{ Earlier that day }
Gavin closed his eyes, letting the faint waft of emotions that suffocated the air around him wash over and past his senses. He was used to this—the noise. Everyone shouted their thoughts, and dreams were worse. Even at this early hour, his mind told him a crowd filled with drunken fools were clambering over each other for his attention.
He might’ve undersold the potency to his accursed powers to Cade and his team.
The tall and lean gentleman let his other senses take in what the streets of Elysia had to offer. The morning air was crisp with the scent of freshly baked bread and the lingering musk of rain-soaked cobblestones.
He sighed, grateful for at least the illusion of solitude. Last night had been too close.
He had lost count what night of the month it had been. His skin still itched from where his other power tried to claw its way out of him during their discussion.
Hands in pockets, Gavin strolled through the bustling streets of the market district, his nose twitching at the myriad of aromas—roasting coffee, sweet pastries, and the pungent tang of smoked meats. He meandered without purpose, his mind replaying the events of the previous night at the Twisted Oak.
The pull of the moon had been stronger than he anticipated, gnawing at his sanity, and he’d made a hasty excuse to leave before anyone noticed his growing agitation. He recalled that cute girl sitting next to that paladin.
Ebbie? Easy? Emily? Gods, he was the worst with names. He wished everyone could just go by their scents. That would make his life immeasurably easier.
Well, the strange woman of lavender and cinnamon had given him a look, as if she could see right through his facade.
He shuddered at the memory, though not entirely out of displeasure.
“Morning, my fair lady,” he muttered to a passing flower vendor, and flashed her a charming smile.
The vendor blushed, her cheeks blooming like the roses she sold, but Gavin’s thoughts were elsewhere. So his feet took him down a path so familiar he barely noticed the little tavern tucked away in an alley. He was mulling over what he might say to convince Cade to forget his premature departure when he spotted them—the Stone Britches.
“Shit,” Gavin whispered under his breath and picked up his pace.
Dressed in their signature bowler hats, suspenders, and waxed mustaches, the gang that ran this district was impossible to miss. Gavin’s pulse pounded in his ears as he instinctively turned to slip away into the crowd, but it was too late.
“Oy! If it isn’t our favorite pup?! It will always amaze me how a dog returns to his owner even after a beating. Ain’t that right, Gavin?” Rufus, the leader of this patrol, shouted. “Boys?”
That was all it took. Within seconds, Gavin was surrounded.
Rufus hopped off of the crate he was sitting on, his wiry frame a charade that hid the unnatural strength in his veins. He was a silver ranker, Gavin knew from his many closeup encounters with Rufus’ magic. And to think that he was just a foot soldier in Bernard’s forces.
Rufus stepped out of the early morning shadows, his breath reeking of stale whiskey and cheap tobacco. He grabbed Gavin by the collar, slamming him against the wall.
“We were starting to think you’d skipped town, Gav,” Rufus breathed into his face.
Gavin forced a smile, trying in vain to mask his fear. “Rufus, mate, you know I’m good for it. Just a bit of bad luck lately. Give me another week, and I’ll have your money.”
Rufus’s eyes narrowed, and he nodded to his henchmen. One of them, a burly man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped forward and pressed a wicked blade to Gavin’s neck. Another, shorter but stockier, held a dagger uncomfortably close to Gavin’s nether regions.
“Please! We’re all gentlemen here. No need for barbarism,” Gavin pleaded as he felt the lower blade inch closer to the point of no return.
“That’s awfully rich coming from a murderous bastard like you, Gav!” the man on his left spat. His dagger dug deeper into Gavin’s neck.
“Tick-tock, Gavin dear,” Rufus said, his voice a menacing whisper. “Your excuses are running thin. When are you going to pay up?”
Gavin swallowed hard, feeling the cold steel against his skin. The blade at his throat smelled faintly of oil and blood, and he nearly made a comment to its owner that he should really clean it before someone got an infection, but he decided against it.
“I’m working on something... big,” he answered, his voice smooth but edged with an annoying amount of desperation. “I just need a little more time. You’ll get your money, with interest. I give you my word as a gentleman.”
Rufus chuckled darkly. “Interest, eh? How generous. But you know what? I’m getting tired of waiting. Maybe we take a little down payment now, just to remind you of how serious we really are. A gentleman is always honest, isn’t that right boys?”
He motioned to the scarred man, who pressed the blade harder, a thin line of blood trickling down Gavin’s neck.
Gavin winced, his mind racing for a way out. “Please, Rufus, I can—”
Before he could finish, the shorter thug slashed his ear, a searing pain shooting through him. The thug licked the blade, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
“Always liked the taste of dog,” he sneered, the racial slur hanging in the air like a noxious cloud.
Gavin’s vision blurred with pain and anger, but he forced himself to stay calm.
“You’ll get your money,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “Tell Bernard I’m a man of my word.”
Rufus leaned in close, his breath hot and foul. “That’s not all you are. Now, get us our money, or next time, we’ll take more than just a nibble.”
They released him, and Gavin slumped against the wall, clutching his bleeding ear.
He hated them. He hated all of them.
Not for their cruelty—that he understood came with the territory.
No, it was because of how quickly they turned on him after just one mistake.
One mistake that nearly cost him his life.
The mustachioed gang sauntered off, their vicious laughter echoing down the alley. Gavin watched them go, his heart a battleground of shame and disgust. He could smell salt and brimstone in the air. He cursed, hating the smell of fear that wafted off of his body.
He knew he needed a plan.
This unfortunate encounter had only cemented his resolve. He had to get back into Cade’s good graces, join the real team, and use their strengths to achieve his own ends. With a grimace, he pushed himself to his feet and began making his way toward the arena.
He could do this. He could make this work.
The scent of his blood mingled with the morning air, a metallic tang that reminded him of his predicament. As he walked, the bustling sounds of the market faded, replaced by the ominous silence of his own thoughts. He was deep in contemplation when a sudden flash of light blinded him, and he felt himself being pulled away from the street.
“What in the hells?” He asked as his senses went haywire.
The sudden flash intensified. All he knew was a blank whiteness that consumed his senses.
And then, silence.
Gavin might’ve wept for the relief it brought, but like all good things in his life, it was ripped from him far too early.
The telepath’s vision cleared, and he found himself standing on a massive, stony platform, while the deafening roar of a waterfall crashed nearby. The thin air reeked with the scent of wet stone and moss, and they mingled with the sharp tang of fear that hung heavy over the area.
He looked down, and the single motion filled him with dread as he noticed the incongruity.
His body was not his own.
The platform beneath his feet was slick and treacherous, and he could feel the vibrations of the water pounding against the rock. Vision still blurry, he could hear the distant screams and shouts of other contestants, their voices distorted by the thunderous waterfall. The cold spray of the water stung his skin, mingling with the sweat that dripped down his forehead.
He felt it then—a foreign, yet immensely powerful telepathic link. It was like a sudden jolt to his psyche, an intense connection that filled his mind with a cacophony of sensations and emotions. Gavin stumbled to the side, clutching his head as he tried to focus.
“Wait, is this—?” He started, but then he made the mistake of opening his eyes again.
And he saw...
Shoes?
Blood dripped in this strange new vision around soaked leather shoes. If he had to guess, they belonged to an elf, given the light filigree sewn around their base, and the narrow length of the sole. He could feel the telepathic link strain as whoever he was paired with was consumed with panic. He swiveled for the source, but there were too many people clustered together on the floating platform. Overhead, a flock of birds cawed at their sudden appearance and darted through the entourage of contestants.
How high up are we? He wondered absently as he reeled to get a hold of his senses.
His own damned mind.
Something strained inside of him, and he focused on the new link there. He tried to extricate himself from it, but it was like shoving against a mountain. The link’s invisible line lengthened suddenly, and he felt the barest traces of terror run along its length.
Then nothing.
His sight returned to him, but the relief was short-lived. When next he opened his eyes, they worked as usual, but he almost wished he could keep them closed.
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Chaos reigned around him as contestants fought blindly, screaming about their stolen vision. Blades sunk into flesh, mingling with the salty waterfall that crashed around their legs, sweeping people to the edge of this strange floating platform and beyond.
People began to run. To crawl. They fled in every direction as he felt a spider web of telepathic links crisscross all around them, and yet only in pairs.
Gavin began to understand this trial, and revulsion swelled inside of his throat. This was not some mere lesson from a benevolent goddess. This was a twisted game.
He had no more time to consider his situation as an axe swept toward his face. Gavin ducked and weaved around the slice, but the mad brawl only worsened with each passing second.
Cursing, he narrowly avoided another blade, and it whistled past his windswept hair. He choked on the smells that collected on this forsaken platform. This altar.
The space was thick with the acrid scent of sweat and blood, the coppery tang of injury mingling with the dampness of the waterfall’s spray.
Gavin’s pocket grew warm, and a grim smile bloomed over his face. Maybe, just maybe, they weren’t totally screwed yet. He reached into the pocket and snatched the focal stone hidden there. Beneath the spiderweb, a calmer, subtler, series of connections ebbed and flowed in his vision.
His team was nearby.
He searched through the crowd and soon spotted Orro, the darkly garbed warrior moving with his eyes tightly shut. Gavin sprinted toward him, the ground slippery underfoot. He reached Orro just as another attacker lunged at him, their face twisted in panic.
Gavin tackled the assailant, feeling the rough fabric of their clothes and the hard muscles beneath. The attacker’s breath was hot and ragged against his face as they struggled, the scent of fear and desperation palpable. He slammed his elbow into their nose again and again until they went still.
Gavin’s chest heaved, but he forced himself to focus. He needed to prove his worth. He needed a win today.
“Orro, it’s me,” Gavin projected, trying to calm his racing heart. “I can help you. Trust me.”
Orro hesitated, and Gavin could see how even with his eyes shut, the dark warrior was aware of his proximity. How, he had no idea, but the telepath went as still as possible just in case.
After a painful few seconds, Orro responded. “Why should I?”
Gavin sent up a quick prayer of thanks to whichever god was listening when he heard Orro’s reply.
“Because if we don’t work together, we’re both dead,” Gavin sent back, his tone urgent. “I can use our connection to track whoever your vision is connected to.”
Orro stiffened. “How?”
“The link is telepathic,” Gavin explained hurriedly. “I swear, I can find them if you just open your eyes.”
“And then?” Orro demanded coldly.
This was the part Gavin dreaded. “I regained my sight the second mine died.”
He left the unspoken dilemma lingering in the air.
A tense moment passed before Orro nodded, his expression grim. “Fine.”
Gavin closed his eyes again, focusing on the connection between them. The scent of wet stone and moss filled his nostrils as he concentrated, the foreign link becoming clearer. It was a nearly invisible thread through the chaos around them, and yet in his mind’s eye he saw it trail downward.
Orro’s target was below them.
“They’re on the next platform!” Gavin shouted aloud.
Orro gripped his shoulder and gestured for Gavin to take the lead. They moved cautiously, every step a perilous dance on the slick, moss-covered boulders.
The screams and shouts around them intensified, and Gavin felt a rush of adrenaline. He could sense their target nearby, the link growing stronger.
“We need to jump,” Gavin sent, not wanting to alarm their prey should they have similar means as them.
He could practically hear the defeated sigh in Orro’s response. “The stairs aren’t connected? Of course they aren’t. Fine. Lead the way. If you make me fall, I will kill you.”
Gavin didn’t ask how that would work out, and so just grabbed the warrior by the arm and leapt down to the first step. Thankfully, neither fell to their demise, so Orro didn’t have to follow through on his threat. Right as they reached this platform, however, their target descended another step.
“They’re picking up their pace. I think they have help!” Gavin sent quickly.
Orro cursed, but sheathed his glowing orange blade and gestured for them to continue. They descended the floating boulders, the treacherous path demanding every ounce of their focus.
The roar of the waterfall was a constant, oppressive presence, its spray soaking their clothes as it rolled across each step of their way down like the world’s most unhelpful water feature.
Suddenly, the link flared with intensity, and Gavin knew they were close. He opened his eyes, feeling the proximity of Orro’s shared link. Their target, a frantic woman with wild eyes and twin axes in hand, was just ahead. She wielded her weapons with desperate ferocity, the metal glinting in the dim light as she swung without hesitation or prejudice.
Gavin considered it a miracle she had made it this far. Whoever might’ve aided her descent was nowhere to be seen.
“Now!” Gavin urged, directing Orro.
Orro lunged, his movements precise and deadly. The woman’s scream was cut short as he struck, her body crumpling to the ground. The telepathic link shattered, and Gavin witnessed the green glow in Orro’s eyes dissipate as his vision became his own once more.
“Let’s go,” Orro said aloud with dark eyes glaring. Gavin felt the raw anger behind that look, and swallowed hard.
“Right,” he answered with a nod.
They moved quickly, gathering Cade and the others as they descended.
It was a joyless task, but Gavin located each of their paired links, and Orro hunted them with brutal efficiency. With each death, their team sped up. The path was still treacherous, the boulders slick and unstable, but with their vision gradually restored, they navigated with renewed determination.
The intensity of the waterfall grew as they neared the final platform.
Nora and Evie were the last to be found. Gavin could sense the tension between them as they approached, noting Nora’s reluctance to open her eyes. It seemed she knew the cost quicker than the rest.
“Nora, we need you to trust us,” he projected, his voice firm but gentle.
Gavin watched from the lower boulder as Cade intervened, forcing her eyes open. The dwarf paired with Nora let out a panicked scream right before one of Orro’s black daggers ended his life with a single strike to his head.
For a brief moment, Gavin could feel the fierce rage Nora held toward their leader.
No, not toward Cade.
It was because he’d removed her ability to choose between her life and the dwarf’s. There was a surge of shame, of guilt, of a shattering illusion of self as she clung to her identity as a protector. The sentiment shivered and then disappeared as Nora retracted her mind from their shared link.
Soon enough, they reached the final platform, but the boulders were crumbling faster now. Below them, a crystalline pond shimmered invitingly, but it was over a fifty-foot drop to safety.
Gavin’s heart pounded as he prepared to jump. “You can do this. You can do this," he chanted under his breath.
Cade stepped to the edge, his eyes scanning the drop. Gavin took in the blonde man. Despite the danger, he looked at peace. The wind and spray from the waterfall almost looked to swirl around him rather than buffet his clothes.
Strange.
Cade turned back to the group, a reckless grin spreading across his freckled face.
“Well, I always did say I wanted to make a splash!” he shouted as everyone groaned.
Then he turned to face them, his expression a masterful combination between somber and devious. Gavin memorized it for later use.
“In case these are my last words... Cici sucks!” Cade shouted.
Before they could respond, he jumped off the edge with a wild yell.
“Who in the hells is Cici?!” Gavin yelled over the wild spray of water. His head pounded and it was like his very bones were waterlogged.
He had put his mind under too much strain the past hour, and now he was paying for it.
“Trust me! You don’t wanna know!” Jer called back.
“She’s the devil, and the reason we can’t leave Cade alone for more than a few minutes!” Elena added right before she too jumped over the edge.
Orro squeezed his shoulder and leaned in. “Cici always finds us. Always.”
Orro then followed Elena and Cade without hesitation. He leapt gracefully, slicing through the air and disappearing beneath the water with barely a ripple.
Jer, never one to be left behind, gave a whoop and jumped. Gavin’s jaw dropped as the red-haired boy twisted with expert precision, performing all sorts of rolls and flips right before he collided with the rippling surface of the pond. Rayka exchanged a glance with him before she nodded and dove over the edge.
Gavin felt his pulse in his ears.
He could do this. He could do this.
Someone moved closer to him, and he looked down to see the brown-haired girl. She smiled that knowing smile at him and stood up on the tips of her toes.
“I’m Evelyn,” the girl reminded him. Gods, her cinnamon and lavender scent was perfect.
She dropped back down and it was only then that he noticed his hand was in hers. Evelyn’s eyes sparkled in the morning sunlight, and mist caked her eyelashes like tiny gems.
“Don’t be scared, Gavin.” The woman’s voice was so calm, it was like the very winds stilled to listen to it.
The next second the two of them were airborne, and Gavin’s stomach flew up into his throat as he was shoved off the ledge by the brooding paladin.
Evelyn whooped with joy. He screamed.
Gavin plunged into the crystalline pool, the icy water enveloping him in an instant. He sank deep, the shock of the cold sending a jolt through his system. The world above seemed to fade, replaced by the tranquil silence of the pond’s depths. For a brief moment, the chaos and terror of the trial melted away, leaving only the cool embrace of the water.
As he kicked his legs, propelling himself upwards, he felt the water’s magical essence infuse him, revitalizing every fiber of his being. When he broke the surface, gasping for air, he was no longer on the floating platform.
Instead, he found himself in the center of the grand arena, the roar of the crowd thunderous and overwhelming. The pond’s surface was now flush with the sandstone floor, and he treaded the water in a daze.
He blinked against the sudden brightness, the sounds of the cheering spectators crashing over him like waves. The stench of sweat, dirt, and excitement filled the air, a heady mix that made his heart race. Gavin looked around, seeing that his teammates had already resurfaced, their faces reflecting a mix of exhaustion and triumph.
The goddess Life descended from above, her presence a radiant glow that demanded attention. She was breathtakingly beautiful, her features sculpted with divine perfection, but there was an air of arrogance about her, a haughty disdain that made it clear she saw herself far above the mortals she addressed. Her voice boomed through the arena, imperious and commanding. For some reason, he caught the barest hints of oil and mint from her, but her next words interrupted the implications those particular smells offered.
“YOU HAVE DONE WELL,” she proclaimed, her eyes sweeping over the assembled contestants. “YOU HAVE FACED THE TRIAL OF METAMORPHOSIS AND EMERGED VICTORIOUS.”
Her words were met with a roar of approval from the crowd, the noise swelling to a deafening crescendo. Gavin felt a rush of exhilaration, his earlier fears and doubts momentarily forgotten. He wanted to kiss her for the sheer relief and joy of surviving.
“AS YOUR REWARD,” Life continued, her voice cutting through the din, “YOU MAY CHOOSE A SINGLE ITEM FROM THE LIFEKEEPER TREASURY. CHOOSE WISELY, FOR THIS GIFT WILL AID YOU IN THE TRIALS TO COME.”
A beam of light shot from her palm, striking the center of the pond. The water rippled and glowed, and a chest slowly rose from its depths, adorned with intricate carvings and gleaming with otherworldly light. The chest opened with a soft creak, revealing an array of treasures within.
The arena fell silent, the weight of the moment pressing down on everyone present. Gavin’s heart pounded with anticipation. This was his chance, not just to survive, but to finally get back on his feet. To pay off his debts and secure his future. The aroma of opportunity was intoxicating, mingling with the charged air of the arena. All of the voices, shouting both mentally and physically, dimmed as he imagined it.
Freedom.
“YES!” Cade hollered and was about to approach the chest when Orro held him back. “What?” he asked the shady warrior.
“Your love for loot blinds you,” Orro answered simply.
“But loot is my love language!” Cade answered with a pout.
“I thought money was your love language,” Elena pointed out as she cleaned something from beneath her nails.
“They’re close cousins!” Cade retorted with a slight blush.
Gavin glanced at Cade and the others, his mind already calculating. They would choose wisely, he was sure of it. If he had to guess, they would all choose something useful or powerful. But for him, he needed something expensive. And possibly made from silk.
For the first time in weeks, Gavin felt a flicker of genuine hope. This could be the answer to his debt, the way to keep the Stone Britches at bay.
He glanced at his teammates, his mind already plotting his next move.
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