Fantasy 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐙𝐄𝐍𝐔𝐀 𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒

[triples]

the first trial

Low chanting echoes in solemn air. Torches flicker, shaken, just as you. You lie uncertain of what is to come, as all are in the face of the prophecy. The empty room weighs heavy on your chest, the stone bed feels glacial against your back. Perhaps you are listening to the shallow breaths of your companions, strangers in whose hands your world now rests. Perhaps all you can hear is the stammering beat of your own heart. It will all fade soon. It will fade to the sound of something other.

The ritual has begun, your duty is calling.

Your vision grows mistier with every blink, as if the sky is leaking into you, blinding. You can feel the blood in your veins, your life manifested. You can feel your limbs melting away, one by one. The burdens that tethered on the edge of crushing you — you have forgotten them. Your soul is slipping out of your grasp, yet all you feel is calm. Perhaps you try to fight it, perhaps you sense the danger in this overwhelming peace. It will not last long.

You close your eyes.

--------------------------------------- ❊ ----------------------------------------​

And you open them once more, to clouds floating in a cerulean expanse. The crashing of waves, the sand underneath, the greenery that cuts the edges of your sight; they leave no question for where you are. An island, a white canvas with viridescent stretches, serene and ethereal. Birds do not screech or caw, you are the only life here; whether dread or curiosity, there is an enduring impression left in your bones. In the silence of this first moment, a divine message is bestowed, voiceless and melodic, a song etched into your mind.

Find the beauty in the fire.

Confusion does not linger quite the same as awe, when you look out to what you thought was the sea — and all you see is an expanse of boiling lava. The fire, at least, need not be searched for much longer.

Welcome, child, to the realm of the gods.

Welcome, champion, to Daisini's trial.

 

[cavitea]

altan.

a man forged from flames.

Her eyes were crumbling earth, a rare comfort to the fingers of a child wriggling to escape the forge. Dipped in golden essence and breathed life into they were captivating; it was an enrapturing net he fondly made his home in. Legs folded themselves on the knots obediently, aching sinew relieved of aching at the whisper of wintered intimacies and an accompanying smile.

"Altan, my dearest summer."

It plucked on a harpsichord within him, a melancholic trail of notes stinging along waterlines. Tears wished to fall at the sound, to drip onto stones and dampen away dust lingering in the crevices of aging fingers. Only a smile held it away; only a smile brushed the dust instead into tangling weaves and pulled closer the warmth and comfort.

Tsetsegmaa, a flower on a bed of petals, a chirping of a bird wrapped in the exciting throes of aging and expectant motherhood. She was glimpses of light through leaves, a soothing balm on breaking back and tearing wounds; a reprieve he allowed himself the greed of basking in, if in secrecy.

The crinkle of a nose upwards prompted another break, another breath of air.

"I would trade these poor hands for you, all of my feet too."

He would whisper and she would laugh, eyes pinching themselves shut in a growing amount of wrinkles. Her beauty only rose for him, a ripple roaring towards a typhoon that praise towards received a cheeked reply, a swat along scarred skin. Instead admiration was enough, a bent head in a lowly bow before her altar.

A lullaby crooned him closer, a soothe to unborn child and calloused man, a song of her invention and filled with feathered affection. It said I love you in the way they never felt the need to. Through their family they expressed it instead, foundation built on a silent affection reflected in softened touches and softer eyes.

Altan could have stayed there forever, listened to the song until his hearing gave out to age and he only caught glimpses of notes in his head.

It never lasted that way, but he dearly wished it would.

Instead the lullaby crumbled, as it always did. The waiting expanse of a cheek crackled in front of flames he could never put out, coiling as fodder to a green fire. She would stare pointedly at him with those earth-defying eyes, flickering as she did with a blankness that couldn't be filled. A smile was a parting gift, a haze that wrapped his lungs and squeezed until her melody turned to whispers, haunting and echoed.

"Don't get burned."

═════════════════​

A hand could've reached into his chest and pulled out a beating heart; it would've been less jolting than eyes opening to sun-filled skies and the prickling of heat. Sweat beaded itself on his crown, the squint of sleep clinging eyes only allowing themselves a short adjustment before a voice rang clearly in his head.

Find the beauty in the fire.

If he wasn't prone to a slack expression he would've spat and sneered, a throb along temple doing little to slow the mass of a man. Moments ago he had been wrapped it what could've been the sweetened throes of memory, a softness brought on by a mist he struggled to remember.

Despite the ending he ached, a casualty of age and heart alike. Fingers dug into the shifting land below him, a strain of muscles flexing themselves until a broken body rolled itself forward and upwards into a seated position. The air hung with death's silence, a shroud pulled over the widow yet to break down in hysterics. Having company in other champions wouldn't aide the hackles raising themselves.

Find the beauty in the fire.

Poisonous words when muttered to a weary mind, worse as a tongue tasted brimstone and eyes settled on an unwelcoming sight of magma. It bubbled and boiled and he cowered within the shell of himself, digging bruised fingers further into unstable earth in a betraying trepidation. He wielded fire, controlled into steel and bent it with the will of a vengeful god. In a forge, at least, he had the illusion of power; even as sweat fell and thumbs trembled he was capable of convincing himself he had power.

Nobody really does, though.

A pop of magma settled a grimace on the face of the blacksmith, buried underneath blackened whiskers as a bow he clutched fingers around drew itself flush to his side. Some things had not changed since his eyes closed and for that he could breath. Rings still hung in their shackle on his neck and the bow still carried the layer of dust he refused to wipe off.

Now his grip clutched and with it the aching muscles that pushed the broad man to his feet. He stooped slightly at his tallest height, a bend in his back he had long stopped paying attention to. It marked only the age of his wrinkles, the greying glimpses of time peeking out between tresses of shadow.

He was older, at the very least. Compared to the fresh faces he had allowed himself but glimpses of he was surely the oldest to be present at the trial. No less capable, he'd still push, shifting his limbs in a cautionary step towards the sea of lava, eyes already squinting along the foreign lengths of sand and beach for objects that may be of use, however small. Fire was unwieldable here, uncontrollable and a beast on its own but a challenge existed all the same.

"We'll figure this out yet, my dear."

A shuffling step took him away from the indent of his body, bow held to his chest as he brushed sandal-clad feet through grains of sand, wary of his distance to flame.

the coast

blacksmith garb

open to champions

 

[Uxie]

ye-hee.

designated divine message inbox.

Ye-hee had never been much of a dreamer — not in the idealistic sense, but in that she rarely ever saw things while she slept. She lacked no shortage of imagination, yet her mindscape as she slept was always barren. Perhaps she did dream, but her memories did not stay, because they were always bundled up and tossed away to make space for all of the ideas she had while conscious; or perhaps dreams were more messages from the gods, and they told her everything she needed to know in the daylight. Comforting sentiments as a child, but redundant as she grew older and wiser.

A stone bed is no lovely place to sleep, but maybe it was the right place to be for a dream. Or maybe it had been the adventure that lay ahead that pushed her mind to concoct an illusion for her to relish in while she passed to the other realm.

Whatever the reason, she had certainly preferred when she didn't have dreams.

It was nothing short of a hellscape; The image had been that of a darkened sky, hazed and clouded in a shade of rumbling grey that screamed of a terrible storm. The air swirled with ash and cinders, the distinct smell of blood that sank through the air in droves of inescapable dread accompanied by far-off, muted cries — distant, because the barren land beneath her no longer held living breaths to cry.

An optimistic gift from the gods, certainly! What was this, an omen?

Her gaze travelled down, meeting the unseeing stare of a fighter's head, and she shuddered. She was an unwilling spectator, with feet that would not move and eyes that would not close, ignorance a loathsome privilege far beyond her grasp. Fear, no, sheer dread gnawed at her being, and her stomach sank.

Do you see? You are right to be afraid.

It was with a choked gasp that she awoke from her slumber, eyes flicking open and shut in the breath of a second. A small groan slipped from her lips at the sunlight that leaked through her lids, and she allowed herself just two moments more to adjust before she attempted once more — this time at a far slower, more cautious pace. Eased into with moderation, Ye-hee was far more content seeing a normal, azure sky than one stained with the throes of war, although it was far from what she'd been bracing herself for.

What a lovely-looking cloud. It looks a bit like a bird.

As if in response (though it would be a very poor, nonsensical response), an echoing voice resonated through her mind. A familiar thrall that she'd grown so accustomed to, enough that it almost felt comforting in spite of the enigma it delivered.

Find the beauty in fire.

Her hands fumbled against the unfamiliar texture of fine earth, grasping and shuffling until she at last pushed herself to her feet in a clumsy flurry of white silk. A step forward, toe instantly bumping against her poor, forgotten carry-along. It was deftly swiped up, tucked into her belt with a sprinkle of embarrassment — a mild blunder that, surely, nobody would notice — and she could finally turn her attention towards her surroundings. Most notably, of course, in the blinding sea of magma that popped and pulsed like the belly of a monstrous creature; the fire certainly made itself known.

"Well, it is beautiful,"

She paused purposefully, lips pressed together in anticipation.

The sea rumbled and hummed. Ye-hee blew out a resigned breath.

"It was worth a try!"

With that, she trudged forward uneasily, slowly growing accustomed to how the sand seemed to shift beneath her every step. Solid, yet fluid, and a mildly terrifying experience for a girl who had been to the beach once in her life (at the wise old age of two), but it was with some silly unfounded pride that she refused to let it show.

There is no shame in not knowing; Master Hon would whisper, Only if you become content with what you know.

This was an exceptional case, Master, because she could not be seen walking like a newborn in front of companions with which she was meant to save the world. Especially so, when most of them had the iciest of demeanours. All stoic, solemn types with no penchant for conversation — save for that spirited Shinsoran painter — but perhaps they would become more talkative when presented with their challenge.

But first... It seemed imperative she get a closer look.

Ye-hee bumbled forward, approaching the lava with all the grace of a turtle. She stopped just some ways away from the flames that licked at the shore, dropping into a comfortable squat. Even from her distance, she could feel the heat upon her face, a feeling as cosy as it was menacing. Was embracing the fire finding its beauty? What were the odds of her burning to death if she attempted to wade in? Her head cocked curiously. 100%, if it was real. Was it real?

She turned back to her companions, and her gaze found the Dulaan representative who stood with eyes transfixed upon the flaming horizon. His demeanour already seemed weary, despite the few moments they had spent in the realm yet, but would a son of Daisini not know the most of fire?

"Sir Altan,"

She called out,

"How often do you work with liquid fire? Do you think it's real lava?"

It was after a moment's thought that she pushed herself to her feet hurriedly.

"Ah, I apologise! May I address you as such? Or would you prefer something else?"

Speaking in formalities was always a chore, but better to err on the side of caution with the other champions for now — he was an elder, too, after all. Her head bowed in greeting,

"I am the representative of Hyeon. You may call me Ye-hee."

the coast

hyeon robes

Altan, but she is quite loud.

 

[ravensunset]

min-seo.

the sea, the sea, the sea.

The sea is an unpredictable creature, and it is also a rhythmic one. The waves pulse, back and forth, lapping at the sand. One recedes, and another one comes, right on cue. Over longer times, too, it starts low on the beach and rises up as high tide comes, and fades back down. No matter what fluctuations occur, the sea will always be there, she will always settle into her patterns.

Min-seo had always only wanted to break free of her own.

As the sound of chants and fire sparks thundered and then stilled around her, Min-seo wondered whether she would ever be able to. Her hand curled into tight fists. She had fought, had won her own first challenge already. Her blood pulsed, perhaps with the force of the sea in it. Already onto the next step; what would happen when she returned? Would she simply be forced back into her life, the journey just a momentary fluctuation?

Min-seo’s blood rushed, blocking out all other noise. Her consciousness faded, despite a desperate attempt to dig in and hold onto it.

The first sense to return to Min-seo was marked by the sound of a sea.

For just a moment, she was a half-awake young girl, fallen asleep under the sun with the waves lapping at her. Her brother shook her awake, and for a moment she did not know she was not in her own bed. He’d laughed, and she’d shaken the sand out of her hair as she came to, slowly, trustingly.

This day, however, as her mind returned to her, she was near no one familiar, and it was not the sound of her sea at all.

Min-seo acted, pushed herself to her feet before she allowed herself to blink, to wake. A woven net lay in the sand next to her; fingers closed around it, pulling it up to rest on her shoulder. She was up, standing, in position, and then she allowed herself to look around.

There was no sea around her. Only molten fire. It carried the patterns of a sea, waves crashing, and the rest of the island seemed not to notice, the trees standing tall. What were their roots drinking from? Perhaps it had not fooled everything, the silence marking clear the lack of wildlife, and it would not fool Min-seo, either. There was no sea without water, and no life in the fire.

As though sent only to argue with her, the message was delivered.

Find the beauty in the fire.

Min-seo let out a slow, precise breath. Daisini; It was not her trial first, and she was deeply grateful for it.

Quicker than her in both waking and words, another champion was already discussing the trial. It is beautiful, she said, and Min-seo wondered if she meant it. The Hyeon representative was either a deeply ungraceful woman or unaccustomed to the beach sand, and Min-seo took a step closer to the lava herself, a subconscious display.

Unfortunately, she seemed to have had the right idea. Min-seo’s gaze flickered towards Altan. The clear elder of the group, likely the most experienced. Was it a coincidence that his trial was first? It was how she’d do it, start with either the strongest or the weakest link. Min-seo shook the thought out of her head. She was playing by human politics. The gods, likely, would not be.

Dark eyes, turned, between Ye-hee, Altan, and the others, still rising to their feet. Wordlessly, Min-seo walked off the beach, and with a snap, broke off a branch of a growing bush. A sharp turn on her heel, and she walked towards Ye-hee, placing more effort than usual to ensure her steps through the sand were as seamless as anyone from Daeya’s must be.

She stopped on the same level to the false-sea as the other woman, yet a few paces left of her. An underhand throw, and the branch landed atop the flames, and just as expected of true fire, started to burn.

“It does appear to be real lava.”

Min-seo spoke. Her heart thudded as she forced the words out– could they hear the sound of an imposter?– but she did so anyways. She could not hide long. She turned to Altan first, lowering her head in a bow as Ye-hee had done, and then copied the motion towards the other woman.

“You may address me as Min-seo. I hope we will be able to work well together.”

Her voice was her own; dry, humorless, unconvincing, matching the near-frown of her expression, but not shaken.

The branch was, before long, reduced to ash. Min-seo supposed there were some similarities between the fire and the sea; the sea, too, consumed hungrily what was thrown into it, the same as the lava ate away at sparking wood. The difference, perhaps, lay in that water, on occasion, spat back out what it was done with. Her eyes traced the shape of the horizon, where fire met sky, the realm of the gods they’d been thrown into, and wondered in which way they all would be feasted on.

the coast

Daeya formal robes

Ye-hee, altan

 

[Xed]

Shen.

he who sees in other ways

You might have won the right in the challenge somehow but you will never be worthy as our champion. You are a disgrace to the ways of the Shizu.

Those were the words his clansmen had sent him off to the trial with. Hateful, spiteful, bitter with rage, disgust and envy that the blind shame of Shizu had beaten all of them. They were amongst the thoughts that filled his mind as he lay on the cold stone bed, the low chants droning in the background. It didn't matter though, the only thing that mattered was that he had gotten chosen. He was their champion, no matter how they felt about the matter, and as long as he was their champion, Shen could prove that he was worthy. No one in Shizu represented balance better than he did, even if they thought he was one who had broken the taboos of Shizu, who had destroyed balance by daring to learn the ways of healing even though he was a man. The chants began to fade into the background, still constant in his ear, but drifting further and further away as he felt the coherence of his thoughts begin to slip away from him. Between his knowledge of poisons and healing... of the domains of men and women... he... he was the one... within him... he held balance... he was sure of it...

The first thing Shen noticed was the heat, a sweltering heat that hung thickly in the air and seemed to cling to his skin, oppress it like an invisible, palpable pressure. There was an acrid smell that singed his nose and the ground was grainy, slightly rough on the skin and shifted with him as he moved to stand upright, his fingers sinking into it as he pushed himself up. It wasn't a sensation he was all too familiar with from living in the forest, but he recognised it from back when he was still a warrior of Shizu, in a battle against one of the clans. Sand. Sand and an extreme heat that seemed to radiate from his left. Where was he?

Find the beauty in the fire.

Fire? That wasn't the sound of fire he was hearing though. There was the sound of crackling and sizzling but there was also a rumble, a weight to the sound. The sound of something moving in a way that fire certainly didn't. This was the heat of fire in a different form. Fire that was not fire. For now he would wait for the other champions. He did not know what beauty it was the Gods wanted them to seek, his mind left him inclined to believe it was not the typical sort of beauty, beauty by way of sight. The elaborate dance of orange and yellow was no longer one he was privy to but the image was burned into his memory. Still the memory was likely a useless one. He would have to rely on the other champions to fill in for the sense he now lacked. The beauty they wanted them to seek in the fire, he was certain it had nothing to do with sight, but there was always the possibility that it was and the chance that his own assessment and instinct drove him in a different direction because he no longer possessed sight.

Shen listened to the voices of the other champions. They were coming from his left, in the direction of the source of heat and he turned his body so he was facing it. One was the representative of Dulaan and the other from Hyeon. The one from Hyeon, Ye-Hee, was loud enough that you could hear her easily above all the background noise. Frankly she chatted far too much about many an unimportant and frivolous detail but it seemed like as chatty and loud as she might be, there would always be one or two useful bits of information tossed into the conversation, in this case the identity of Altan as hinted by her mention of him working with liquid fire and that the fire they were supposed to find beauty in was really lava. Shen trusted in his senses but it was always useful to have confirmation he was right. There was the sound of something hitting the lava, a little plop and splash that suggested someone had tossed something in and then a third voice joined in on the conversation, a woman, Min-seo, the source of whatever it was that had gone into the pool of death it seemed. The voices all sounded like they were gathered in the same place, but Shen made little inclination to move from where he was. He could roughly gauge from the level of heat his body sensed that he was far enough from the lava to likely make the trip toward them safely, but this was an unfamiliar place and the ground was sand which was uneven and made things a little more tricky for him, but above all there was no reason for him to move about carelessly. There was no telling if there were traps or dangers lying in wait nearby and he did not need to give away any hints of his condition. He and the other champions might be allies for this trial but once it was over, this temporary alliance would be over too. He would do whatever was necessary for the completion of these trials but nothing more.

"Perhaps the beauty we are to seek lies in the properties of the lava or what fire can do, the question is, what do we do once we find the answer and where do we go?"

the coast

Shizu robes

Ye-hee, Altan, Min-seo

 

[iridescent.]

ryuusei

the one who dreams his paintings and paints his dreams

"What is that?"

"Is it a bird?"

“No— I think—“

"It is a willow tree," Ryuusei had finally responded, “a willow tree that has been caught in the tails of the north winds, whose branches and leaves are unsure of which direction to face or whether they should be in a state of rest.”

He’d witnessed this very scene the other day. It was a particularly fine day, albeit quite windy. Having just completed his bathing rituals for the day, he emerged from the river at the perfect time to witness the cataclysm of the wind against the tree branches. But painting was done for the day, so the transferring of the mind’s image onto canvas would have to wait for another.

The willow’s branches were still at the forefront of Ryu’s mind when mahogany orbs opened for the first time. It had been a good dream, well, more of a memory, and he wasn’t quite sure he wanted it to end. However, the unease that slowly crept in obliterated any image of swaying foliage that remained.

His back hurt. The stone he was laying on was rough and cold; he was used to the soft, pillowy expanses of the grasses back home. This was anything but that. Nearby voices were making his ears hurt, giving him a minor headache. Scrunching his nose up slightly in discomfort, Ryuusei turned his head and cracked open an eye.

There appeared to be a male with a bow; a smaller, female figure that was the cause of the discomfort on his eardrums; another female who was poking something with a stick and then another male who mentioned something about lava. Where did lava come from? And then his own question was answered.

Find beauty in the fire.

Ah. The lava must be the fire. Well, finding the beauty within shouldn’t be too hard, for him anyways. At least once per month, Ryuusei found himself painting the dancing flames that emerged from the fires they had at the clan centers, found himself absorbed in capturing them perfectly in his minds eye rather than pay attention to anything the leaders were saying.

With a sigh, he pushed himself off of the abrasive material he had been laid upon and slowly, cautiously, approached where the others were standing. Having been asleep for the introductions (or, well, at least he assumed there were introductions), Ryuusei had no idea of what anyone’s name was. And he wasn’t about to ask. Instead, he gave a small yet polite bow to each of the four followed by “My name is Ryuusei, and I am a painter from Shinsora.” It was pointless to say he was the champion from his clan; they all were.

Unsure of what else to say and unwilling to be the one to initiate conversation with complete strangers, Ryu walked right to the edge of the lava and sat down. It was hot, to say the least. However, he barely noticed the temperatures, entire being wholly focused on the red, orange and yellow hues of the magma as it bubbled and popped, already thinking about the colors he’d blend in order to achieve symmetry on the canvas. He was wondering if he’d be able to accurately convey the deadly beauty of it all in a painting; the way the lava enticed the viewer as if they were watching a liquid sunset yet would ultimately lead them to their demise should they try to immerse themselves within the setting sun.

The paintbrush felt heavy in his pocket. Oh, how he wished there was a blank canvas in front of him.

the coast

shinsora swag

altan, yehee, minseo, shen

 

[draconicheart]

kazuki.

the overseer.

Kazuki, as intimately familiar with death he is, is also adept at the art of sleeping in.

Having come from a bustling household of children of varying ages, the somewhat above-average din that ebbs and flows seemingly at random has trained him very well in this regard. While he aided his mother in her duties as a Caretaker, and certainly is no less professional in his own line of work, he also cannot help but indulge himself in this selfish regard. If there is one sin for a holy man to commit it might as well be ensuring one is well-rested.

So when he becomes aware of the glaring light of day hitting his eyelids and the shuffle of others near him stirring, Kazuki brushes it off and clings to some semblance of slumber. A voice in his head, the soft sounds of fabric rustling and people walking on an earthen floor - he listens, he awaits patiently, but moreso he pays attention to the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Sleep is the closest state a living being can be to death, and even then there are the ever-present signs of life.

He fills his lungs with air - a deep breath - and decides it is likely a good enough time to face whatever may be found in life for today.

He opens his eyes.

What greets him is a pristine blue sky and a spring, midday sun. A fresh breeze caresses his cheek, the edge of his vision betrays the rough outline of leaves - branches cutting into his view of the fluffy white clouds overhead. He feels the scratch of grass under his hands.

Briefly - dumbly - he wonders if he has awoken to his new life so soon. Pushing himself into a sitting position confirms this is not the case, as he is still wearing the familiar black-grey-purple robes of his position. He sees his flute laying near him in the grassy atoll; he picks it up, dusts it off, and stores it in his robes for safekeeping.

Or, perhaps, has found his way to Seikami's realm already. He takes his pulse on instinct, feels the pulse that tenuously connects him to the thread of life. No, not yet. His journey has yet to continue.

It appears he is the last of those chosen for the trial to awaken. The rest of the group is a ways away, clustered together a respectable distance away from each other out in the open coastline.

He takes a moment to observe those who could prove to be enemies of his home.

The first one he notices is the one brazenly carrying a weapon with him. Though without arrows, it was still a power display. A threat. The man who carried it was the identified as a representative of Dulaan by another. Of course. He was ridden with scars and strong in his build with skin like worn leather. He was also old. He carried the weight of life heavy upon his shoulders, tired in the way Kazuki has seen in the elderly nearing the end of their life's path. It's clear he was perhaps some renowned warrior whose legend and reuptation are meant to impress upon the other clans the respectable ways of the Dulaan warriors.

Another - a girl wearing white robes, who also carried a weapon, a martial fan tucked into her silk sash like an afterthought - spoke loudly and animatedly. She seemed more akin to the orphan children that live with his mother than the representative of Hyeon that she identified herself as.

Her and another walked like fawns on the sand. The man had a blank look on his face, as though he was focusing on listening rather than seeing. Kazuki has seen similar looks on his clanmates who are visually impaired.

The Shinsora painter seemed... Base. Flippant. In fact, he's not entirely sure why an artist would be here.

It seems the only competent people here is the representative from Daeya and...

Kazuki's eyes drift once more to the Dulaan champion's bow, and suddenly he feels foolish for bringing a flute instead of a knife.

He looks forlornly out at the expanse of red sea before them. No boat can sail these waters. There is no salvation, no returning home. A deep pang pulls at his gut, the reminder of his mother's crying face as he parts from his home for the first time - he hopes it was not his last.

"We should go further inland,"

Kazuki doesn't address anyone in particular but rather looks at everyone in the group in the eyes, unflinching.

"We should see what lies there. Particularly if we are to remain here for long."

the coast

overseer robes

the champions

 

[cavitea]

altan.

a man forged from flames.

Altan had thought for a moment he would be in peace to his thoughts, have the time to gather them as he gathered sand along barren feet. Such a rattling dream and the start of trials brought with it its own challenges, sour-tasting and cold.

"How often do you work with liquid fire?"

Eyes stirred away from the popping flames, turned towards softened voice and peaceful flute. A cloud spoke to him, wrapped in the colors of heavens as a mouth formed his name and a question to fire and smoke. His fingers curled in on themselves at the bowing tongue of respect, a dry mouth unable to respond in immediate earnest. It was perhaps fortunate then that a toss in the sky took attention away from expectant youth and instead to the yearning maw of fire retching sounds in a frenzy to the food. Magma boiled and his shoulders tensed towards a stalking form of another.

"You may address me as Min-seo."

Her eyes were stone walls, a propping of wood pushing back shoulders and up a chin. Had he not been the only representative from Dulaan he would have assumed she was a daughter he had yet to meet; surely somewhere there was blood muddled and mixed. Min-seo. It was a mirror he had no wish to look into, even as she bowed her head in a mimic of sky. A body captured under the secret-bound skin of youth.

More forms approached and Altan sighed.

There was a youth that sat dangerously to flames and he sucked in a breath, teetering his focus from silent gazes to a prayer in his mind for guidance. Hands wanted to reach out and draw them away from the flames, spit down on the gods sitting mockingly from painted thrones. He entered this trial with no intention to leave and already he felt lost, floating in the senseless illusionary drug-induced dream.

"We should go further inland," Tsetsegmaa spoke and he turned his head, a widening of eyes dashed under a hardened look, forlorn and unbending. It was a voice in spirit alone, a warmth lingering as the final piece of the champions settled themselves along the sand. Somewhere he felt the indentations of hands on his shoulders, a nudge that scolded him of quiet tones and a lack of stepping forward. All of those here were here to prove something, one way or another.

"I am Altan, of Dulaan; I do not need honorifics." Hesitation filled every anticipated word, grunted syllables as eyes passed once over the heads that had bowed. Shifted step took his uncertainty back in the sand, an avoidant gaze that passed along the knees of what he hoped was the representative of Yurei.

"This one is the closest to what we may seek. Fire is curdled by steel and stone, lava speaks a different mother tongue." It ran unstoppable in his mind, chortling liquid that consumed in wanton coiling rage. Slowly it crept, dangerous still as the viper cousin that flicked out forked tongues. Still, Altan knew it, knew the way it moved in ways the youth around him did not.

The scars running in jagged memory on his face twitched in a defeated grimace. "I've seen before the way water hardens the surface. A blacksmith split it into a glass. If somehow we found a way then perhaps," a dry swallow split his words, the weeping flush of taking control faltering, "Perhaps I can make something out of it."

A bow swiveled in his hands, pressed against sand like a cane before his stooping back began in a cautionary step away from magma-laden ocean towards the inland. It was all he could bring himself to do to hide behind wrinkled experience and grizzled appearance, all he could do to push the shake of fingers into carven wood.

Pretend further, don't break yet.

"Come along then if you all will, you especially one who sits so dangerously close to flame. I'm sure Drasini has far more to offer than something to warm our faces at."

the coast

blacksmith garb

all champions

 

[Uxie]

ye-hee.

too-noisy priestess.

Ye-hee watched the champion of Daeya with interest, a small smile slipping on her lips as she plucked a twig and delivered it to the lake of lava.

"How clever!"

She remarked with a clap of her hands, adding mildly,

"But we best be careful taking everything at face-value within the gods' realm. They are not governed by the same laws we are."

"You may address me as Min-seo. I hope we will be able to work well together." The introduction was enough to coax her smile wider, and Ye-hee beamed at her before turning her attention back to the rest of her companions. The Shinsoran painter seemed preoccupied with his other thoughts, offering but a brief introduction before seating himself quietly by the lava, while the Shizu warrior fumbled cautiously towards them. Expression blank whilst eyes closed and unseeing, it was a circumstance that beckoned to draw sympathy. Ye-hee wondered briefly of such a sombre, pitch-black world— how easy it must be to be ignorant, and how terrifying of a prospect that was.

Open-minded as she was to other forms of sensing and seeking, she was less sure of her own resilience; a pitiful circumstance but admirable will.

"We should go further inland," comes the voice of their last companion, a beautiful omen of death, and Ye-hee felt a small lump grow in her throat. His black robes were reminiscent of her (maybe-prophetic) dream, and Seikami was as divine as he was grim. They were an overseer, she had heard, one who presides over eternal rest, she had read; she wondered if they might hear the lilting melody of quietus.

And finally, the oldest of them spoke. "Fire is curdled by steel and stone, lava speaks a different mother tongue." Ye-hee listened intently, curiously, to words almost of a foreign language, the experience embedded within his speech, and of a world she had merely comprised of but letters on a page until then.

He has seen the dangers of fire, and he has lived to tell its tale.

Altan stepped towards the inland, and Ye-hee hummed a quiet tone of interest before she followed with a quick but careful step through the sand. How cutting it was to see fresh green against red and orange, devoid of life while life itself whilst surrounded by the breathing belly of flame that seemed to itch to consume. What dwelled within the silent forest, and what of Daisini's tests lay in wait?

She arrived at Altan's side, gaze cast ahead in a survey of the greenery; tall trees concealed any clear hint of what other realms they may find beyond, shrouding the path ahead in a shadowed, warm ambience. Ye-hee was itching to find out, but her feet stayed where they were, somewhat apprehensive to venture forth without the rest of their companions. She noted bemusedly the poor bush that Min-seo had stolen an arm from before her attention turned discreetly to her aged companion. Callused fingers and cracked skin that told as much of his story as his words had, though wrapped confusingly around a bow without arrows to shoot.

"Are you familiar with fletching too?"

she asked, gesturing to the bow before her hands fell into a backhand clasp. She'd have thought a blacksmith may bring a hammer of some sort, but then again, her own uncharacteristic item remained bound to her robes.

"It is quite impressive to be skilled in several ways,"

A pause, and then a thoughtful addition,

"though I hope we do not find a need for weaponry ahead."

the coast

hyeon robes

all, but she is less loud this time

 

[iridescent.]

ryuusei

the one who dreams his paintings and paints his dreams

Though Ryuusei was intently observing the vivid artistry displayed in the molten magma klaid out before his very eyes, he couldn’t help but to overhear the suggestions of the others surrounding him.

“We should go further inland.” said one. Perhaps he should have listened when they mentioned their titles.

“This one is closest to what we may seek.” came the voice of another.

He agreed with that voice. This lava was exactly what they sought. He knew it to be true. “We do not need to travel any further at this moment,” he spoke mainly to the first person that had spoken, eyes not straying away from the beautiful albeit very deadly scene displayed before him. “It said to find beauty in the fire. This is the fire.”

Well, not quite. Technically, it was lava, but lava is molten and hot just like a fire. “Instead of arguing about where we should go or what we should do next, how about you all join me in studying the magma?” He scooted back a few inches away from said liquid fire, as if that were any incentive in getting them to join him in studying it.

“Look,” He pointed at a rock that was currently being annihilated by the incoming flow of the lava. “See how it is a dark orange-red when it flows but after coming into contact with the rock, explodes in a shower of golden-yellow sparks? That is something that can only happen in nature. Fire can kill you, yes, but you cannot deny that it is beautiful.”

Conversation continued behind him and he continued to observe the flow of the lava in front of him. However, movement to his left caught his eye and he turned his head. There, he spotted a grove of trees he had previously failed to notice. At their bases appeared to be dirt, but not loose dirt; dirt that formed the shape of a path.

“Come along then if you all will, you especially one who sits so dangerously close to flame—“

Ryuusei knew that the man was talking to him and reluctantly stood. Had he not seen the dirt path, he would’ve ignored the request entirely and remained where he was, continuing to study. Yet he did see the path and it was towards said path he set off to without saying a word to the others about where he was going.

to the trees

shinsora swag

altan, yehee, minseo, shen, kazuki

 

[ravensunset]

min-seo.

fish out of water.

Wholly destroyed, the branch disappeared from Min-seo’s view, though she did not wait to see its consumption. She was on guard as the others rose, grateful to have been in the earlier half of the champions rising from slumber, not left vulnerable in the stages of awakening. She had managed to catch Ye-hee’s attention with the move, and Min-seo’s shoulders straightened ever so slightly with the praise, yet she offered both the compliment and the warning no further recognition than a brief meeting of the eye, a tiny nod at her. Ye-hee did not seem to mind, if she noticed at all, her speech and attention already on the move as the representatives rose.

The others offered either introductions or further questions. No one yet had found an answer. The Shízu representative, a young man Min-seo hoped would be her most natural ally, simply worded the question they had all been asked. Min-seo had not seen Shízu warriors in action, but everyone knew the stories, and she had seen some of their force. He must have danger, or at very least trickery, hiding behind the quiet stance.

Once the group was completed, the last one to wake’s suggestion was to go further inland. Min-seo almost objected— they were told to find beauty in the fire, which was clearly the sea in front of them— but chose against speaking out so soon, and Altan responded first. The Dülaan representative agreed with the ruling, and Min-seo noted the older man’s claim, the information so freely stated. A blacksmith, then. It was his trial, his country, he was the clear strongest and most experienced of the group, and Min-seo knew it was a mistake to let him take leadership of them. It would tip the scales too far into his favor, too far into Dülaan’s, too far from Daeya’s. The war hadn’t yet ended.

But take it he did, and who could pose enough of a force to stop him? Ye-hee caught up to Altan, following along happily, having found a rhythm to walking through the sand. Min-seo offered the roaring force of the not-quite sea a final glance before too turning her back to it. She forced her free hand to open and lie flat against her side, her shoulders to keep straight and body well postured, and started towards the quiet green of the inland.

The Shinsora painter, who had earlier offered nothing but his name and had sat down next to the fire as though their goal was merely to sight-see, seemed most resistant to the suggestion. This is the fire, he started, and Min-seo was relieved that someone at least agreed, but then he kept going. Who had decided to send a painter? If the challenge could be won by simply thinking the fire was beautiful, it would have been already.

As her steps fell in line with that of the Shízu representative, she couldn’t contain the quietest huff from escaping her, a nearly unnoticeable sound of disapproval at Ryuusei’s speech. The painter, who she figured to be as unable to resist Altan’s command as any of them, stood. Yet, instead of following the line of the group, walked to the side of them. Min-seo could not tell what he was doing, and elected to continue along the way most of the group had set out.

“Any guesses as to what we may find?”

Min-seo’s eyes were not on the man she was walking beside, but on the growth ahead. She could tell no pattern in the green, bushes and trees like any forest left alone, though the only noise being their own voices and ever present roar of the fire behind did not allow her to forget it was not just any forest. She had a task ahead, and she was not home.

starting inland

Daeya formal robes

mostly shen

 

[Xed]

Shen.

he who sees in other ways

Find the beauty in the fire. The task at present, was one that Shen was utterly useless for, there was no doubt about that. The only thing he could offer was a different way of looking at the problem, an alternate perspective, but it was hard to provide that perspective when he didn't fully know what he was supposed to be looking at. He understood all that but at the same time, he couldn't shake the sense of frustration that clawed at him and the wish that he could see more than the occasional flicker of light.

Fighting the urge to kick his foot in the sand like a petulant child, Shen instead knelt down and scooped up a handful of it. He let the grains fall through his hands, rubbing them together with his fingers, clocking the texture, the feel, the smell. But all he was really doing, was giving himself something to keep him busy while the others debated about whether to stay where they were or move further inland, along a path one of them had discovered. It also helped him to reset his balance and get a better footing on the uneven surface. He'd be far happier once they moved to solid ground.

“Come along then if you all will, you especially one who sits so dangerously close to flame—“

Was moving away from the lava the right decision? Possibly not, but then lava might not be the only source of fire on the island, and unless they lost track of the path or it suddenly disappeared, they would be able to return if need be. For now, moving seemed to be the smarter decision than letting painter boy get entranced by the fire and lose track of all time simply because he was delighted by the colours and the golden sparks that so stoked his artistic sense and desire to paint. Shen had no interest in wasting precious time entertaining the painter's whims and fancies instead of making progress on their mission.
Rising to his feet again, Shen started to take slow, steady steps towards the voices, his shoulders easing a little when he sensed a presence fall in line beside him and heard the faintest little huff. Sounded like someone wasn't too happy about something, or perhaps a little tired. The texture of the ground beneath his feet changed and the firmness that greeted his step was a delight to Shen's senses, even as his face remained as expressionless as a rock. There was a slight softness to the ground. It was slightly rough but not cutting, with little bits that crumbled or stuck to his feet with each step, but most of it was firmly packed together.

"Any guesses as to what we may find?"

The voice came from beside him. He recognised it as belonging to the one called Min-Seo. The one who at present he assumed to be the source of whatever it was that had gotten throw into the sea of lava. That decision was either a sign of someone prudent who considered all possibilities or a sign of foolishness. Perhaps it was far too early and far too simple of an action for him to get a proper sense of their characters, but Shen was two steps behind without his sight. The faster he could bridge that gap, the better, and it never hurt to start trying to get a feel for people's characters.

"No clue."

He replied.

"We could find fire, water, trees, stone, anything or nothing."

He hoped they found the fire. That would make things easier. Maybe.

Starting Inland

Shizu robes

Min-seo