Chapter 32
Rubal's abrupt departure left a vacuum in the small hut, the weight of his unspoken apology hanging heavy in the air. Brooke watched him go, a knot of unease tightening in her stomach.
The fleeting resemblance she'd glimpsed earlier, the concern in his eyes, the hesitation before he spoke, all hinted at something she could not yet grasp, a missing piece of a puzzle she did not even know she was trying to solve.
"Trial?" Bob asked, breaking the silence. "What is that about?"
Azre's gaze followed Rubal's retreating figure. "The tribe has its own laws. He must have broken one."
"What could he have done?" Bruce asked, brow furrowed. "He seems like a good kid."
Brooke turned back to Astares, who remained crouched near Enix, her golden eyes fixed on his shadow. The silence stretched, broken only by the distant crash of waves and the rustling of reeds.
"Astares," Brooke said, her voice careful, neutral. "What do you see in his shadow?"
Astares tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "It is… hungry," she whispered.
"Hey, Mister! Can I play with him?" Astares suddenly exclaimed, her voice full of childlike excitement.
Azre raised an eyebrow. "Astares, what do you mean by 'play with him'?"
Astares giggled, pointing at Enix's shadow. "You mean this puppy inside Mister's shadow?"
A collective gasp filled the hut. Everyone stared at Enix's shadow, shock etched on their faces.
Enix remained impassive for a moment, then let out a low sigh. "Alright," he said quietly. "You win. Roc, come out."
As the words left his lips, Enix's shadow writhed and expanded. A monstrous form took shape, filling the hut with its oppressive presence. It was Dreadfang, a creature ripped from a nightmare.
Its body was covered in massive black fur, its tail burning with black and red flame. A similar flame burned on his forehead, and veins of dark energy glowed beneath his skin. Its red eyes and silent scream sent chills through the room.
The creature seemed capable of melting into shadows, striking without warning.
Astares clapped her hands and rushed forward, wrapping her arms around Dreadfang's massive form in a tight hug. "Yey!" she shouted, joy spilling from her voice.
Brooke, Bob, Bruce, and Azre stared, struggling to comprehend the scene.
Meanwhile, deep in the jungle, Rubal was led to the mouth of a dark cave. Chief Olka stood before him, his face grim.
"Are you sure about this?" the chief asked in the tribe's ancient tongue.
Rubal met his gaze. "Yes, Chief. I am ready."
"You are about to undertake the Trial of Iblis," the chief said. "This is a test of worthiness, a journey into the heart of the void. Those who enter seek the blessing of Iblis, the God of the Void.
You will have one day. If you do not emerge by sunset, it means you have failed. Failure in the face of Iblis means death, lost forever within the endless cave."
Rubal nodded, pale but resolute. As someone not of true Incan blood, his chances of survival were slim. He had no choice. He had to face the trial and seek the blessing of Iblis.
Stepping into darkness, an all-encompassing black swallowed him. He opened his eyes but saw nothing. No light, no form, just an endless void. The ground beneath his feet felt solid and unyielding, but he could perceive nothing.
A chill settled over him. He thought back to Chief Olka's words, searching for a clue. "...You will have one day." The chief had also said that time inside the cave moved faster than the outside world.
It must be five times faster, Rubal realized.
He decided to stay put, to focus. If time flowed differently within the cave, perhaps that was the key.
Perhaps that was why no one had ever returned. They aged too quickly, their bodies failing before they could find their way out.
Back in the hut, Brooke's unease intensified. Something was terribly wrong. Her heart felt shattered, a sudden, inexplicable ache.
Suddenly, Astares, riding on Dreadfang's back, tilted her head. "Hey, big sis! Why are you crying? Ah! Is it because of your brother entering the cave of trials?"
Brooke froze. "What did you just say?" she whispered. She approached Astares, eyes wide. "My brother? What are you talking about?"
Astares looked confused. "Yes," she said simply. "He is your long-lost brother. I saved him and brought him here when your ship sank."
The words hit Brooke like a physical blow. Her world spun. The fleeting resemblances, the familiar feeling, the nagging unease, it all clicked into place.
The truth was too overwhelming. Her legs gave out, and she fell, tears streaming, realizing her brother's survival and his perilous situation.
Bob and Bruce rushed to her side, their concern obvious. "Captain, let's go!" Bob urged. "Maybe it is not too late! Maybe your brother has not entered the cave yet!"
A flicker of hope ignited in Brooke's eyes. But Mera, despite the gravity of the situation, could not lie. "Actually," she said softly, filled with sorrow, "Rubal entered the cave not long ago. I am sorry."
Hope shattered. He was already inside. Her brother. Facing the Trial of Iblis.
"Rubal!" Brooke screamed, voice raw with grief and desperation. She stumbled toward the cave. "Rubal, come back! Please, come back!"
As they ran towards the cave, they spotted a familiar figure in the distance. "Mera!" Brooke called out, her voice hoarse. They rushed towards her. "Mera, where is Rubal? Where did he go?"
Mera's eyes seemed distant, unfocused. A faint, almost unsettling smile played on her lips. "He has fulfilled his purpose," she said, her voice strangely detached. "He walks the path he was always meant to walk."
Azre and Enix exchanged uneasy glances. There was something deeply unsettling about Mera's words and demeanor.
Astares, accompanied by Dolan, landed Roc near the cave entrance.
"What happened?" Azre asked sharply.
"The big missy and the other Incans are running toward the central village!" Astares exclaimed.
"Why?" Azre pressed.
"Hooded figures fell from the sky, along with a wyvern!" Dolan exclaimed. "They are searching for the cave of trials!"
"Let's go!" Azre said urgently. She and Enix sprinted toward the village.
On the outskirts of the village, chaos reigned. Tharen, Anon, and Gorak, a figure whose movements held an unsettling, almost insect-like precision, stood amidst carnage, tribal guards falling like wheat before a scythe. The muscular hooded figure wielded two swords with deadly precision, cutting down Incan warriors with ease.
"Whooah!" Gorak exclaimed. "I like that guy."
The muscular hooded figure turned toward the jungle, purpose burning in his eyes. "Enix," he murmured. "I am coming for you."
The wyvern, a grotesque beast of leathery wings and sharp claws, stood poised on the ground, its head lifted as if preparing for takeoff. Suddenly, a massive strike cleaved through the air. The wyvern's head, severed clean from its body, plummeted to the ground.
"What!" the hooded figure shrieked, disbelief and rage in his voice.
Standing amidst the chaos, her ancient battleaxe dripping with wyvern blood, was Faetalis.