I stepped out of the cabin into the cool breeze of dawn, feeling hopeful. Alive and ready for what the day would bring. The intimacy of the desert before the creatures awoke matched the calm I felt inside.

  In a few hours, the heat would be unbearable, but for now, you could stand there and breathe in the fragrance of the desert. The mineral tang of warm rocks mixed with the scent of underbrush made you feel like you were becoming part of this world.

  When I first entered the Harshlands, no lie, I thought it would be difficult to adjust. That the monsters would be too tough to fight. That the terrain would be too dry and brittle for anyone to get used to.

  The longer I stayed, the more I felt the opposite, except for the monsters, of course. But I was having a blast roaming the dunes with Nefa and Sparks. Leveling up, getting stronger, getting closer to my new guide.

  Trying new things. Finding new strategies to take down enemies. Earning victories that hardened you, made you a little more savage and cold-hearted, yet you still bled when cut and laughed when crying felt easier.

  I was becoming a new person on this journey to the trials, and when I got back to tell Cashius everything I’d experienced, I hoped he wouldn’t call me a bonehead but instead give me the respect I’d earned.

  As we prepared that morning, neither Nefa nor I spoke of what had happened between us. Only the way her eyes would linger a moment too long when she glanced at me. Sparks watched us with narrowed eyes, but we gave nothing away, neither through our body language nor through our words.

  By the time we finished a light breakfast, Nefa’s gaze had steadied, and she had slipped back into her usual guarded self. I did the same, settling once more into my role, the rookie adventurer trudging across an endless sea of purple sand, caught between vicious monsters and a merciless landscape determined to break me and my two companions.

  Nefa led me through the dunes, around giant mountains of sand, where we fought Guttergrowls and Stone Sentinels. More sand imps appeared as well. Those were harder to kill and frustratingly unpredictable, but manageable.

  I had switched our clothes back to desert garb, and at that moment, I was testing my new ability, Commando Slice, on a Stone Sentinel.

  It emerged from the sand, firing red beams of light out to freeze us in our tracks.

  Nefa darted around the giant, leaping over its head and distracting it, while I worked my way toward its body to land a clean hit.

  Dipping under its massive swipes, I pivoted and swung Havoc Maker with everything I had, eager to test the new ability.

  This time, as the blade carved through the air toward the stone beast, the serrated edge didn’t bounce off. Instead, it vibrated, shuddering with power, and cut clean through its abdomen.

  One slice. One kill.

  Seconds later, the upper half of the creature collapsed into the sand as its orbs and gold rolled toward me.

  Sparks cheered me on, while Nefa planted her scythe in the sand and leaned on it with a smirk. “Killed before I could land a strike? Impressive.”

  I shrugged and pressed on toward our destination, battling when we had to or avoiding fights when the outcome wasn’t worth it. Every hundred yards or so, I had to shake sand out of my shoes, making sure the sharp grains didn’t scrape my skin.

  Nefa would call me soft and laugh each time, but I didn’t care. Walking through sand wasn’t as easy as she claimed.

  By afternoon, Nefa alerted me that we would be approaching Fort Laishava soon. The lauded Covenant of Blades. The place where I would undergo a sacred ritual and gain my own protection from the snake Linuux, along with the right to continue my journey to find him.

  Hearing this, I opened my inventory, passed her a stick of jerked meat, and we shared water from one of the skins. The sand worm meat was tough but flavorful, and the water was cool.

  Between sips, I would look at her face as she chewed the strips, wondering about last night. Her eyes would fix on something in the distance until she’d turn, give me a half-smile, then go right back to chewing.

  Those glances were everything to me. Partly because they told me that what happened between us last night was real, not some figment of my imagination.

  After the food was gone, I wiped my mouth and kept trudging through the unrelenting desert heat, anxious to see the fort and what it had to offer.

  We summoned our mounts, riding the rest of the way, and before long, Fort Laishava came into view. An old, decrepit city wedged between two stone fissures. Along the outer edge sat massive stone buildings, their hollow windows staring down like vacant eyes. Chipped boulders littered the walkways, and scorpion-like creatures crawled over the broken slabs as if they owned the place.

  The city, clearly abandoned, had seen better days. Its structures, now empty and silent, had once been filled with life. Now, the only thinking beings there were the three of us.

  Within the city, a mood descended on us. Something so profound that it caused my hair to lift. Nefa said the hallowed buildings offered protection from Linuux. Ancient power that the city granted to all who entered.

  When I asked her how, she explained.

  “A powerful spell the king performed seconds before Linuux killed most of my ancestors,” she said. “It keeps all out of Laishava, even its descendants, until the scourge is defeated. After he is gone, we may return. Part of the ritual you will complete will grant you some of the power the king left here. With it, you will be able to withstand Linuux’s mind attacks and share that protection with others.”

  I lifted my head at her words and took note.

  After dismissing our animals, we continued on foot, walking past ancient white bones jutting through the sand, making the place feel even more haunting.

  I carried Havoc Maker across my back and the chained weapon Black Tusk at my waist, scanning my surroundings with each step. If this was the site of the trial, I wondered what it would be, because so far all I could see was decay.

  My fingers brushed the coiled chain of Black Tusk, my mind a tangled puzzle as we passed more crumbling buildings and stopped before a massive structure. Square in shape, it had no windows, only narrow vents at the top that served as its lone breath of air.

  I glanced at Nefa. “What is all this? The map says there are no enemies here, but my instincts tell me to be ready for a fight.”

  “There will be fights,” she said, her eyes locked on mine. “Some will test your strength. Others will stretch your mind until it breaks and you beg for release.” Her voice dipped, steady and cold. “Inside this building, you must face two trials, both nearly impossible to pass. You will be given no support. No items or weapons, except those you find inside. Stripped of everything, you must survive and glean what you can from the visions. Until then, we prepare.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  Cashius had told me they made him strip naked when he took the trial. Maybe they would do the same to me. Maybe not. Who knew?

  Nefa walked up to the two massive rusted doors, huge slabs etched with gothic script running down their length, each symbol humming with old power.

  She placed a hand against them, leaned in, and whispered a prayer. Then she waited.

  For a moment, nothing happened.

  Then light gathered around her outline, tracing her shape in a flickering glow before the doors groaned and creaked open, revealing a darkened chamber beyond.

  She glanced back over her shoulder. “Follow me,” she said.

  Sparks paused her orbit around me, scanned the perimeter, then returned to her usual position, her eyes scanning for any danger I might not have noticed.

  The room was dusty, with chairs lined against the walls and a desk off to the left, the wood barely holding together. In the weak light shining through the doorway, I could make out old sheets of paper and scattered writing instruments, all far too brittle to be of any use. I grabbed at a piece. It disintegrated in my fingers.

  Dusting off her hands, Nefa led me into a larger chamber. This one was lit somehow, and beneath my feet I felt a steady hum. The vibration of something powerful hidden deep within, grinding with an intensity that I could feel through the soles of my feet.

  When I asked how that was possible, she turned her head.

  “There are mysteries here the Flish’ar haven’t unraveled. But make no mistake,” she said, looking around, “the things you’ll see will change you and give you an understanding of my people.”

  She pressed on, and I followed, continuing to feel the majesty of the place, all the while wondering what had happened there all those years ago.

  The walls were caked with grime, yet the floor was clean, polished in a way that felt impossible in a place like that. The strange contrast left me speechless.

  When we reached the center of the room, Nefa lowered herself to the ground, sitting cross-legged, and gestured for me to join her.

  “Here, you must pray to whatever gods you worship. Ask for the strength to continue to sustain you. After that, I will strip you of all items and mark your flesh with the sacred symbols of our ancestors. When the sun begins to descend, the pathway will open.”

  I glanced back toward the doors. Sunlight still poured through them, bright and calm, almost mocking my growing apprehension.

  Nefa’s voice carried across the empty room. “Oh, and forgive me, Sparks, but you will not be able to go with Lamont on this part of the journey.”

  It was the first time I’d heard her call Sparks by name. The word rolled off her tongue with a respect that echoed in the vast silence.

  Nefa’s eyes flickered like dancing embers, drawing me closer than our kiss the night before ever had. For a heartbeat, it felt as though we were one, two vessels peering into the same soul.

  “Nefa…” My voice dropped, heavy with the weight of the moment. “I want to thank you for accompanying me, for everything, really. Now I understand what you and your people mean when you say ‘respect is shared,’ and why it matters so much. Maybe after this trial, I’ll understand it even deeper.”

  She stiffened, her gaze sharpening. “Lamont, when you finish this trial, you won’t just understand. You will be part of my tribe. Not in word, but in flesh.” Her lips curved into a faint smile. “I’ll give you a few minutes to offer your supplications. Then we begin.”

  I closed my eyes and prayed. Each time I thought I was finished, another line came, sharper than the last, deeper, more necessary.

  I prayed for strength. For Cashius, Sparks, and Nefa. For the Flish’ar and for those of their people trapped under the merciless grip of Linuux.

  I prayed for my mom and my sister, Stacey. For my dad, whose spirit felt close even in that distant world. I prayed for the universe and everything it contained, and even for whatever lay beyond it.

  When I opened my eyes, the room had fallen into near darkness. My guide watched me in silence, patient and unreadable.

  Nefa rose and extended her hand, the fabric of her clothes blowing gently in the stale air.

  “Now,” she whispered, the word heavy with promise. “We begin.”

  A jolt of energy passed over me, and in an instant, my inventory was forcibly emptied, everything I carried spilling to the floor in a heap.

  The bow. The boomerang. Spare clothes. Daggers. Chains and bracelets. And Havoc Maker.

  The sight overwhelmed me.

  I looked down. All that remained on me were my underwear and the new muscles the game had carved into my body. Standing there made me feel small. Exposed.

  Without the enhancements from my gear, everything felt off, like I was less than before. Not as sharp. Dull, even.

  Havoc Maker, being a rare item, gave me Strength whether I had it equipped or not, and it leveled up with me. Without it in my inventory, my muscles already felt smaller. The Perception boost had sharpened my awareness, and now that edge was gone.

  My stats were still decent, don’t get me wrong, but I was definitely worse off without the gear.

  When my eyes found Nefa’s, every feeling we had shared came rushing back. The weapons at my feet meant nothing compared to what I saw reflected in her face.

  That look filled me with something greater than protection or armor.

  It filled me with purpose.

  Then she produced sticks of black and purple chalk and began to draw across my skin with hard, precise movements.

  A line here.

  A circle there.

  Each stroke placed with the skill of an artist.

  “These symbols are more for you than anything else,” she said. “Old art from long ago, still remembered today. When I performed the ritual, they made me feel part of something ancient and enduring. I hope they make you feel the same.”

  When she finished, I glanced down at myself, amazed at what I saw.

  My body no longer felt like flesh and bone. It had become a doorway, etched with symbols of the ethereal. The tribe was not only a part of me, but the art seemed to tingle beneath my skin.

  I studied the markings as shadows leapt across them. Then a deep rumbling surged, shaking the very foundation.

  Grinding gears broke the silence, lifting dust that floated through the air like shattered dreams.

  Sparks hovered near, her face sharpened by seriousness, her hands clutched together in uncertainty.

  I turned.

  An opening tore itself into being, the rip making my flesh prickle. The air pouring from it carried life. The heat of the desert. The promise of something vast.

  Before me, a jagged outline glowed in blue light, a portal of impossible, mystical energy. Beating like a heartbeat. Radiant as the sun.

  Then came the flash.

  I shielded my eyes. When the warmth faded, I lowered my hands slowly, unsure of what might be waiting.

  What I saw was startling.

  An image of the same room, but brighter, alive with people going about their business. They talked, grinned, laughed, enjoying the day.

  I circled the opening and saw only a thin glowing line. But when I returned to the front, the scene returned.

  Perplexed, I extended my arm into the portal slowly, feeling static ripple down my skin.

  “What is going on? Is this real?”

  Nefa cleared her throat. “What you are looking at is five hundred years in the past. A time before we were purged from the land. The night Linuux descended on this very fort and changed everything.”

  I pulled my arm back and listened.

  “You are to go there and alert the chief of Linuux’s presence within sixty minutes. Once the task is complete, you will return and face the next trial,” she explained. “Do not think it will be easy. The men guarding the king are skilled assassins, and the king is quite stubborn. Falter once, and the trial ends.”

  A familiar chime rang out.

  I narrowed my eyes to read the banner scrolling across my display. Clicking it, I read silently as everything around me froze.

  -The Flish’ar’s Trial of the Newcomer-

  This trial will cast the champion into the past on the day of Linuux’s arrival. With no weapons at your disposal, you must reach an unknowing king and deliver the warning. Steal clothes or go in your undergarments, it makes no difference.

  Your actions cannot alter the past, but witnessing the history of the Flish’ar and alerting the king is what matters.

  Seeing this and hearing the king’s spell will grant you immunity from Linuux.

  Survive, and you will return here to face the next trial. Fail to deliver the message or die in the attempt, and you will be forced to face Linuux alone.

  Accept or Decline?

  I pressed Accept, and the world roared back to life.

  Sparks sent me a pulse of caution, followed by one of safety. The emotions layered into a simple message. Take care.

  Before I could smile, she clamped her hands around my neck and squeezed with all her might.

  I coughed and grabbed at my throat. “Sparks. It’ll be alright, I promise,” I chuckled.

  Nefa stepped forward, opened her mouth, then faltered into silence. When no words came, she seized my hands and pulled me close.

  “Please be careful. Don’t rush off and get yourself killed,” she warned. “You are too important to me, and to my tribe. Respect is given.”

  Then she embraced me and pressed her lips to mine. The kiss was gentle and filled with hope.

  Afterward, she looked into my eyes, and for a moment, I knew she cared for me deeply. Then she regained her composure.

  “Well,” I said, turning toward the portal. “Time to travel five hundred years into the past and deliver the news of Linuux to the king. Be back soon.”

  The air from the portal brushed cool against my skin, lighter than the desert climate. Almost pure.

  Glancing back one last time, I stepped through into the past.