Chapter 15: • A Fire in the Ruins
It would take some getting used to — this new name. But he reckoned that the more he said it to himself, and to others, the higher chances that it would stick.
Still gazing at the sky, his brown eyes watched as the horizon bled into a deeper shade of crimson, nearing black, and the temperature around him dropped slightly.
Deremiah looked down at the chasm some meters away from him, frowning in deep thought. 'What am I going to do now?' he questioned himself.
Was it wise to wait for another participant to stumble upon this Corridor? Surely, others would be forced to cross this ruin as well. Perhaps they could work together.
Stretching his frown to a full grimace, Deremiah thought against that.
How long was he going to wait? It could take forever for another participant to enter this same Corridor. And even though the Corridor wouldn't implode until he finished the Trial, time wasn't a luxury in the broader scope of things.
Deremiah knew too well that waiting could sometimes mean missing an opportunity. Besides, there was someone he was hoping to catch up to, and he knew they wouldn't still be on the Second Trial.
Arriving at this conclusion, Deremiah stood up, grabbing his sword, and scanning the forest surrounding him with the intent to approach the sickly trees.
Perhaps, if he could fell a few of them, he could fashion a crude bridge across the gap.
He looked down at his sword and nodded. It was also a good chance to inspect just how sharp and functional the corrupted blade really was.
Sighting a particular tree that appeared firm enough, he made it his target and began to approach it. But just as he moved, he heard a sound that whistled from afar.
Deremiah's ears perked when the sound came again. Unmistakably, it was the sound of crackling fire somewhere in the distance.
His movements froze and his grip tightened on the hilt of his sword. Heart quickening, he strained to listen closer, catching the sound of the fire now, even clearer. Alongside the crackling, he heard the faintest noise — a voice.
And then he heard anyone. Then another. There were several voices, muttering, too faint to make out but certainly human. Deremiah's eyes widened. 'What? Are there others here already?'
He hadn't seen anyone when he arrived, but this was a massive ruin, easy to miss them among the wreckage and trees.
Deremiah squinted his eyes, trying to x-ray through the horde of trees and find the source of this noise. But when he couldn't, he stood straight and tentatively accepted that he was going to have to investigate himself.
He crept forward, keeping his movements light, his footfalls as soft as possible. The crimson darkness was almost becoming just darkness now, to see anything was mainly impossible.
Noiselessly, Deremiah navigated past the trees and the debris scattered around. There wasn't a lot of grass on the ground, and the dry land was quiet under the crunch of his under boot.
The closer he got, the louder the noise became — the clearer. Following the noise, he stepped closer and closer, keeping in mind that whatever or whoever was the source of this noise could be dangerous and he would need to defend himself.
After a number of steps, Deremiah heard a louder sound amongst the cacophony of the rest. It was the sound of jovial laughter. His eyes darted toward the source of the noise, weaving through the ruins until he finally spotted a dancing, glowing orange some distance in front of him.
At the foot of a small hill, surrounded by trees and spare grass, there was a fire.
Deremiah's eyes narrowed and he was able to make out some figures seemingly sitting around this fire. He ordered his legs forward and got as close as he could without giving up his presence.
At this point, he could hear their conversations very clearly. They were all talking about their lives back in Imperial. It seemed they were all sons and daughters of powerful Clans back in the Mortal Realm, and they were all familiar with each other. One way or another.
Deremiah's curiosity only increased. He had written the Clans as powerful 'Pillar Families' who have achieved great success in the Gate Trials.
These families gained wealth and influence from the powers granted to them by the Gates, and they trained their predecessors, preparing them ever since childbirth for the Gates, so they too can keep the Clans strong.
One of these Clans was the Dawn Clan that Elora belonged to. They were perhaps the strongest of all Clans, producing some of the greatest Mancers in the entirety of Uxetor.
'Why are they all sitting there? Wouldn't they want to work together and complete this Trial as soon as possible?' Deremiah wondered.
Deciding to get a better look, he moved closer, walking past more trees and elevated rocks, until he was only a few feet away from them, hiding behind a craggy, slim tree.
There were five of them, as he counted. Two girls and three boys. One of the girls had vibrant red hair, and the other had auburn brown.
The boys resembled princes. Two of them were blond, and the other one — who was as round as a ball — also had brown hair. What they all had in common were the expensive and functional armor protecting their bodies.
They were all his age, or thereabouts, but their expressions were relaxed, enjoying their camaraderie. Not just because they were oblivious to his presence, but it seemed like they were unbothered by the fact that they were inside the infamous Gates.
Deremiah's nose caught a scent, and his eyes found a rabbit being skewered over the flames, roasting while the group waited for the meal.
It was then that he realized just how hungry he was. When was the last time he'd eaten?
The scent of the meal began to cause his mouth to watered, and Deremiah didn't know when he took another step forward. This one wasn't so silent.
Consequently, the chubby, round-faced member of the group looked up. Their eyes met.
And then, he gasped.