Mr. Alaric stood tall before the gathered students, his deep voice cutting through the cool morning air. "Good morning, everyone."
In perfect unison, the group responded: "Good morning, sir." Among them stood Ronan, Orin, Tavin, Elenor, Elias, Oliver, Andera, Amelia, Eldrin, Kellan, and Selyra. Each carried a different weight in their hearts—anticipation, anxiety, pride, or simply a quiet resolve.
Without wasting time, Mr. Alaric led them to a one-floor stone building. It wasn't grand in size, but the moment they approached it, the atmosphere shifted. The entire structure was built from deep-blue magic stone, faintly glowing with intricate runes carved into every surface. The air pulsed with quiet power as if the building itself breathed magic.
Inside, the students found Mr. Arnold, Ms. Rose, and Mr. Bulsa already waiting. "Good morning, sir. Good morning, ma'am," the students greeted respectfully.
"Good morning," the three instructors replied almost in chorus, though each carried their own expression. Mr. Arnold's face was stern as always, Ms. Rose's calm and unreadable, and Mr. Bulsa's held a faint, knowing smile.
Mr. Arnold stepped forward and gestured toward a circular portal at the centre of the room. It shimmered with a strange energy, like moonlight reflecting on rippling water.
"This is the Trial of Fear and Desire," Mr. Arnold began, his voice commanding attention. "When you step through this portal, you will be transported into an illusion—one born from your deepest fear and strongest desire. Your task is simple: overcome it. Whether with strength, courage, or clarity—that is for you to decide."
The air felt heavier as he finished speaking. Eyes flickered among the students, tension settling in. "Let's begin with Elenor." There was a sharp silence, then a subtle intake of breath.
Elenor stepped forward, her expression a mixture of excitement and apprehension. Her hands were clenched slightly, but her posture remained strong. She took one last glance at Ronan and Ms. Rose, nodded to herself, and entered the portal.
The moment she disappeared, a large screen—floating and shaped like a mirror—lit up above the portal. Runes shimmered along its edges as it began to display the illusion Elenor had entered.
As they watched the chaos unfold, Ronan asked, "Is it necessary to show the illusion we're all going to face?" Mr Arnold answers, "There are some cases where students went berserk, so we have no other choice." Ronan let out a soft, "Ooo." His displeasure with the format was clear.
Elenor stood in front of a burning village, the sky choked with black smoke and glowing embers. Cries of terror and agony echoed through the air, and monstrous roars vibrated through the ground. Explosions rang out in the distance. The land trembled.
Before she could even think, Elenor's face twisted with horror and determination. She sprinted into the village, wind and fire stirring around her as she moved. But what greeted her inside shattered her composure. Blood.
So much blood that it flooded the dirt paths. Severed limbs, twisted torsos—she stopped, trembling, barely suppressing the urge to vomit. Her body locked up for a moment, but she forced herself to move forward.
People were still alive—some of them. Villagers fought desperately against grotesque monsters, their movements slow and ragged, eyes filled with despair. Without hesitation, Elenor joined the fray. Wind and Fire coiled around her as she swung her blade, dancing between attackers. She cut down one, then another, her face a mask of fury.
One man turned to her, blood running down his forehead. "With you here, maybe... maybe we can save the village!"
Elenor's eyes flickered toward the carnage. Her hand trembled slightly on the hilt of her sword. But then she nodded, jaw clenched. "Let's go," she said, voice barely above a whisper.
The group moved toward the village centre, where the source of the destruction awaited. There, several towering humanoid monsters loomed—each wielding massive weapons that tore through villagers like paper. Their eyes glowed red, their skin ashen.
Elenor tried to face them. She lunged in, hoping to distract them, to buy the villagers time. But she was no match.
A single punch from one of the monsters sent her flying across the battlefield. She crashed into a pile of corpses with a sickening thud. Dazed and broken, she could barely breathe. The metallic scent of blood consumed her.
A wounded villager limped over, kneeling beside her. His voice was hoarse and weak. "You're not one of us, child. Leave. Save yourself. There's nothing left to save. We can't carry the sin of watching a little girl die with us." Tears welled up in Elenor's eyes.
She turned her head, seeing the slaughter, the hopelessness. She staggered to her feet, her grip tightening on her sword. "I'll try. I have to."
But in the next instant, the man who spoke to her had his head severed clean off by a massive blade. Elenor let out a scream, stumbling backwards. Her sword clattered to the ground.
The monsters closed in, grabbing her by the neck, lifting her effortlessly. Her limbs flailed. Behind her, the last villagers were butchered one by one as she watched, helpless.
"No... No, please... stop!" she cried, struggling desperately. And then, just as the last villager fell, something inside her broke. Her will shattered like glass. The strength in her fingers faded, and her sword slipped from her hand.
The illusion collapsed. Elenor's body was thrown out of the portal, barely conscious. Before she could hit the ground, Ronan appeared out of nowhere, catching her in his arms.
The others gasped. Her sword, almost touching the ground, suddenly halted mid-air and drifted into Ronan's left hand as if drawn to him.
"Elenor," he whispered softly, looking down at her. She clung to him, her body shaking, tears streaming down her face. "I… I couldn't save any of them. I tried. I… I—" Her words broke apart into sobs. Her small hands gripped his shirt tightly.
Ronan didn't say anything right away. He simply held her, shielding her from the weight of her illusion, letting her cry into his chest.
"You're brave, Elenor," he said gently, petting her head. "You didn't run. Even when you knew you couldn't win… You don't turn back. That's courage. That's heart. You did everything you could."
Her sobs softened slightly as she looked up at him, eyes red and puffy. His voice was calm, comforting. A soft smile touched his lips.
"You'll save them next time," he said. "You'll grow stronger… and one day, no one will fall while you're there. But for that, you can't let go of your sword."
He gently placed her weapon back into her hands. "Never let it go. It's not just a weapon—it's your partner. Your promise to keep fighting." Elenor nodded slowly, holding her sword close.
Still in Ronan's arms, they walked toward the instructors. Ms. Rose's expression had softened. She stepped forward, but before she could say anything, Elenor lowered her head.
"I'm sorry, Aunty…" Ms. Rose smiled and ruffled Elenor's hair. "You were strong, Elenor. You made the hardest choice—to fight, even when it seemed pointless. That makes you one of the strongest among us." There was silence in the room. A few of the other students looked at Elenor with new respect.