In A Time Of Darkness

by Gregory James Knoll

  * * * * *

  It was almost like a dream now. When Grahamas entered through the first door and treaded the tunnel, his mind was clear, steps concise. Now, the moment he had passed through the second, he felt as though he was sinking within the ocean—only, he could breath. All else fell from him. His head seemed fogged, pressed upon. His movement uncontrollably slow and lethargic, as though he was fighting his own limbs to work, and he was losing. His feet never settled completely on the ground, only pressed deeper into it, until finally taking another step. His vision murky, his thoughts reacting at a much slower pace than his body, and he truly had no control over the direction he was headed. He would have fought, perhaps struggled more, but with no clear direction on where to travel, he simply let the mist lead him. He only allowed the stasis to over take him—walked through the dream.

  Then, as sudden as Grahamas found himself in it, he was out.

  The mist set him gently on the ground, withdrew its hold on both his body and mind, like fleeting hands that once guided him, they pulled away, spreading out and clearing a path for him once more. Only one thin, sparse layer blocked his way, beyond it the dark silhouette of a man, the outline of broad shoulders and long flowing hair, cascading down along his shoulders. "Vlaros..." Grahamas whispered, easing slightly as he approached.

  "Well, done Champion." The Guide bowed honorably to him, holding the staff he had before. "I must say, I have seen many a trial take place in Sayassa but never one so dangerous. The mist must truly believe in you to test you so." His frame stiffened slightly, his voice losing all evidence of formality held within it previously. “Tell me, though. How were you able to know your mind was being read?”

  Grahamas shook his head, being as honest with his guide as he was with Carsis. “I truly have no idea. It’s as if something whispered to me, though no words were ever spoken. It’s…strange, though I can’t explain it.”

  Vlaros movement revealed that he understood, with a slow acknowledging bow, but when he spoke his voice held restraint, as though keeping a secret. “Indeed. Strange.”

  A thought occurred, momentarily, to the Champion and he raised his hand to guide along the thin layer of mist that separated the two. “Is it? I am safe to assume you had nothing to do with it?” But it wasn’t a decisive statement, rather an inquisitive lure to see if the he would confess something.

  “I assure you,” he began, his voice regaining its stoic composure “I did not. Sayassa prevents any of the guides from providing assistance. It would take something far more powerful than a spirit to do so.” But before Grahamas could begin to discern exactly what may have, the guide abruptly changed the subject. “Perhaps just a minor shift in this world. Even here, phenomena occur. I would not focus on it too long. One more test still lays before you. Though it be your final test it as well is the hardest. The test of faith."

  The Champion walked out, and the last of the mist faded completely to reveal Vlaros standing upon a trail, much like the one found in his previous journey. The guide situated under a stone archway, pillars on the left and right of him, ones with a thick square base and circular beams with carved indentations and inadvertent cracks. All which lead up to a half-circular canopy with a smooth face. Vines and ivy crept their way up from the ground to meet in the middle, covering a good part of the tarnished marble the arch was made from. Though they grew across a majority of the sloping top, Grahamas could still make out what was on the front. Symbols that he knew, a language of the old Kingdom that only he, Ristalln and Elryia could read. There, written in Highlyian, were the words "Believe In Yourself." Grahamas was positioned now only feet from the other. He read the words a second, then third time before gazing upon Vlaros. "What can you tell me of this?"

  "Very little." Vlaros responded. "I apologize but what you're about to encounter is beyond your skill as a swordsman, or your intellect. It is meant to simply test you—as a person. How much you're prepared to take and how far you are willing to go for what you believe in. I can give no clues in how to do that. You must find the answers for yourself."

  The Champion looked up towards the arch one last time, took in the words then allowed his feet to bring him forward. "Then I will begin my search for them."

  "Grahamas." Vlaros said, drawing his attention back. "I can tell you one thing. No matter what you think, or what you imagine you will endure, you must continue forward. You must not renege for anything, and do not leave until you have taken what you've come here for."

  "Fate?" And Vlaros nodded. "I have to find it first."

  "Find?" Vlaros turned, first his head then his entire body. Behind him a massive structure far off in the distance. It was higher than any mountain—even Forgas—but it was man made. Its four sides were noticeably smooth, even from this distance, the side that faced the trail had a staircase built all the way to the top, golden fires ignited in cauldrons on either side of it. "Fate is right before you, waiting patiently at the top."