Trial of Reflections
Kayil Depa knelt, incense coming easily to hand. He had carried it with him over a journey of a thousand miles and twenty suns, but still he hesitated. Once burned, what had been started could not end and whatever fate was his could not be escaped.
The fire in front of him burned steadily, though no natural source could be found. That distracted him for a time, broke his thought from the enormity of what he had been called to do. Hands placed near the blaze told him it was not only hot but far hotter than any fire he had ever created, and it burned both day and night, rain or shine. Nothing could put it out.
It had been clear from the beginning that the path he sought to walk would be difficult – only the most ancient of scriptures mentioned anything about the flames and their mountain home. The Trial of Reflections was something very few undertook and only three had lived to write about; of those, two had been so vague as to be useless. The third was more specific, but even still Kayil found the passages maddening – as though the author had been deliberately trying to mislead.
He smiled as another light rain began to fall; under the same circumstance, he too might be vague simply for the sake of it, simply because he could.
Perhaps he would wait another night. Throwing the blood-red sticks into the fire as darkness descended sent a trembling fear up his spine – he had no idea what might emerge from the smoking pit.
With a snarl, he tossed the bundle forward. Kayil was tired of being afraid, tired of seeking only to never find because he was unwilling to endure the final mile, suffer through what was needed. He would survive, or he would die – at least he would know the truth of his worth.
A low crackling came as the incense began to burn; everything Kayil had read said slowly letting it be taken by the fire was not the proper course – it had to be destroyed, all at once, in order to deliver the intended effect.
An acrid smell began to waft over the stone-walled clearing, a choking cloud that had him clawing at his throat. As fast as Kayil could crawl away it enveloped him, twisting around his limbs and pouring into his lungs. The world began to waver, to shimmer, and soon a green cloud was all he could see, all he could smell, all he could taste.
It tasted like…death.
“Kayil…” a voice floated out from the center of the clearing, a ragged thing that was all too familiar. The hints he had been able to glean about the Trial made such a thing a possibility, but he had been unsure what form the spirit summoned would take. It appeared the writings he had found were all too literal.
“You believe yourself worthy of the Trial? A viable prospect?” Contempt was heavy in the voice – his voice – and it seemed to come from everywhere at once, echoing and redoubling on itself until Kayil was in the dirt, hands over his ears and mouth open in a silent scream.
As quickly as it appeared, the green fog was gone and Kayil found himself in a watery after-image of the clearing. Rocky cliffs shimmered, stars shone too brightly and the grass underneath his feet seemed almost alive, almost ready to lash out and pull him down. He stood quickly, turning to confront the summoned beast. Only a tamped fire stared back at him, azure flames replacing cherry red. Of the reflection that mocked him, there was no sign.
“Foolish little man,” the voice came from behind him and he spun, desperate to confront it head-on, to face it like a man. Cowardice had always been in his nature but he found that at what he was sure was his end he stood tall, willing to endure so long as he could look death in the eye.
Only empty, drifting air met his gaze.
“Dammit!” He swore into the haze. “I’ve called you – let us finish this!”
“Why should I?” Mockery laced the voice. “Why should I face you? What have you done to deserve such an honor?”
“I followed the path!” Kayil called into the wavering darkness, “Discovered what I required and trekked here. It has not been easy!”
A booming laugh spread out from nowhere, from everywhere. “Poor Kayil. So Willing to martyr yourself, so willing to claim you have been unfairly burdened. These are the things that have held you back, that have prevented your advancement in the Academy.”
It took effort, but Kayil controlled his temper and held his voice. The creature – his reflection – was right. Knowledge began to return with peace; confrontation was the purpose of the trial, and purification its aim.
“I understand,” he said quietly, and the mist in front of him swirled, then coalesced into a mimicry of his own form. Taller and with a cruel twist to the lips, the creature was as Kayil always imagined others saw him – angry and unapproachable. “I am prepared for what must be done.”
“Perhaps you are at that,” the thing said, “perhaps you are ready.”
Without warning it lunged, slamming into Kayil with a force far greater than its insubstantial form implied. With a cry he stepped back, hands going to his chest and hands spread wide, locked in desperate pain.
Struggle raged inside, but so trivial as to be meaningless. Within moments Kayil found his own consciousness repressed and that of his double in control, owning each movement and each look.
“Please,” Kayil whimpered. “Don’t do this.”
A laugh sounded in his skull, far louder than it had been outside.
“You are the one who sought me out, little man. You are the one who believed what others wrote.” There was a pause ripe with satisfaction, a pleasure beyond that of mortal men. “You may well be strong enough to carry my essence beyond this place, and finally find a host more worthy.”
- D
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