The wound on my side was still scorched, the skin blackened around the edges, but the gash had torn wide enough that it needed stitching. Each pull of the needle sent a sharp burn through me, the heat lingering even though the fire that caused it had long gone out.
Stark worked in silence, threading the wound shut with steady, practiced hands. Stella knelt beside him, pressing fresh bandages into place as he finished each line. Her touch was gentle, but her eyes refused to meet mine. They were locked on the wound, as if avoiding the truth of what she'd nearly done to me.
I clenched my teeth against the pain, tasting iron in the back of my throat. The room smelled faintly of charred flesh, mixed with the rich, earthy aroma of stew bubbling quietly on the fire. For a moment, with the warmth of the fire and the closeness of the two beside me, it almost felt like the chaos of earlier hadn't happened.
But Stark's expression told a different story. His gaze was measured, heavy, as if he had been waiting for the right moment. He set his cup down.
"Enough rest. It's time you both know what comes next."
Stella and I exchanged a glance, her bandages pausing mid-wrap.
"You're leaving for an island," Stark continued. "Not just any island, but the one where every true Ki user must face their first trial."
"Trial?" I asked, shifting in my seat, the stitches pulling against my skin.
Stark's gaze narrowed. "Yes. A path only for those who wield Ki. Think of it as a ceiling—when you hit it, you can't advance until you break through. These trials are the key. Without them, Ki corrodes the body… or worse, drives the mind out of control. That's one of the reasons there are so few who truly wield Ki in Spirtha."
Stella stiffened beside me. She didn't need him to say it—her earlier frenzy had already been proof.
"The first trial," Stark went on, "is considered the easiest. But don't mistake that for mercy. The more people who enter together, the harder it becomes. The trial itself will give you an objective. You'll have to discover what it wants and solve it before it consumes you."
"And there are how many of these?" I asked.
A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. "Eight that we know of. Some whisper there may be more beyond that… but no one who's reached the end ever spoke of it again."
I swallowed hard. More than eight?
"Understand this," Stark said firmly, his eyes narrowing. "Once you pass the third trial, you no longer have to continue. By then, your mind won't collapse, and your Ki won't surge out of control. But…" His gaze slid toward Stella.
"If you stop early, you'll never reach your full potential."
Stella's jaw tightened, her eyes lowering to her hands.
Stark sipped from his cup, his gaze fixed on the fire. "These aren't simple trials. They test what you're willing to lose."
I frowned. "Lose? You mean like—"
"Not just your lives." His voice dropped, steady but heavy. "Your will… even your sense of self."
"There's something else," Stark added. "When you complete the first trial, you gain your affinity. That's why it's unavoidable. But the stronger your affinity is, the greater the chance of a curse. How severe it becomes depends on the strength of that affinity."
My chest tightened. "And Stella…?"
His expression hardened. "It looks like she's already carrying one."
Silence pressed down on the room. Stella's lips parted, but no words came—only a flicker of fear in her eyes before she turned away, hiding it behind her usual scowl.
I clenched my fist and gritted my teeth.
'I won't let her die like this.'
"As for Nox," Stark said finally, glancing at the gryphon, "he'll stay here with me. I'll train him while you're gone."
"But I thought you said our bond would get stronger to grow?"
Stark raised one finger, "One reason, if all three of you go, you will all die."
'I'm really gonna miss Nox.'
"When do we leave?" I asked, voice dry.
"Today," Stark replied without hesitation.
Raising a brow, I asked, "And how long will it take?"
"Up to a year,"
I almost shouted until I realized what effect that might have on Stella.
"One more question," I said, hands raised in exasperation.
"How do you expect me to do some ancient Ki trial with this wound today?"
Stark's tone roughened. "Alright, I know you're confused, worried, and slightly mad. You'll be fine on the way there. I called someone to escort you. You'll fly, and he can manage your wound for you.. Suddenly, chairs and lanterns shook.
Stark smirked. "Here she is."
'She?'
One by one, we climbed down the ladder and met the cold stare of a wyvern made of water. Smaller than the crab, yet still towering, its body a living torrent—water streaming through every limb, every scale. Its fanged overbite glistened like sculpted glass, teeth ready to shred flesh as easily as a river tears through stone.
A woman hopped off. Blue-skinned, fins where her ears would be, black hair, black eyes. She wore Mulsivar knight armor with a star engraved into the breastplate, and goggles rested on her head.
"She is one badass looking person."
"They're getting escorted to the Colossus captain?" the woman asked smoothly.
"Captain? Your own squad?"
Stark waved, ignoring me. "You need to get them there. No time for introductions."
"Stella's curse could start activating soon."
She saluted. "Yes, sir."
We climbed onto the wyvern. Stella and I sat behind her.
"What am I supposed to hold onto?" I asked.
"Just relax and watch the magic," she said calmly. As we sank into the dragon's back, water crept up my wound.
'It feels good.'
I didn't notice, but Stella held onto my hips. At first, it embarrassed me until Stark shouted, "Remember what you learned! Use your Ki, and do not hesitate to kill!"
I nodded, and the wyvern took to the skies. The wind roared past, insects pelted my face, and my ears popped as we ascended.
"Disgusting pfh pth pth!" I muttered, spitting, but some went back in my mouth—and some onto Stella.
"Stop that, Damien!" she yelled.
The world blurred below us. For a moment, I forgot the burn on my side.
"Are you holding on to me?" I shouted.
Stella's knuckles were white on my hips. "If I fall, you'd better jump after me!"
I grinned.
Don't worry. I'd catch you. Probably."
"Probably?" she shot back.
"Hey, I've never practiced catching people mid-air. You'd be my first test run."
Stella groaned but leaned closer. "You really think… we can do this? Trials, curses, all of it?"
"I don't know," I admitted. "But if I'm still breathing tomorrow, that's enough reason to keep trying. And you—" I glanced at her.
"You're my reason to keep trying."
"…Idiot," she muttered.
I asked curiously, "What's your name?" I stared at the back of the woman who was steering the wyvern.
"Frisk. And you're Damien, she's Stella?"
"Girlfriend?"
"No! We met this month."
Frisk laughed; Stella held on tighter.
I stared at the wyvern's wing. "Are you a Spirtha wielder?"
"Yeah," she replied after a pause.
Hours passed as we hovered over clouds. Stella's grip on me slowly began to weaken. Frisk shouted, "Hold on tight, we are here!"
The dragon spiraled downward. The sea frothed below, revealing the true island. It wasn't just an island—it was a colossal turtle. Its shell cracked like stone plates, each the size of a house, mangroves clinging stubbornly to its back. Birds scattered in the mist.
We landed. I tightened my grip on Stella's hand. "We're standing on a living giant…"
She was pale, her Ki flickering out of her body, and two small fangs were growing from her teeth. I lifted her.
'Damn, you're heavier than you look.'
Frisk stayed on the dragon, alert.
"Chant the words of the golden sign below the statue," she said, almost.
Petrified, before flying off.
Inside the cave, Stella grew paler.
"Look, Stel, I'm not letting it end here. Stay with me."
A faint smile appeared on her lips, but she didn't speak.
We pushed through glowing vines, over ruins of broken arches and shattered pillars, symbols etched in the walls pulsing faintly with green-blue light. Pools of still water mirrored the glow, casting dancing light on the ceiling. Her weight was heavy, but I carried her as if letting go wasn't an option.
"You can sleep," I whispered.
"Don't… drop me," she murmured.
"I wouldn't think about it," I replied.
Finally, I found the statue. Stella was still alive. I set her down and approached the figure—stone wings, trumpet raised. I repeated the chant:
"The true trial of one, for some may succumb. The beast wanders the lands, and the king holds it in captivity. The girl became the beast; he became what she hated. The kingdom will fall, the people will sing, the sky will tear, and corruption will be punished. You must not waver to slay the threat."
Nothing happened—then the trumpet turned golden and played. The ground lurched. The statue's eyes flared with blinding light. Everything went black.