11
Wind Trial
The arena was alive with energy as the crowd leaned forward in their seats, eyes fixed on the six remaining competitors standing on a floating platform at the southern end of the coliseum. Suspended fifty feet above the arena floor, the platform swayed slightly, just enough to remind everyone of the danger awaiting below. The air crackled with excitement, the anticipation tangible as the Divine Council prepared the arena for the second trial.
From the stands, Alyc sat beside Durk, her eyes darting between the competitors and the Divine Council. She could feel her pulse quicken as Tideweaver, Varuna, stepped forward, her flowing azure robes glinting like liquid under the sunlight. With a graceful sweep of her arms, she summoned a surge of water. The crowd gasped as cold, clear water burst forth, flooding the arena floor. The water rose steadily, shimmering in the sunlight as it crept higher, reaching the base of the coliseum walls. When it stilled, the surface reflected the sky, a dazzling illusion of calm. Alyc leaned forward, dipping her fingers into the water and shivering at its icy touch. “It’s freezing,” she muttered, wiping her hand on her cloak. Tideweaver stepped back as Stoneheart, Felrum, took center stage. The towering figure, clad in heavy stone armor, raised his arms high. The ground trembled, and moments later, hundreds of stone platforms erupted from the water’s surface. Smooth and varying in size and shape, the platforms arranged themselves in a jagged path across the arena.
The transformation wasn’t done. Skywatcher, Venta, floated forward, her robes swirling like mist around her. With a commanding wave of her hands, the platforms rose, suspended mid-air. The jagged path now floated above the watery expanse, zigzagging from the south to the north end of the coliseum, a daunting challenge that spanned over one hundred yards.
Alyc couldn’t help but gasp. The water below shimmered dangerously, its reflective surface almost hypnotic. “Beautiful,” she murmured, though the treacherous path above made her palms sweat.
The Seer stepped forward, her silver eyes gleaming with authority. The crowd immediately fell silent. Alyc leaned closer, her breath caught in anticipation.
“Champions,” the Seer began, her voice carrying effortlessly across the coliseum. “The second trial awaits. This is a test of agility, balance, and resilience a battle against the elements themselves. You must traverse the suspended platforms from this southern platform to the northern finish.”
The crowd murmured as she continued. “If you fall into the water, you must return to the starting platform and begin again. This is a trial of endurance and timing. But beware the elements will not favor you. Skywatcher and Tideweaver will work together to challenge your path. Gusts of wind will test your balance, and waves will seek to unsteady your footing. Use your cunning, agility, and quick reflexes to prevail.”
A ripple of excitement spread through the crowd, the stakes sinking in. Alyc glanced at Durk, who was watching the competitors intently.
“Each of you will face this trial alone,” the Seer added. “Your times will determine your fate. The two competitors with the slowest times will be eliminated.”
The words hung heavy in the air. The crowd roared in approval, their cheers echoing off the coliseum walls. Alyc felt her heart pound in her chest. This was it the second trial. The competitors adjusted their stances, preparing themselves for the grueling challenge ahead.
Durk leaned toward her, his tone measured but firm. “Keep your eyes on them, Alyc. This isn’t just about speed. It’s about strategy and heart.”
She nodded, her focus shifting back to the arena. The Seer raised her hand, silencing the crowd once more. “Champions, prepare yourselves. The Wind Trials begin now.”
The arena fell into a hushed stillness, the tension so thick it was almost suffocating. The competitors stood poised, their determination visible even from the stands. Alyc gripped the edge of her seat, her knuckles white. This wasn’t just a test of skill; it was a fight to survive another day in the Trials.
The coliseum fell into silence as the Seer raised her hand, her silver gaze sweeping over the crowd before settling on the competitors. “Jesta Valance of Selenia,” she announced, her voice resonating across the arena, “you will be the first to face the Wind Trials.”
Alyc’s eyes locked on Jesta, the assassin stepping forward with a confidence that seemed almost unnatural. Clad in form-fitting grey and blue armor, Jesta moved with the precision of a blade. Her every step was calculated, her expression unreadable. The sun caught the edges of her armor as she adjusted the gloves on her hands, her movements calm and deliberate.
“She’s quick,” Durk murmured beside Alyc, his voice low but approving.
Jesta stopped at the edge of the floating platform, her sharp gaze scanning the suspended path ahead. Hundreds of stone platforms stretched across the shimmering water, some barely large enough to stand on, others offering more stable footing. The northern platform, her destination, loomed far in the distance.
With a nod from the Seer, Skywatcher (Venta) raised her arms, her robes billowing as if caught in a phantom wind. A sudden gust surged through the arena, sending a ripple across the water and bending the flames of the torches lining the walls.
“Begin,” the Seer commanded.
Jesta sprang into motion, her body a blur as she leapt onto the first platform. The crowd erupted into cheers as her boots landed with a soft thud. She didn’t pause; her momentum carried her to the next platform, her movements so fluid they seemed rehearsed.
Alyc watched in awe as Skywatcher flicked her wrist, sending a sharp gust of wind barreling toward Jesta. The assassin twisted mid-air, her body arching gracefully as she adjusted her trajectory. Her feet touched down on the next platform with precision, her balance unshaken.
“She’s like a shadow,” Alyc said, her voice tinged with amazement.
Durk nodded, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. “She’s trained for this her entire life.”
As Jesta continued, Tideweaver (Varuna) raised her hands, and a sudden wave surged across the water, climbing higher as it rushed toward her. The crowd gasped as the wave crested, threatening to knock her from the narrow platform.
Jesta crouched low, her arms outstretched to steady herself. The force of the wave slammed into her, but she held firm, her body moving with the water’s rhythm rather than resisting it. With a powerful leap, she launched herself to the next platform, the wave breaking harmlessly behind her.
“She makes it look easy,” Alyc whispered, leaning forward in her seat.
The platforms grew narrower as Jesta approached the halfway point. Venta, her expression serene, conjured another gust of wind. This one was stronger, more chaotic, swirling unpredictably around Jesta. She hesitated for the first time, her eyes narrowing as she assessed her options. Then, with a burst of speed, she darted forward, weaving through the gusts like a ribbon caught in a breeze.
Her foot slipped slightly on one platform, the first hint of a misstep, but she recovered instantly, her hand brushing the surface for balance before she pushed off again. The northern platform drew closer, and the crowd’s cheers grew louder.
Tideweaver raised her arms again, her movements deliberate as another wave surged forward. This one was larger, angrier, curling as if it had a will of its own. Jesta’s focus never wavered. She crouched low as the wave approached, waiting until the last possible moment before launching herself upward.
The wave crashed below her as she flipped through the air, landing with a triumphant flourish on the northern platform. The crowd erupted, their cheers echoing through the coliseum as Jesta straightened, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
Alyc’s heart raced, her admiration for the Selenian competitor undeniable. “She’s incredible,” she said, glancing at Durk, who gave a small nod of agreement.
The Seer stepped forward, her voice cutting through the noise. “Jesta Valance of Selenia, you have completed the Wind Trials in two minutes and fifteen seconds.”
The crowd’s cheers swelled again, and Jesta gave a slight bow before stepping to the side, her demeanor calm but her eyes gleaming with satisfaction. Alyc couldn’t take her eyes off her. The way Jesta had moved, almost like she was dancing, had left an indelible impression.
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“She’s set the bar high,” Durk said, his tone thoughtful. “Let’s see how the others handle it.”
Alyc nodded, her gaze shifting back to the southern platform where the next competitor prepared to step forward. The trial was far from over, and the tension in the coliseum was only growing.
The coliseum fell into a brief hush as the Seer raised her hand, her silver eyes gleaming. “Prigo Crest of Emberfall,” she announced. The name echoed through the arena, drawing cheers from the Emberfall supporters.
Prigo stepped forward with his signature swagger, his armor catching the sunlight as he strode confidently to the edge of the southern platform. His smirk lingered as he turned his head toward Jesta, who stood calmly to the side. “Try not to get used to being first,” he quipped, his tone dripping with arrogance.
Jesta raised an eyebrow, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at her lips. “We’ll see,” she replied, her voice calm but laced with amusement.
The crowd’s anticipation grew as Prigo stretched his arms and shook out his legs. With a nod from the Seer, Venta and Varuna prepared the course. A gust of wind swirled around the platforms, while the water below rippled with subtle waves, their movements ominous and deliberate.
“The trial begins,” the Seer declared.
Prigo launched himself onto the first platform with practiced ease, his confidence evident in every motion. The crowd roared as he leapt to the next, his sharp movements cutting through the tension in the air. Alyc leaned forward, her eyes narrowing. “He’s fast,” she admitted grudgingly.
Durk snorted. “Fast doesn’t mean flawless.”
Prigo continued his swift progress, each leap measured and precise. His sharp memory and calculated focus allowed him to map the platforms ahead, avoiding unnecessary risks. The crowd cheered as he moved, his momentum unbroken.
Midway through the course, Venta raised her arms, her expression serene as she conjured a sudden gust of wind. The force barreled toward Prigo, bending the flames of the torches lining the arena walls.
The gust hit Prigo head-on, his confident smirk slipping as he stumbled mid-air. The crowd gasped collectively as his arms flailed, barely catching the edge of the platform ahead. His boots slipped on the smooth stone, and for a heart-stopping moment, it seemed he would fall.
“Come on!” Alyc whispered, gripping the edge of her seat.
Prigo’s fingers tightened against the edge, his knuckles white. With a grunt, he hauled himself up, his face red with exertion and irritation. His composure momentarily shaken, he glanced back at the path he had nearly fallen from, his jaw clenched.
From the stands, Jesta’s soft chuckle carried across the arena, barely audible but sharp enough to reach Prigo’s ears. He scowled and forced himself forward, his movements quicker now, though lacking the smooth precision from before.
As he neared the final stretch, Varuna raised her hands, summoning a massive wave that surged across the water’s surface. The wave climbed higher, its crest glinting menacingly as it barreled toward Prigo.
The force hit him hard, slamming against his side and sending him skidding across a platform. He wobbled precariously, his arms flailing to maintain his balance. For a moment, it seemed inevitable that he would fall into the water below, but he steadied himself at the last second, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“He’s lucky,” Durk muttered, his arms crossed tightly. “Or stubborn,” Alyc added, her tone tinged with annoyance. With one final leap, Prigo landed on the northern platform, his boots slamming against the stone with a resounding thud. He straightened quickly, attempting to mask the frustration that burned in his expression. The Seer stepped forward, her voice clear and steady. “Prigo Crest of Emberfall, you have completed the Wind Trials in two minutes and twenty-two seconds.”
The crowd erupted into cheers, though the reaction was noticeably mixed, with some murmurs of discontent at his near-misses.
Prigo turned toward Jesta, who stood with her arms crossed, an amused glint in her eye. She extended a hand toward him, a gesture of sportsmanship that immediately set his teeth on edge.
“Not bad,” Jesta said, her voice light and teasing.
Prigo slapped her hand away, his sneer deepening as he stormed past her. “Keep laughing,” he growled under his breath, his tone venomous.
Jesta let out a soft laugh, her shoulders shaking with amusement. “Oh, I will,” she replied, earning more than a few chuckles from the crowd.
“Cut it out!” Durk’s voice rang out from the stands, firm and commanding. “Both of you, focus on the Trials.”
Prigo shot a glare toward the Emberfall section of the coliseum before turning his back to Jesta, his posture rigid as he stepped away to join the other competitors. Alyc’s gaze lingered on Prigo as he moved, a sour taste rising in her mouth. “He’s insufferable,” she muttered.
Durk nodded, his expression grim. “Arrogance will only get you so far. Let’s see if the next competitor handles it better.”
The crowd settled as the Seer raised her hand again, calling for the next challenger to step forward. The tension in the arena thickened, the excitement for what was to come palpable. The Wind Trials were far from over.
The coliseum buzzed with renewed energy as the Seer raised her hand, signaling the next competitor. The remaining challengers stood on the southern platform, their expressions ranging from stoic determination to quiet anxiety. Brook Browner was the next to step forward.
Brook’s broad shoulders and heavy frame were an asset in many challenges, but here, on the delicate platforms suspended over the water, they were a hindrance. The Emberfall warrior rolled his shoulders, cracked his knuckles, and stepped onto the first platform with a determined scowl.
The crowd cheered him on as he launched himself forward, landing heavily on the next platform. Each jump was accompanied by a precarious wobble as he struggled to steady his balance against the swaying of the platform.
Skywatcher raised her hands, her serene face showing no malice as she conjured a powerful gust of wind. The force of it hit Brook mid-leap, sending him teetering dangerously. He flailed his arms, trying to regain control, but the gust was relentless. With a loud splash, Brook crashed into the water below.
The crowd gasped collectively, and a few Emberfall supporters shouted encouragement as Brook surfaced, his face a mix of frustration and determination. Without a word, he swam back to the starting platform, shaking the water from his hair as he prepared to try again.
“He’s got heart,” Alyc murmured, her grip on the edge of her seat tightening.
“He’ll need more than heart to make it through this,” Durk replied, his tone grave but not unkind.
Brook launched himself again, this time making it halfway across before Tideweaver unleashed a sudden wave. The water surged forward, crashing into him just as he prepared to leap. The impact sent him sprawling into the water a second time.
The crowd groaned, and Brook let out a roar of frustration as he swam back to the starting point once more.
It was only on his third attempt that he managed to reach the northern platform. His final leap landed with a heavy thud, and he raised his arms in triumph despite the audible huff of exhaustion.
The Seer’s voice cut through the noise. “Brook Browner of Emberfall completes the trial with a time of five minutes and thirty-four seconds.”
Brook accepted a helping hand from one of the attendants, his frustration melting into a sheepish grin as the crowd cheered for his persistence.
The next name called was Vienna Hast.
Alyc leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in anticipation. The Emberfall competitor was known for her speed and strategy, and it showed from the moment she set foot on the first platform.
Vienna moved like a blur, her feet barely seeming to touch the stone as she darted across the platforms. Where others faltered, she displayed an uncanny ability to read the patterns of wind and waves, adjusting her movements to stay ahead of the obstacles.
“She’s dancing,” Alyc said, her voice tinged with awe.
Durk nodded, a faint smile breaking through his usually stern demeanor. “She’s calculated. Knows exactly where to step.”
Vienna’s run was nearly flawless until she reached the final stretch. A sudden wave crashed into her, knocking her backward with startling force. The crowd gasped as her body twisted mid-air, her hands scrabbling for the edge of the nearest platform.
With incredible agility, Vienna managed to grab hold and flip herself back up, her body moving with a grace that defied the chaos around her. The crowd erupted into applause as she finished her run, landing lightly on the northern platform.
“Vienna Hast of Emberfall completes the trial with a time of three minutes and two seconds,” the Seer announced.
Vienna gave a brief nod of acknowledgment before stepping aside, her breathing steady despite the evident effort.
Next up was Brail Wistare, the towering Selenian warrior. His hulking frame drew gasps of admiration as he stepped forward, his shadow casting an imposing figure across the water.
Brail wasted no time, his powerful legs propelling him across the platforms with long, deliberate leaps. His strength allowed him to cover more distance with each jump, but his lack of agility was apparent.
Skywatcher sent a swirling gust of wind toward him, and though Brail managed to stay upright, his movements grew more labored as he fought against the relentless force. When a wave surged toward him, he misjudged his leap and plunged into the water with a mighty splash.
“Come on, Brail!” someone in the Selenian section shouted, their voice rising above the din.
Undeterred, Brail swam back to the starting platform and began again, his jaw set in grim determination. His second attempt was less smooth but ultimately successful. He reached the northern platform, his chest heaving as he raised a fist in triumph.
The Seer’s voice carried his time across the coliseum. “Brail Wistare of Selenia completes the trial with a time of four minutes and twenty-five seconds.”
The final competitor to step forward was Morrow Coswo, the master archer of Selenia.
Alyc tilted her head, watching closely. “Precision,” she murmured. “He’s got precision.”
Morrow’s movements were deliberate but efficient. He paused briefly before each jump, assessing the distance and timing his leaps with the precision of an arrow finding its mark.
Though Skywatcher and Tideweaver threw everything at him gusts of wind, unexpected waves, and shifting platforms Morrow adjusted with quiet focus. He stumbled once, his foot slipping dangerously close to the edge of a platform, but he quickly regained his footing.
When he finally landed on the northern platform, the crowd erupted into cheers.
“Morrow Coswo of Selenia completes the trial with a time of three minutes and fifteen seconds,” the Seer announced.
As Morrow joined the others on the sidelines, the tension in the coliseum reached its peak. Only the eliminations remained, and Alyc’s heart pounded as the Seer raised her hand once more. The Wind Trials were drawing to their climactic conclusion.
The coliseum fell silent as the Seer stepped forward, her silver eyes catching the sunlight as she surveyed the competitors. The tension was palpable, the anticipation hanging heavy in the air as the cr
