Kyra stood unsteadily on the small raft, watching the sluggish, black river pass by below her as she wound her way silently, deeper into the heart of darkness. The creature behind her kept his head down and dragged his pole along the river floor, the gentle splashing the only sound punctuating the thick and gloomy silence. The deeper into Marda she went, the more her sense of unease deepened. She felt as if she were being led in a funeral procession to her death.
The air here was hot and moist, sticking to her like glue, the sky stuck in twilight, the only sound in this land that of distant explosions of volcanoes, of the hissing of the streams of lava that cut through the black mountainside. This land was all shades of black: the black sky, the black waters of the river, the black soil and ash of the countryside, and the two towering black mountains which loomed before her.
Kyra looked up with hesitation as the river carried her between the mountains, feeling claustrophobic. Each rose hundreds of feet high, black as ink, and as she looked closely, she saw thousands of tiny yellow eyes appearing in their crags, tiny creatures watching her as she passed. They looked like a thousand small stars in the night sky. She braced herself, wondering if they would pounce as she went.
Kyra tightened her grip on her staff, wishing she were anywhere but here. She had never felt so alone. She peered into the horizon, wondering where these waters were taking her, and sensing that wherever it was, it was leading her to the Staff of Truth. She felt she was being led to it, and yet she also sensed it was a trap. Yet she had little choice. She had no other beacons in this foreign and hostile land.
Kyra sensed a massive battle coming, a battle of spiritual forces, and she closed her eyes and felt a slight burning in her stomach. She knew that where she was going would test all that she had, all that she was, would force her to face the darkest parts of herself. She would rather battle a thousand men in an open field than grapple in this realm of darkness, a realm she did not entirely understand. It was the realm that held the key to saving Escalon, a realm of spirits, a realm of hidden powers. A realm of shadows.
The river finally led her out to the other side of the mountains, and as it did, the landscape opened up again. Kyra looked out into the countryside and this time spotted thousands of small, black structures, looking like clay cottages, abandoned. This seemed to be one of the cities of the troll nation, all deserted when the trolls fled south, for Escalon. Now Marda sat empty, awaiting their return, if ever. Lucky for her, Kyra realized—or else she would be battling thousands of trolls right now, on her way north.
Kyra studied the city as she passed through it, the endless cottages all the same, the streets of dirt, and she recoiled at what she saw: the black ground was littered with bones. There were bones everywhere, carcasses of rotting animals, all, she realized, the trolls’ victims. It looked as if the trolls ate these creatures and then just left the bones on the ground. She also spotted fresh bodies on spikes, and realized the trolls slowly ate away at them. A savage nation.
Amongst these, Kyra spotted grotesque troll heads on pikes everywhere she looked, and she wondered if these trolls had been killed as a warning, because they had defied some sort of law, or if this was just some sort of sport. She felt sick as she saw some human heads amongst them, too, and wondered if these were the innocent victims kidnapped during their expeditions into Escalon.
The river turned, and Kyra recoiled as she saw an entire field of human bodies, dead, chained to each other. She gasped. Slaves. Poor, innocent humans the trolls had abducted when raiding Escalon, humans who’d had the bad fate to live a horrible, awful life here as slaves of these creatures, before finally meeting a miserable end. Kyra tightened her grip on her staff, determined to avenge them. A part of her wished all the trolls were here now, so she could battle them herself. No, she knew. A much worse battle was awaiting her.
Hearing an explosion on the horizon, Kyra forced herself to look away and instead focused on the huge ball of lava shooting into the air, sending thousands of streaks of bright light into the gloomy landscape. There arose a gentle clacking noise, and she looked down into the waters and was horrified to see they were sailing past bones, all floating downriver, bouncing gently off the raft, first a few, then dozens of them. They were of all shapes and sizes, and she tried not to wonder whose they were, or how they had got here.
Kyra thought of her mother, needing her strength. She pondered her words: You must empty your mind, Kyra. You must unlearn everything you know. What had she meant? It is you, Kyra. It is you who must go there and retrieve the weapon.
Had her mother been right? Did Escalon’s salvation really lie here, in this hell? Had she ever even truly seen her mother? Or had it all been a dream?
Mother, Kyra called out in her mind. Where are you? Are you with me?
Kyra listened, quieting her mind, hoping to hear back. Yet nothing came but silence. It was as if the silence of Marda were too thick to penetrate, as if Kyra had gone too far to the ends of the world for her mother, for anyone, to be with her now.
She tried to focus, to draw strength from herself. What was it that Alva had once said to her? To complete your training, first, you must forego the illusion that others are with you. You are born alone and you will die alone, and what you seek will come not from leaning on others, but on yourself. How deeply have you looked inside, Kyra? How deeply have you trusted yourself?
Here, now utterly alone, Kyra was beginning to sense the truth of his words. And it began to dawn on her that this utter loneliness was what she needed to complete her training. She had been leaning on others for too long; this would force her to lean on herself. This was, she realized, the final leg of her training.
The river turned again, and Kyra’s heart quickened as she watched the landscape change. Replacing the barren fields of dirt and ash, up ahead she saw a forest, a thick and tangled wood, stretching across the horizon as far as the eye could see. She saw huge thorns protruding from them, making the forest resemble one massive thorn bush. As they neared, she saw the trees themselves were sharp, thick, with gnarled, tangled branches, all black, devoid of foliage, devoid of life. At the entrance to this wood stood a narrow opening, a natural arch grown out of the thorns, allowing a single person entry into this foreboding place. And at the foot of this arch, the river came to an end.
Kyra felt her raft suddenly come to a stop, beaching on the shore before the wood. She stepped off, exchanging one foreboding surface for another, and wondering which was worse.
Kyra looked back to thank the person who had brought her—yet as she did, she was shocked to see the raft was already far away, floating downriver—and on it, there was nobody. Her sense of foreboding deepened. What was this land?
Kyra began to walk toward the entrance to the wood, knowing this was where she needed to go, and she had hardly gone a few feet when suddenly, the black soil before her shot up in an explosion.
Kyra recoiled and stepped back, on guard, as there emerged from the very soil itself, a massive, grotesque monster. It grew taller and taller, forming itself out of the ash, taking on the shape of a man, a grotesque man, three times the size of any man she’d known. It was a giant, shoulders three times as broad, with sharp daggers for fingers, claws for toes. He had spikes sticking out of his rib cage, and his head was large and misshapen, with three orange eyes and razor-sharp fangs for teeth.
She glanced down and for the first time noticed a pile of bones at its feet, and she realized: other sojourners. He was the guardian. No one got past him.
The monster reared and roared, its muscles and veins bulging, a roar sharp enough to shake the world. It raised its claws, and suddenly rushed her.
Kyra had to think quick. The beast sliced its claws down for her head, surprisingly fast, and she let her reflexes take over, ducking at the last second. Its claws whooshed by her, just missing, slicing off some of her hair, which fell in locks down into the mud at her feet.
Next, it swung backwards the other way, faster than she could anticipate, and she barely ducked in time, the claws grazing her cheek. She was struck with a sharp pain as the claws scratched her and drew blood. Yet, luckily, the main force of the swing had missed her, and Kyra, regaining herself, raised her staff, swung around, and cracked its wrist.
The beast roared in pain—yet it backhanded her in the same motion, and she went flying, airborne, up twenty feet, landing on her back in the mud.
Kyra, winded, backed up as it bore down on her. Its footsteps shook the earth as it sprinted right for her. She had nowhere to go, she realized in a panic, slipping as she backed up in the mud.
Kyra closed her eyes, sensing death approaching, and focused internally. She could not physically overpower this beast. She needed to summon her power. She needed to transcend the physical world.
Kyra felt a sudden burning in her palms, and feeling her power rising up within, she raised her hands. As the beast neared her, she held them out before her.
Two glowing balls of energy shot forth, smashing the beast in the chest and knocking it on its back.
It roared, and a second later, to her shock, it bounded back onto its feet and charged her again.
Please, God, she thought. Give me the strength to leap over this beast.
Kyra took two steps, running for it, and leapt into the air, praying her powers would not fail her now. If they did, she would die in its awful embrace.
To her immense relief, she found herself leaping up, higher and higher into the air. She leapt over its head, as the beast ran right past her, and landed on the other side of it. As she did, she wheeled and cracked it on the back with her staff.
It stumbled and fell face-first in the mud.
The beast looked back at her, seemingly stunned. Kyra, emboldened, would not give it time to regroup.
She charged forward to finish it off, yet as she did, it surprised her, swinging back around at the last second and knocking her legs out from under her.
As she landed on her back, it spun, made a fist, and raised it high, preparing to smash her into the ground.
Kyra rolled out of the way at the last second, its hammer-fist leaving a huge crater in the earth, just missing her.
She rolled as he hammered again and again, just missing each time, until finally she raised her staff, twisted it, and split it in two, revealing the concealed blades, grabbing one end in each hand. She raised it high, and as the beast struck, she rolled out of the way and plunged the two blades into the beast’s hand, pinning it to the earth.
The beast shrieked, stuck, unable to free itself.
Yet it surprised her by reaching over with its free hand and grabbing her by the throat. It squeezed her neck so fast and so tight, she was certain she would die.
Unable to breathe, Kyra gasped in agony, while the beast swung her left and right, shaking her until she felt sure she was about to die. It then he brought her toward its open mouth, opening it wider and wider as if to bite off her head.
Kyra closed her eyes and forced herself to focus not on what was before her, but on the energy coursing within.
You are stronger than this beast, she willed herself to believe. You are stronger than all forces outside of you. They all inhabit the world of illusion. The only world that is real is that inside of you.
Kyra slowly felt the certainly of her thoughts, felt them morph into beliefs, into what she knew was true. As she did, she felt her palms get burning hot. She opened her eyes and raised her palm and knew without fail that a white orb of light would come shooting forth, would save her.
It did. It flew through the air and smashed the beast in the mouth—and as it did, the beast went flying backwards, releasing its grip, the force so powerful that its other hand, impaled in the ground, came free. It flew a good twenty feet through the air, until finally it crashed onto the ground and lay there, dead.
Kyra, finally free, gasped for air. She saw the creature lying there, and she began to feel a great sense of power. She did have power. She was growing stronger in this place, she could feel it. With no turning back and no one to fall back on, she was learning how to become herself, how to master herself. There was something, too, about the darkness of this place that egged her on. Was she transforming into something else?
Kyra went to the wood before her and stood before the arched entrance. She felt it beckoning her, leading her deeper into darkness. Now she no longer feared it.
Now she craved it.