Yet he kept himself busy, forcing his mind into motion. I’ve learned too much—too fast. No time to sort it. And I can’t start thinking about... that.
Ahead, the canyon merged into a broader river. For the first time since waking up, something like peace settled in his chest. Something almost like safety. Eldritch gods exist in this world. I’m part of a trial for a wizard school. Rediculous.
They walked on until they reached a stony beach where thorny brush choked the edge of the forest. I’m a chosen one. Not by prophecy—by a god with Lovecraftian message delivery.
I have k—nope. Aaron’s grip tightened around his spear. His knuckles turned white. Trials. Focus on the trials.
Theon and Rhea turned toward the forest, following the river upstream. “Are these forests normal around here?” Aaron asked, seizing the chance for a distraction. Theon gave a terse nod. They’re as nervous about hunters as I am.
The scent of blooming acacias drifted through the air—pleasant, clean, a sharp contrast to the lingering stench of blood and bile still clinging to his skin. Aaron glanced at his companions.
I still don’t know what to make of them. They seem genuine... but Rhea executed two men without hesitation when we met.
They’re dangerous. Cold, when they need to be. Even Theon has killed—and he seems more excited about me than disturbed by it. Maybe that’s just the local culture.
The criminals hunting them had drained any enthusiasm for conversation. A quiet wariness had taken its place—an edge the others seemed to share without needing to name. Right. Someone released a bunch of criminals to hunt teenagers, and that’s just the opening act.
Then there are the trials—Will, Ability, and Wits. Doesn’t sound too bad, right?
Aaron shook his head in exasperation. Yeah, sounds fine—until you remember that armed psychopaths were the welcome party. Prior knowledge is a curse. Just enough to terrify me, not enough to help.
They had barely left the river’s sound behind when Rhea froze and tilted her head. “Screaming... and stone striking stone,” she murmured. She turned slowly, gesturing off their current path.
Theon nodded. “That fits. The Trial of Will should be in that direction.” He looked at Aaron, hesitated. “What say you, Xandros... Aaron Blackwell?”
Aaron frowned slightly. What should I call myself? Taking over this body’s life comes with perks—looks like I’m some kind of noble. But that probably comes with complications too. Better not to stir the pot.
“Call me Xandros,” he said after a breath. “Let’s not make this harder than it already is.” Rhea smirked. Fine. Names are the least of my problems.
Aaron gave a small nod. “I’ll follow your lead.” The forest rose gradually into the foothills. The trees thinned, revealing a wide, two-hundred-step clearing in the slope. Several robed figures stood in the center, waiting.
“We greet the Touched,” they intoned, bowing low. They stepped forward and took their weapons. Aaron hesitated only a moment before copying the others and handing his over.
From a gazebo at the back of the clearing, an old woman stepped out. Her robe shimmered with sapphires, a diadem rested on her brow, and a staff of inlaid jewels caught the sunlight. The entire ensemble radiated status, power—and money.
She’s wearing enough treasure to bankrupt a small empire, and she’s just wandering around in the wilderness? Either she’s bait, or this is a stage and I just walked into someone’s theater.
That makes no sense. Magic? Illusion? Or maybe gems are as common as dirt in this world. There are planets with mountains made of diamond. Could be something like that.
The others dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. Aaron hesitated, then followed. Let’s not piss off the powerful just yet. I can do that later.
He tried to see past the hill, but the noises were coming from somewhere on the other side of the slope. “Greetings, Magus Helea!” Rhea and Theon chorused.
Silence followed. Everyone turned to Aaron. Stop ruminating, idiot. “Greetings, Magus Helea,” he mumbled.
She sneered slightly, then waited. Aaron cleared his throat. “Greetings, Magus Helea!” he repeated, louder and clearer.
The old woman’s expression shifted. A warm smile bloomed as she turned back to Rhea, radiating delight. She nodded politely to Theon, then turned to Aaron again.
Her smile faded into a subtle frown. Then confusion. What? Did she expect something from me?
I really should’ve asked about my past self’s relationships. Was I a snob? A sexist? Or just really, really rude? A few servants emerged from the gazebo—brutalist in style, built from slabs of natural stone but tastefully decorated with green gems—and poured water from a carafe into plain stone cups.
Aaron stared at the stone cup in his hands. Like everything else here—plain stone laced with gems. Bare and decadent. A contradiction carved into every cup. A trap? A test?
He sipped. The water was cold. Too cold. His throat tightened.
Once everyone had refreshed themselves, Magus Helea finally spoke. “Your group seems to have been cut down. The ranks of the Thelmatai fill as ever.”
She sighed, long-suffering. “Let us proceed before an Edict strikes us.” Theon and Rhea flinched slightly. The Magus nodded in sympathy, then turned a piercing gaze on Aaron.
Edict again. That came up with the Weaver. A divine rule? A magical punishment decree? Whatever it is, they treat it like divine lightning. Everyone seems scared of it. And they really don’t like the gods here.
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Aaron supressed a smirk. I wonder how she’d react if I told her about the Champion thing. Could be hilarious.
“The Trial of Will awaits. Rhea Neonis, step forth.” Rhea stepped forward. The Magus took her hand. Blood welled up where her fingers touched.
Rhea didn’t flinch. Is that it? That’s magic? No lights, no glow, no sparkles? Just... bleeding on people?
But something did happen. The Magus slammed her staff into the ground. The hard-packed soil cracked—and from beneath, a dome of liquid-black crystal rose. It shimmered like obsidian dipped in oil.
It rose higher, reshaping from a dome to a full sphere. The surface rippled like water, then began to fade—not vanish, exactly, but retreat. The liquid crystal slithered back into the ground, as if withdrawing.
A smooth stone sphere remained, the same gray as the nearby mountain. It reached up to Rhea’s knees. So the blood triggered some kind of earth magic. Crystal magic? Maybe liquid-based spells?
Theon stepped forward and endured the same bloodletting with a bored, practiced look. Aaron stepped forward. The Magus didn’t smile. Didn’t blink. Her fingers clamped around his wrist like shackles.
Pain flared—sharp, invasive, crawling under his skin. He bit back a gasp. Every instinct screamed: pull away, run.
He didn’t move. Warm blood trickled down his hand. A tingling heat spread from his forearm to his core. Another stone rose, carried by the same black liquid. Almost as big as Rhea’s.
He stepped back, rubbing his wrist. The Magus met their eyes—Rhea’s gaze returned the look with calm confidence. Theon looked respectful, sympathetic. Aaron just stared back, uncertain.
The Magus held his gaze longer than the others. Then she sighed and shook her head. “Take the stone around the mountain. Then up the slope where the others toil. Rest it on the summit. A sage’s blessing on you. Take your burden and ascend.”
She turned without further ceremony and vanished back into the gazebo. Aaron looked at the stone. Then at the others.
Rhea smirked. Theon mouthed something—later. Good. So it wasn’t just me. She saw something—more than the others. And it rattled her. What?
Rhea gave her stone a shove. It rolled several steps forward without complaint. Theon eyed his own warily—it was half the size of hers.
Aaron braced himself and shoved. The boulder groaned, shifted—then stopped. His shoulders strained. The weight barely budged.
Of course. Of course she made mine heavier.
—
By the time the clearing vanished behind the curtain of trees, sweat soaked Aaron’s shirt and his arms ached with every step. The laughter of his companions broke the silence like a dropped stone.
Aaron frowned, but his voice came out sharper than he meant. “What was that? What’s her problem with me?”
His fingers twitched on the edge of the stone. He couldn’t shake the weight of her gaze, or the blood still drying on his wrist.
Rhea looked unsure. Theon sighed and sat on his boulder, brushing sweat from his brow. “She and your father were the same age. They never got along. And Xandros... I mean, the old one...”
A pause. Silence hung between them like humidity. “Call him Old Xandros,” Aaron offered. “This is confusing.” The tension broke. They laughed again.
“She’s common-born,” Theon explained, “but she made it. She’s a mentor now. Old Xandros treated her with... say, minimal respect. Just enough to avoid trouble.”
He looked away, jaw tightening. “He was always good at finding exactly where to hurt people without consequence,” he added quietly. So Old Xandros was a noble prick.
Of course he was. He burned the bridge, and now I’m the one walking through the fire. Thanks, Watcher. I always wanted trauma with a pedigree.
Guess she expected me to slight her—and I didn’t. Which made her look foolish in front of everyone. Great start. Rhea grinned suddenly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
“I just remembered a rumor. She has insane perception. If she overheard us talking about your name—” She snorted. “She’s probably completely confused right now. Poor Magus Helea.”
They chuckled again. Yeah, poor her. Stuck trying to figure out if I’m possessed or just had a sudden personality transplant.
Aaron kicked the boulder. It groaned forward an inch, stone scraping stone. He didn’t care. His jaw ached from clenching. Her face kept flashing back—pity, disgust, recognition. All wrapped into one, and aimed at him.
“So,” he said, “how many important people can one guy piss off by age nineteen?”
“I suspect we’ll find out,” Theon muttered, then grunted as his stone jammed against a root. “At this rate, probably before sunset.”
“Let’s keep moving while we talk,” Aaron said, throwing an apologetic glance back at Theon, who was sweating heavily. “Would you tell me about her magic? If you can catch your breath.”
As their stones rolled onward along the winding mountain trail, Aaron found the rhythm almost meditative—until Theon perked up with the gleam of someone about to explain things in agonizing detail.
Theon perked up instantly. Yup. This kid lives for explaining things. Aaron understood. He’d done the same thing with random topics—when the hyperfixation hit, there was no stopping it.
“She’s a life mage,” Theon said. “A powerful sarkomancer with a high aptitude in geomancy.”
“That’s blood-magic and crystal-stone magic,” Rhea clarified with a roll of her eyes. “In the common tongue.” Figures. Blood and stone.
“I’m learning about magic,” Aaron murmured, still not quite believing it. “What kind will we be learning?”
“Depends on your aptitude tests—at least for you two,” Theon said. “I’ve already been tested. I’m an abstract mage. Artifactor, rune, and relic track.” Theon grinned with something close to pride.
“Sounds impressive,” Aaron said. So magic’s divided into categories. And those come with specializations. Makes sense. But asking Theon for every branch would probably take us until the next trial.
He glanced at his stone. “What was that?” Aaron asked, still rubbing his wrist. “The blood. The black stuff. Is that... normal?” His voice dropped. “Because that didn’t feel normal.”
The trail grew rougher, broken by roots and loose stones. Theon grunted but didn’t answer. Rhea picked up the slack.
“Common mechanism for flesh and bone spells. The blood is a side effect of a mana injection. The black fluid’s part of the earth-magic structure—it lifts, carves, compacts. I’ve seen it turn stone into fire.”
“Lava!” Theon wheezed out, still shoving his boulder. So the touch was diagnostic. Blood magic to assess us. The obsidian stuff is geomancy that built the stone.
Aaron wedged his boulder into a flatter patch and turned back toward Theon, who was struggling with a chunk twice his size. He reached out to help.
Both Rhea and Theon froze. Not again. Aaron froze, hands half-outstretched. Heat crawled up his neck. The forest felt too quiet—too watchful. What now?
Aaron exhaled. “Alright. What did I do wrong this time?” Theon’s voice was tired but amused. “You just challenged my honor—man, noble, and warrior. Technically, I could drag you to the arena for that. I’d even get to pick the weapon.”
Rhea rolled her eyes but said nothing. “But,” Theon added, “you have my thanks. I hate this stone already.”
Aaron blinked. So... dueling is a thing. With rules. Social rules. How does that work with revival magic? Do you get a reset button after being impaled?
Probably more about status than death. I should keep a mental counter for time since my last deadly social misstep.
“How far do duels go?” he asked. Best to know before someone actually calls me out.
“Depends,” Rhea said. “Blood. Submission. Or death. The last one requires a censor’s permission.” Aaron dropped onto a rock, chest tight. Dueling. Arena rules. Weapons of their choice. Every move here feels like a trap with polite edges.
“Isn’t helping others prohibited?” Rhea asked, glancing at Theon. Theon shook his head. “Not explicitly.”
“So... are there any rules beyond taking the path and placing the boulder on the summit?” Aaron asked. They both stopped and thought. “I don’t think so,” Theon said cautiously. “There might be conventions, though.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What are you planning?”
Elemental Magic
Radiomancy (Particles)
Fluidomancy (Fluids)
Crystallomancy (Solids)
Thermomancy (Energy)
Infernomancy (Chemical Reaction)
Half of all mages are elementalists. Thermomancy and Fluidomancy are the most popular disciplines, being used by nearly a third of the Psy-Touched.
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