"The gift of magic, miraculous and mercurial, is regardless restrained by the laws of physics and logic; every action triggers a reaction, and every withdrawal demands a price."
- On Order and Chaos, Book II, Chapter 10
*****
Hiss.
Torna's eyes flicked up, snapping out of his mindless trance and shaking his head to clear his thoughts as the 'loop' - the colloquial name for the tunnel system providing transport to every nook and cranny of Avuna - slid smoothly to a halt with a soft hiss.
Strips of electric-blue light pulsed softly along the ceiling, and dimmed slightly as a sleek rectangle formed itself in the wall next to Torna, blank of seating, providing a comfortably-sized exit just for him.
Often, the loop would be packed to the brim with the same gangs of delirious partygoers, headed around 'Old Town' to the eternally raging revelries taking place, soulless workers, and insular schoolchildren, the air heavy with the scent of sweat and alcohol despite the best efforts of the filtration systems.
But at the beginning of the day, where the partygoers were still deep in intoxicated slumber, the workers and children were still shaking the sleep from their tired eyes, Torna fortunately had a whole carriage to himself, the air cool and refreshing, and the world blissfully silent for just a brief moment.
Unfortunately, time for peace and rest would have to wait for Torna.
Sighing in regret, he rose from a plush green seat, wincing as his knees popped quietly, and strode towards the 'door'.
Just as he was about to step completely through, he froze, and gazed back almost longingly at the emptiness of the public section of the loop, and the simple, minimalist beauty of the technology.
'I'm finally leaving this mundane life behind...so why do I feel such pain? It's just a seat...I'll be back soon...'
Torna's lower lip trembled suddenly, and he blinked in surprise as his eyes became moist, and his heart fluttered anxiously.
'I'm scared...of dying? Of losing this peacefullife...?' he thought sadly, and tenderly gazed back at the comfy seat, in which he had recently sat in, slouched, and ungrateful. Torna shook his head slightly in reproach, and turned away from the carriage, stepping out decisively.
'If I ever want to go back...I will have to leave something behind. Something important...yes. This is nothing.'
He didn't look back as the 'door' sealed shut, completely swallowing the memory of peace, and the warmth of familiarity, and stared determinedly ahead, striding into a blank grey tunnel, which opened smoothly to form another 'door', this time filled with ethereal scarlet light.
[Identification required.]
A tinny, robotic voice buzzed out of thin air, directly into Torna's ear, startling him slightly, and he narrowed his eyes in annoyance.
'Rude...' he thought, and inserted his left thumb into the door of red light. He flinched briefly as a small needle of light pierced the soft skin, blood welling up from the cut, and evaporating into the 'door'. After a few seconds, the door of light disappeared, and the tinny voice buzzed again.
[Candidate: Torna Avidair. Access granted.]
Feeling a premonition, Torna flicked his gaze to the ground, a look of puzzlement clearly visible on his youthful face. Suddenly, a circle of blue light knit itself into existence beneath his feet, complex runes flowing rigidly along the floor. A feeling of mystery emanated from the gathering of magic, briefly shrouding Torna's mind in a thick fog.
"Array?" he muttered, frowning slightly in confusion, but before he could gather his thoughts, the circle began to spin, the blue light intensifying rapidly before flashing with incandescent radiance.
And in an instant, when the light died down, Torna was gone, dispersed into motes of dissipating magic.
*****
[Transfer successful!]
[Welcome, Torna!]
"Ugh..." the boy groaned, blinking heavily, his vision blurry and unfocused. The taste of iron lingered in his mouth, and his throat felt dry and scratchy.
Gazing below him, he saw his glasses, discarded next to him, and as he went to pick them up, the fog finally faded from his mind, and sharp clarity came rushing back in an instant.
"Gah!" he shouted, leaping up and clumsily shoving the cheap spectacles onto his face, skin crawling and heart thumping, deeply unnerved by his surroundings.
Around Torna, there was simply nothing.
Endless black; a sea of infinite darkness extending in all directions. His feet were planted on nothing, and his magical intuition showed no inclination to his location.
"So this is the Inbetween..." Torna muttered curiously, trying his best to calm his ragged nerves, "how unsettling!"
Remembering the reason for his nervousness, he shook his head wildly, clearing his mind of distraction, and exhaled deeply, closing his eyes briefly, and then slowly reopening them.
Thinking back to one of the pages in his ancient book, Torna stretched out his right arm, fingers splayed, and curled his hand into a claw, twisting it anticlockwise robotically, as if rusty and resistant to motion. His other hand was placed over his heart, the flattened palm pressed gently against his sternum.
Beginning the channelling of his magic, Torna recalled the chant for the summoning spell, and gathered his power meticulously at his fingertips.
"Ab'ranh. Blood price, bloodhound, bloodthirst." he intoned solemnly, his voice steady and confident, brimming with mystical power.
As the words of the ancient tongue flowed from his lips, there was a distant sound, faint and uncertain, like shattering glass, and Torna felt a bone-chilling hum resound through his body. Scarlet light gathered from thin air, forming tendrils from raw magic, which curled and contorted in a disturbing dance. His intuition sparked, and his heart fluttered nervously as an unfathomable presence drew near, invisible and mighty, and then it was gone, and a deep crimson door, ornate and intricately carved was formed before his eyes.
"I hope my trial environment is forgiving..." Torna smiled optimistically, his heart now fluttering in anticipation, and he stretched his hand out eagerly to open the door.
As soon as his fingers brushed the silver doorknob, a rumble sounded from behind the door, and the door abruptly swung open with a blast of scorching air.
Within the door, the image of an immense desert was visible, the sun blazing on the horizon. It was twilight, and yet the sky remained a light blue, devoid of clouds, yet plagued by the searing winds.
Torna's jaw dropped incredulously, and a sense of deep injustice wriggled in his mind.
'Desert...it's...a desert?!' he thought madly, speechless in his disbelief. Shaking his head disdainfully, Torna quashed his exasperation and despair, forcing his mind into a state of crystal clarity, concentrating deeply in preparation for the trial. The irritating tinny voice buzzed in his ears yet again, and Torna rolled his eyes with a suppressed groan.
[Trial: 'Chain of Fire'.]
[Location: Flame-Tongued Sand Plains]
[Time: 120 hours.]
[Forfeit: Death]
"Flame-Tongued Sand Plains? Luckily, there don't seem to be any especially dangerous magical creatures living in this area, according to what the Book says...but only because of the terrible heat! And I'm here for 5 days!" Torna muttered tersely, gritting his teeth in annoyance. With every passing second, he was more sorely missing the quietude of the loop carriage, and of mystical studies in his apartment block, and the cool air of the tunnels.
The heat of the wind was already enough to make him sweat profusely through his thick black jumper!
Promptly shrugging it off, and tying it over his head like a turban, Torna muttered a few words in the ancient tongue, forming a circle with his thumb and ring finger and passing it in a figure of eight over himself. Immediately, he felt some relief from the heat.
[Cantrip 'Moderation' has been cast.]
Inhaling deeply, the warmth of the wind soothing his sore throat, and settling his turbulent mind, Torna steeled himself, and stepped confidently through the door.
'Just endure...after less than a week, you'll become awakened! One step closer...' Torna thought optimistically, a small smile flickering across his face, before the tinny voice sounded again, chirping in his air like a cricket.
[Adversary: 'Iron Soul' (static)]
['Chain of Fire' has begun!]
[Good fortune, contestants!]
Torna's face froze, and his eye twitched as he stopped midway through the gateway.
'I'm competing against 'Iron Soul'...!' he screamed internally, before his mind immediately went hazy.
As Torna's foot sunk into the golden sands, the crimson door swinging shut and breaking apart into dissipating fragments of red light, a wall of incredible heat slammed into him, almost knocking him out.
Reeling and delirious, Torna blinked madly, barely remaining conscious, and staggered back into a standing position.
"Hot...unfathomably...hot..." he panted breathlessly, his teeth tightly gritted.
'This...could be a problem...'
*****
Across the desert, almost impossibly far away, through the sands, a woman, clad from head to toe in sleek steel armour, stood still, staring directly at Torna. He was completely out of sight, hidden behind the curvature of the moon housing the desert, and yet her unforgiving gaze sought him out. Tilting her head, her helmet slid away, revealing a pretty face, blue-eyed and nobly proportioned, brown hair wrapped in a slick bun. Her expression was cold and emotionless, almost arrogant in its indifference, and her eyes flashed even in the blazing twilight with ethereal light.
Waving a hand, a thin blade shot out of her gauntleted hands, carved intricately with countless interlocking runes, each exuding an aura of heat even exceeding the desert's own.
[Array activated: 'Firebird', 'Steelskinned', 'Eye of Truth', 'Marionette'.]
[Targeting...]
"Weak," she uttered, her expression unchanging, like an eerie mask, and as her helmet slid smoothly back over her head, concealing her features once more, 'Iron Soul' began to walk slowly in Torna's direction.
In her mind, the darkly shadowed figure of an old man was hunched in a corner, lips curling up into a cruel grin.
"Do not disappoint us, Jessica."
Iron Soul, or Jessica, nodded mechanically, raising her blade to the sky, and she poured a large portion of her magic into it directly, preparing to cast a massive spell.
"I will not, Elder," she intoned slickly, orange light curling around the thin metal blade extending from her writs, curling through the etched runes, heightening the heat around her body.
"Bas'thrikh'lantosh. One shot, one life; stilling time."
*****
Far away, Torna's head jerked to the left, and his face scrunched up in a deep frown, hairs raising over his whole body.
'Dangerous...'