Day 7
The sun burned without mercy.Not the sun they had known, but something more savage, as though the sky itself had decided they'd walked far enough. Their lips were cracked, their clothes torn to ribbons, and every step left blood in the dust. They no longer spoke. There was no strength left for questions. No curiosity about how far remained.
Hope had narrowed into something smaller than a word. It was just movement now. Forward.
The supplements were gone.Gone yesterday.The forest had never warned them that walking through snow, rain, and fire would demand more from them than any ration could replace. At first, the pills had lasted a day. Then half a day. Now, nothing. Their bodies were collapsing under the weight of the trial.
Terra's legs gave out first.
She dropped to her knees, trembling, skin blistered by the heat. Rachel turned, tried to speak—but her throat was sand, her breath a dry rasp. Still, she reached for Terra and pulled.
"I can't," Terra whispered. "I can't walk into nothingness anymore."
Rachel didn't respond. She only pulled harder.
Naemor didn't hesitate. He knelt, wordless, and offered his back. Terra wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and he rose—slowly. Painfully. They kept going.
The heat pressed on like a vice, like a punishment. Their sweat had long since vanished. Now their skin cracked. Flaked. Bled.
Then Rachel collapsed.
No hesitation. No frustration. Naemor knelt again. He gathered her into his arms, his muscles shrieking, and walked. Both of them now in his arms.
The world began to tilt.
How long had they walked like this?
There was no way to know. Time didn't pass normally here. Light never dimmed. The sun didn't move. He carried them until his knees began to fail. Until his steps left not just blood, but pieces of his skin behind.
A man appeared beside him. Calm. Familiar.
"You really think this is worth it, boy?"
Naemor didn't need to look. "You again."
"I never left," his father said. "You're walking toward another cage. And dragging mortals with you. Drop them. You'd reach the end faster."
Naemor didn't stop.
"Maybe," he said, "but I wouldn't be me if I did. They're the reason I'm still walking. Their stories kept my mind from shattering. Their laughter reminded me of home."
His father studied him quietly, then nodded. "You've always been different from the rest of us. Let's see if that difference leads you to greatness… or ruin."
Then he vanished.
Naemor stumbled. His body quivered. Then failed. He fell.
He landed hard, face in the scorched dust. The bodies of his friends beside him. Breathing, but faintly. Eyes closed.
"Why?" he croaked. "Why am I doing this?"
A voice answered.
His own.
"Good question," said the other Naemor, crouching before him.
He looked the same. Sounded the same. But his smile was too sure. Too calm.
"Let me guess," Naemor grunted. "A mirror-self?"
"Unoriginal, I know," the double said, smiling. "But effective. You talk to yourself differently when you think you're alone."
Naemor rolled onto his back. "So go ahead. Ask it again."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I don't know anymore. Home was a cage. I wanted more. I am more."
"Dramatic. But sure," the clone smirked. "You believe you have a 'grander destiny' than the rest of us. But what if I told you all of this—everything you are—was written before you were born?"
Naemor's eyes narrowed. "Lies."
The mirror-self tilted his head. "There's a place. The Astral Library. Beyond realms, outside time. It holds the story of every life that ever was and ever will be. Including yours."
Naemor's heart pounded. "How do you know about that?"
The clone grinned wider. "I am the forest. I've watched generations pass. I've learned the dreams of kings and the regrets of gods. I know things you aren't ready to."
"Then why test us at all?"
"Because if destiny is written, then choice becomes everything. I wanted to see what yours would be. How far you'll carry mortals who may never thank you. Whether you'll stop… or continue."
Rain began to fall. A gentle, warm spring rain.
Each drop soaked into his scorched skin, cooling the burns, quenching the cracks. Life returned—slow, aching life.
Naemor pushed himself up.
He looked back at the clone. The smile was gone now. In its place stood a tall, thin man, skin pale as moonlight, hair jet black, and eyes glowing with pure white. From the forest, a murder of crows surged, folding into one another, forming a cloak that wrapped around him.
The man said nothing.
And vanished.
Naemor looked down at Rachel and Terra, lifted them again—one on each shoulder—and kept walking.
The mountain's peak now moved. Each step pulled it closer. The forest itself was ending.
And there it was: a single silver flag planted in the earth.
He reached out.
Touched it.
A New Room
Light blinded him. A hum filled the air.
Then he was somewhere else. A chamber. A new floor. Other contestants stood around him, many shocked, many broken in their own ways. Above them, wide crystal panels displayed others still trapped in the forest. Still walking. Still breaking.
As soon as Naemor let the girls down, mana returned to him—and it flooded his body. He could feel the difference. His limit… was gone. A breakthrough, earned not by power, but endurance.
He laid Terra and Rachel down gently, watching their chests rise and fall. They were breathing. Healing. They'd made it.
He didn't need thanks.
He sat cross-legged beside them, eyes closing.
This trial taught him the truth: his strength wasn't enough. Not yet.But soon.
He would never fall behind again.