The Ordeal

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. The few windows that opened to the outside of the village had long ago been blacked out—the paint secured with magic when such fanciful things still existed in the world. Somehow, through all odds, a small hole had been etched in the paint, a tiny glimpse into the world beyond the village walls. It was gray, desolate and windswept. Scraggly ironbrush dotted the landscape as far as the eye could see, their thorns glinting in the watery light. Jutting out of the hazy horizon was the Alchemist’s Tower, a spire of gray rock eroded by wind and rain, tall enough to glimpse over the wall.

Turning her back to the window, she studied her best friend, his hazel eyes amber in the candlelight. He had taken the day off from working the mine to spend it with her—the last day before her Ordeal would begin.

“I have to show you something, Lux,” he said. Pulling a bundle of oiled leather from under his mattress, he unfurled it, revealing a small crystal vial of violet liquid and a crumpled, dirty note. He offered it to her, meeting her pale blue eyes.

She frowned, taking the items, and unfolding the note. It was scribbled and smeared, but still obviously his handwriting. The note said, “For Lux’s Ordeal, take no more than one hour before the ceremony. For the wellbeing of all.”

“Emmett—” she didn’t know what to say, didn’t understand, “what is this?”

He picked at a scab on his knuckle. “That’s just the thing… I don’t know.” The candlelight reflected off his unruly black hair, his eyes still on his hands. “I can tell I wrote it, but I have no memory of it. I found it in my bag when I returned from my Ordeal. I don’t know what happened out there or how I came by that vial. I don’t even know what it is or what it’ll do. But I do know I would never hurt you… I—I think it must be safe, but I don’t know.”

She held the vial up—it glistened in the flickering light sending a rainbow sprawling across the craggy wall.

“It’s the same color as the crystal.”

“The one the Elders had you retrieve?” she asked. Emmett could only remember one thing from his Ordeal, a purple crystal scavenged from gods only knew where beyond the wall. He had been sworn to silence by the Elders, but Emmett had never kept secrets from her… never—until now. “You’ve had this for an entire solar cycle? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Pain rippled across his face, the silver scar on his chin catching the light—another souvenir from his Ordeal, and another mystery. “I wanted to tell you,” he said. “But I didn’t—don’t understand it. I was hoping I would remember why it was so important.” He shook his head, brows knitting together. “I didn’t want to ask you to do something without knowing why… but we’re out of time and I still don’t remember anything.”

She chewed her chapped lip as she studied the vial. Surely something so beautiful couldn’t be that harmful… right? Making up her mind, she turned her attention back to Emmet. He was normally her rock, so big and strong, but right now, he looked small, hunched over, and turned in on himself. There was fear in his eyes, the same fear she felt for him before his Ordeal—not everyone comes back, the outside world is wild and harsh, wrought with peril. And now there was a new layer being added to her Ordeal with this potion. Would it help her or hurt her? She knew he would never willingly hurt her, but who knew what had happened during that week he couldn’t remember. With a shake of her head, she released the doubt and chose to trust him completely. “I’ll take the potion.”

#

The sun was just cresting the horizon, turning the world from black to shades of gray. Mist rolled through the village with the same heaviness Lux felt. Her Ordeal would begin before the sun crested the eastern wall. She had never been outside, but she had heard horror stories. The world was decimated in a magical war two centuries ago, descendants of the Elders had managed to cast a protection spell around this place, keeping them safe. Humans had not survived the war and the few creatures that had eked out an existence in the ruins of the world were cruel, twisted abominations of what they once were—vicious monsters of claw, fang, and shadow.

For fifty solar cycles, the village was safe inside the walls… and then the magic began to fail. That was when The Ordeal was enacted, a right of passage to ensure the village’s protection for generations to come. The day before each citizen’s eighteenth birthday, they were sent outside the wall with a pack of supplies, an artifact to find, and instructions to return within one week with the item or succumb to the deadly environment. These artifacts were things the Elders could use to bolster the protection spell, like the crystal Emmett had retrieved. The week timeframe was due to the poisonous magical fallout from the war, their fragile bodies couldn’t withstand more than that—for their entire lives.

Lux made her way to the small stage in the village square and was lead into the backroom by Elder Deevitha. She tried to peer into the crone’s cowl but was immediately greeted with a headache. It had always been that way; Lux could never get a decent look at the Elders' faces. With a shudder, she sank into a nearby chair to wait. The Elders gave her the creeps, her headaches were likely her own fear manifested.

Elder Deevitha excused herself to join the other nine Elders on stage. Through the open door, Lux could hear the gathering crowd. There were around twenty Ordeals per solar cycle and each one was celebrated. Most were clustered during the planting and harvesting moons, a more hospitable season for births. Not for the first time, Lux begrudged her mother for giving birth to her in the middle of the hard times, a series of three moons consisting of the coldest, harshest weather of the solar cycle. Her Ordeal would be far more brutal than most purely based on the weather conditions.

A loud clanging sounded above her, the announcement bells. They usually tolled the hour, but until she returned from her Ordeal, they would remain silent. If she never returned, they would sound her death knell.

Gritting her teeth, she pulled the purple potion from her pocket and popped out the cork. She sent a silent prayer to whatever god would listen and downed the liquid. It was effervescent and tasted of violets and sunshine, or what she dreamed those things might taste like. The potion spread through her body, leaving a warm tingle in its wake.

Her name was announced, and she rose to take her place amidst the Elders. They spoke of the honor and privilege of the Ordeal, things she had heard hundreds of times before. Eventually Elder Neven handed her a satchel filled with tools and provisions for the week and an opaque gray potion.

“This potion will shield you from the worst of the malignance of the outside world, but only for one week’s time. Return to our gate before dusk on the seventh day or be lost to the dangers of this cruel world,” said Elder Neven, magnanimously.

As Lux took the vial from him, her eyes glided into the dark depths of his cowl. She braced for the headache, but it didn’t come. Instead, her eyes adjusted, and Elder Neven’s face materialized for the first time. Adrenaline thrummed through her body; instead of the ancient, wrinkled face, she saw the face of a middle-aged man with coal black eyes.

Grabbing the items from him, she clutched them to her chest and stumbled back a step. The new position shifted her sight line, obscuring the Elder’s face. She must not have seen him correctly, an illusion brought on by anxiety and poor lighting.

Shaking off the odd experience, she uncapped the potion and slugged it back as instructed. The viscous liquid coated her tongue, its bitter bite settling into her mouth, her throat, her stomach. Cold flames radiating into her limbs—and then it extinguished, suddenly, like no potion had been consumed at all. In its wake, the warm fizz of the violet potion reemerged.

Hurriedly, she scanned the crowd, spotting Emmett off to the side. She met his eyes, widening hers ever so slightly. He had always been good at reading her, she hoped now would be no exception. She tried to convey everything in one look: his potion had done something.

He gave her a slight nod—understanding. He fisted his hand over his heart. It was her turn to nod back: stay strong.

Then she was being ushered off the stage and through the crowd. People were placing their hands on her, beseeching blessings from the gods. All too quickly she was standing before the heavy steel gates. With a waive from Elder Emrys, the bars were lifted, and the gates creaked open. A gray waste lay before her. Firm hands guided Lux forward and with a loud clang, the gate closed behind her.

#

Frigid wind tore at her face whipping around her ash-brown hair. She tried to swallow but found it difficult. The wall was safety and now she was beyond it, alone in a land that wanted to kill her. From the front pocket of her satchel, she extracted a letter—instructions for her Ordeal. She cracked the seal and read:

“Luxanna,

Congratulations! As you know, the village is relying on you to bring back an artifact to bolster the protection magic, but first you have a journey to make. It is imperative you reach the top of Alchemist’s Tower before midnight. At that point you may access the main pocket of the satchel, another letter will further instruct you and answer your questions. Until then, you have access to the front pocket of the satchel, only.

Blessed Ordeal,

The Elders of Paskaimas, the last village”

As she finished reading, the letter crumbled and flaked away into the wind. No one ever remembered their time outside the gate, she supposed it made sense all evidence would vanish, too. Fishing in the front pocket revealed a slender dagger and thigh sheath, a fire starter, and a pouch of food. That was at least something.

Once the dagger was properly secured and the pouch returned to the satchel, she began her trek. The wind whipped furiously, howling like creatures better left to the gloom. She pulled her cloak tighter around her, grateful for the fur lined clothing she had been gifted—an early birthday present from her family and Emmett.

On and on she walked, the Alchemist’s Tower looming on the horizon. Lux studied the sun, faintly visible through the miasmic clouds, estimating it at one notch from zenith. With the weather as it was, she figured she had about five hours of light and eight hours of dark before her deadline. She sent a string of curses into the wind, wishing once more she had been born during a planting moon.

The hours and miles slid by. All too soon, the sun kissed the distant horizon. The haze and mist obscured the sunset, the light filtering through in hues of grey—and purple? Lux blinked. There was purple, the color of Emmett’s potion. She admired the color glinting from a sea of grey and then jumped back into motion, she didn’t have time to waste… dark was upon her now.

She ran across the barren terrain, taking advantage of the last lingering scraps of light. The base of the Alchemist’s Tower was within view, as was the narrow, spiraling path. Behind her, the full moon crested the horizon. At least one thing had been on her side, the full moon’s light would guide her through the dark.

At the base of the monolith, Lux searched for a branch to use as a torch. Using the thorns of the ironbrush, she attached clumps of dried plant matter. When it had a dense coating, she laid it on the ground and began scraping sparks onto it with the fire starter.

The wind howled and she adjusted her body to block it from extinguishing the sparks. The howling grew louder and then it slid outside the wind, sending a chill down her spine. She craned her head over her shoulder, searching the darkness.

Within the inky gloom, something darker emerged—ethereal, the moonlight glinting off its knife-like fangs.

Lux’s heart hammered in her chest. She scraped her knife over the fire starter, frantically, sparks flying but not catching. Again, and again. The creature gusted towards her on silent paws. Details materialized as it neared—a wraith like wolf with dead gray eyes.

Another scrape of her knife and the spark caught, roaring to life in a halo of golden light. She flung it between her and the shadow wolf as it prepared to lunge. The light illuminating the creature, the shadows rippling off it vanished, diminishing its size. The wolf veered and dodged the light, darting back to the shadows.

It was no longer moving with the wind, pacing just beyond the reach of Lux’s torch. Her hand was shaking, scattering bits of flaming debris. She took a tentative step backwards, another. The creature inched forward as she moved.

Glancing behind her, Lux spotted the narrow ledge spiraling up Alchemist’s Tower. She prayed it was too shallow for the wolf to climb. Before she could let herself think, she turned and sprinted to the path. She scrambled up it, clinging to the rock wall. The wolf paced and snarled at the base of the pillar, unable to follow her. Lux choked out a breath, wheezing, her hand pressing into her chest as she tried to normalize her breathing. “Oh gods, oh gods,” she whispered, tears streaming out of her eyes.

After the wolf, climbing up the tall rock tower was easy, though she doubted she would agree if she could see how far away the ground was.

Lux made it to the top a few hours before midnight, legs trembling, stomach growling. There were remnants of previous fires nestled next to a scraggly rock wall: the site where countless others had stayed the first night of their Ordeal. Wasting no time, she collected some pathetic looking bushes and lit them with the dying embers of her torch. She dumped the rest of her food into her mouth and curled up against the rock wall, using her satchel as a pillow. Within seconds she was asleep.

#

The fire snapped and raged. Lux shot upright dazedly looking around. It took her a second to remember where she was. The moon hung directly overhead—midnight. It was her birthday.

Hands shaking, she pulled the satchel towards her and began unlacing the top pocket. She was on the last section when her hands began to blur. Blinking, she shook her head. What was happening? Not blurry, she realized, but glowing, the light creeping up her arms. She turned them over, palms up, curious. The light pooled there and then flames erupted in each hand.

Lux screamed.

She was on fire! Frantically, she flung her hands around, smacking them on the ground. The flames went out and she braced for the pain… but none came. She examined her palms—they were unmarred, the glow fading from her skin. Tentatively, she held her palms out again. A warmth emanated from deep inside her core, rolling through her arms and escaping through her palms as dancing flames.

Gasping, she nearly retracted her hands, but she forced herself to hold them steady. “How is this possible?” she asked out loud. Clenching her fists, she extinguished the flames and tore the rest of the cord from the satchel. She dumped out the contents of the bag and grabbed the letter. Tearing it open she read:

“Luxanna,

Happy birthday. Hopefully by now you have reached the peak of Alchemist’s Tower and you probably have some questions. We do not know what form it will take, but at midnight a magical ability will manifested within you. Yes, magic still exists, but it cannot survive within the protective bubble of the village, and you cannot survive outside of it. Use your magic to your advantage while out there and keep yourself alive. Attached, you will find a map to the ruined city of Villarth. We need you to retrieve a purple crystal from within the city, your artifact. Avoid the shadow creatures roaming the dark and return to us within the time frame.

We are all counting on you,

The Elders of Paskaimas, the last village”

“Magic. The flames are magic!” Lux shuffled to the map. She located the Alchemist’s Tower and followed the dashed line to the ruins of Villarth. It wouldn’t be an easy journey.

“You needn’t bother with that map.”

Lux jolted, the papers scattering around her. She skittered back, dagger in hand, and took in the woman standing before her. Firelight played across her ebony skin and glistened in her dark eyes. Her hair was gray, but unlike the terrain, it was a beautiful mix of white and black; the tiny braids swept back from her face and artfully twisted on the crown of her head. She was lovely and while her hair color suggested age, her toned, lithe body emanated power. “Who are you?” she whispered.

“My name is Zora, and you are Lux. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“How do you know—the potion. It was you, wasn’t it? You gave the purple potion to Emmett.”

“Yes child. I pray that means you took it?” Zora’s eyes were tired but hopeful.

“I did. What does it do?”

“It negates the potion your Elders gave you.”

Lux clutched at her neck, the searing pain of adrenaline coursing through her body. “You’ve killed me.” Terror flooded through her. Without the protection of the Elders’ potion the toxic environment would kill her before she could make it home.

Sadness settled into Zora’s face. “No sweet child, I’ve set you free.”

Tears threatened to overflow her eyes as her body began to tremble. “I don’t want that kind of freedom,” Lux sobbed.

With slow, precise movements, Zora rounded the fire and crouched next to Lux. “You misunderstand me. My potion won’t kill you, and the Elders’ won’t save you. There isn’t anything wrong with the environment, it’s a lie. The earth was damaged in that long ago war, but only this area remains desolate—the magic being siphoned off to feed that accursed machine.”

“What?” Lux looked at Zora, into her gentle brown eyes. “I don’t understand.”

“There is much to explain and so very little time. I’ve watched both you and your friend Emmett, the two of you are kind.”

“The scratch in the window? You did that?”

She nodded her head and continued, “When Emmett ventured out on his Ordeal, I met him and explained everything as I’m doing with you now. But I knew he wouldn’t be the one to enact my plan because he wouldn’t be able to remember it. So, I gave him the potion to give to you. It negates the Elders’ potion which makes you forget, and poisons you.”

“That’s why no one can remember their Ordeal? Because they poison us?” Anger welled up inside of Lux, the fire danced and swirled, raging in response to her mood.

“They can’t risk you remembering what it’s like to be free, what the outside world is like.” She gestured to the space around us. “And they want to harness your magic.”

Lux wrapped her arms around herself. “I thought the magic didn’t work within the protection spell.”

“It would if the potion they gave you didn’t bind your magic to their machine. They’re feeding off you. They send you out her to awaken the magic within you on your eighteenth birthday, stealing it from you, making you forget you ever had it.” Zora scowled.

“But why? What’s the point? If we can survive outside of the protection spell and have magic, why would they need to keep the spell alive, keep this machine going?”

“The machine propagates the spells placed on it all those centuries ago, making it less taxing to keep them going. But the machine doesn’t just protect the village…”

Lux straightened. “What does it do?”

“It makes your Elders immortal.”

Ice filled Lux’s veins. Immortal? But that’s impossible. The current Elders were descendants of the original ten. They… they were hard to look at, hard to concentrate on. She had known they were old, with a firm image in her mind of what each looked like but she had never truly seen them. They always wore their cowls and her head hurt when she tried to investigate the shadows around their faces. It had always been that way until yesterday when she had taken the violet potion and looked Elder Neven in the face, a middle-aged face. A face that shouldn’t have been.

“I can see you know of what I speak. Your Elders are liars, greedy and power hungry. It was they who enacted the dark curse that ended the war two centuries ago. But it backfired and swept over this land instead of the rest of the world. Their temporary shelter became their permanent home—protecting them, keeping them young… but also keeping them isolated from the rest of the world. They have done grievous evil, and they must pay.”

Breathing deeply, Lux centered herself, focusing on what Zora was telling her. The village Elders, the ones who kept them safe, were treating them no better than chattel. “What of the crystals we’re here to fetch?”

Reaching into her pack, Zora pulled out a glistening purple stone. “Magic can be extracted from them but not much. They are abundant in this region. The crystals are a diversion, so you don’t realize the magic they are harvesting is your own.”

Lux bit back a sob. How could they? She would not let her people be used this way. “What do you need me to do?”

#

The week flew by as Lux trained with Zora, learning to hone her magic. The Elders were the enemy and they needed to be eradicated, for all they had wronged. Zora explained how the rest of the world was still living and fruitful, she had grown up a mere twenty miles from here, being taught to avoid the gray waste. She had eventually met up with a group that wanted to right the wrongs of that ancient magical war, to purge this land of the shadow beasts. That was how they had discovered the truth of the Elders and of Paskaimas. Now they wanted to set the people and their magic free.

At the first graying of the dawn on the final day, Lux set out across the gray waste to return home. She had begun her Ordeal a child, she was returning a woman—a warrior.

She reached the steel gates as the sun dipped past the horizon—dusk. Her fist meeting the steel once, twice, a third time. The announcement bells tolled for her, and the gate opened. She walked in, a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

The Elders swept her into their meeting chambers and looked at her expectantly. Eventually Elder Ivelisse said, “Well? Did you get it?”

“Oh!” exclaimed Lux. She knew the potion was supposed to make her forget, but she didn’t know exactly how much. “The artifact? Yes, I have it.” She pulled the crystal out of her bag and held it out to the Elders.

Elder Ivelisse studied her suspiciously and took the crystal. “Do you remember anything from your Ordeal.”

Lux shook her head. “No ma’am. Honestly, I almost forgot about that thing, too.”

The Elder’s eyes squinted as she looked her over. Lux’s heart raced. They know I’m lying.

An eon passed before the Elder nodded, tossing her another grey vial to drink—an antidote to the poison that would have killed her if she hadn't returned on time, not that they told her that—and dismissed her.

She breathed a sigh of relief and ran straight to Emmett’s room. Her hand was poised to knock when he flung the door open and pulled her in. “You’re safe,” he said, pulling her to him and pressing his lips to hers.

Lux melted. “Oh,” she said as he pulled away.

“I’m sorry,” Emmett stammered, “I didn’t—I shouldn’t have…”

Placing her fingers on his lips, she shook her head. “We have bigger things to worry about.” She pulled a vial of blue liquid from her pocket.

His eyes met hers. “Is it like the purple potion?”

“Similar, it’ll bring back your stolen memories.”

Grabbing the bottle, he popped the cork and downed it. His eyes widened and then focused. “Oh gods.”

“We have to destroy the machine,” she said.

He began to glow, the air whipping around them. His magic restored. With a feral grin, Emmett grabbed her hand, and they took off running.

#

They creeped through shadow and mist, down alleyways and around the outskirts of town. Finally, they reached the backdoor to the Elders’ chambers. Lux held her breath as Emmett picked the lock and gently pushed the door open. It swung on silent hinges, the hall behind it dark and empty.

Slowly, so slowly, they made their way through the building, pausing to peer around corners and into rooms. Emmett pulled air to listen for movement ahead. Eventually, they reached the stairs to the cavern housing the machine. There would be no hiding on the stairs. Once they were on them, they would have two options: up or down.

They began their descent—down and down they went. The air growing colder the further they went below ground. And then they were at the bottom, facing a single steel door. With a shuddering breath, Emmett pushed it open.

A gray-green light emanated from the room, shimmering and undulating like a reflection off water. The chamber was round with a dark outer walkway, columns separating it from the center of the room, which was teared downward, at the center was a pool. The pool radiated the gray-green light and the liquid inside of it was unnatural: writhing and dense. The machine wasn’t mechanical at all.

The door slammed behind them.

They spun around to find Elder Ivelisse. “I knew you’d come,” she sneered. “However did you manage it? We all saw you take the potion.” She eyed Emmett. “Perhaps you had help.”

“Does it matter?” spit Lux. You’re stealing magic to keep yourselves young, imprisoning us inside these walls.”

Elder Ivelisse’s lips pulled back from her teeth. “Staying young is just a pleasant side effect.”

“The real purpose of the spell is to increase our powers.”

The voice came from behind them. Spinning around, Elder Neven slunk from the darkness across the chamber, as did the other eight Elders. The room was instantly plunged into darkness.

Lux was blind. Her eyes alighted on the liquid at the base of the room, it glowed faintly, growing brighter. It was enough. She snatched the dagger from the sheath on her thigh and whirled around praying Ivelisse was still at the door. She grasped onto a body with her empty hand, soft and feeble, nothing like Emmett, and she knew she'd found her target. Slamming her dagger upward, she twisted it as it plunged into the woman's heart. Ivelisse gave a strangled cry and crumpled to the floor.

“Lux!” cried Emmett through the dark.

“I’m fine. Let’s kill these bastards,” she growled.

Light erupted in the room as Lux ignited the torches with her magic. Focusing on the pool, she began to heat it. A blinding light and her body seared with pain. Lightning was crackling through the air, using her as a grounding rod. Her fire surged and turned a brilliant blue, absorbing the electricity.

Emmett darted in front of her, his air deflecting some projectile sent by one of the Elders. They may be strong, but they hadn’t used their powers in decades. Lux used the lightning coursing through her to amplify her efforts on the magical liquid. It quickly began to bubbly and then it exploded. Globs of grey sludge surged into the air and were flung at the Elders on a phantom wind.

Emmett crouched next to her, teeth bared, wind swirling around them.

The Elders began to scream and crumple to the floor. Their bodies withering and desiccating as their true age caught up to them. The price of greed.

Lux and Emmett raced up the stairs, the entire town was about to have a magical awakening. In the square, Emmett ran to ring the announcement bells, Lux darting to the gate, they had some allies to let in.

Zora greeted Lux, a group of people behind her. The bells tolled and people flooded the town square, panicking as magic flooded their bodies, returning their stolen powers. “We need to calm them and explain what's happening,” said Zora.

Lux nodded and went to Emmett’s side. “Don’t panic!” she screamed. “The Elders have lied to us all and stolen our magic. Embrace your new powers. We can survive outside of this prison, outside the walls. We can be free!”

It took time, but with the help of Zora’s group, they righted the wrongs done to the people of Paskaimas. With the return of magic, the region healed, color and life returning to it. Lux was elected their new leader, with Emmett at her side—freedom and magic were the tenants of their new world and a peace settled over the land.