M.S. Davidson
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43. First in Line
🕑 Added 2025-09-04 16:00:10 +0000 UTCStepping through the portal felt like being electrocuted by a curious cat.
Static electricity swarmed across my skin—tiny, vindictive needles that found every gap in my armor and threw a party there. My face burned like I'd stuck it in an impression board, uncomfortable but not quite crossing into actual pain. Something was definitely probing me, paying way too much attention to my gear.
Then my stomach decided it wanted to get to know my throat.
The drop hit like an elevator malfunction. Weightless. Falling. My foot missed a step that wasn't there, balance shot to hell—
SLAM.
Solid ground materialized beneath me like something had just reminded reality how gravity works.
I blinked, and everything changed.
A pristine white stone pavilion stretched around us, cool air washing the portal-burn from my face. Massive columns held up a soaring dome that belonged in some architect's fever dream. Water cascaded from the ceiling into a circular pool at the center, its rhythmic splash the only thing keeping me calm at the magnificent sight.
Ahead, Diana was beating the absolute shit out of Chas with a sheathed rapier.
THWAP. THWAP. THWAP.
She wielded the scabbard like she was disciplining a stubborn mule, each strike landing with the precision of someone who'd clearly done this before.
Red materialized beside me, shaking so violently I worried he might vibrate apart. I dropped to check him over, and he launched into full tongue-assault mode—approximately seven thousand licks per second, each one carrying the enthusiasm of a dog who'd just discovered bacon existed.
"Ugh, c'mon, dude!" I tried wiping the slobber tsunami with my gloves, which only smeared it into artistic patterns across my face.
I yanked a spare shirt from my earring. "That thing’s a weapon!"
As we approached the pavilion's center, their argument crystallized into perfect clarity.
"I said I'm sorry, Di! Damn!" Chas blocked another rapier strike, arms up like a boxer.
"Sorry?" Diana's weapon found its target again.
THWAP.
"I've been sitting here for an hour! You don't think that's going to raise questions? You're the most stubborn person in the entire Multiverse—just ask for fucking directions!"
THWAP.
"It builds character—"
THWAP. THWAP.
Cass stood at the pavilion's edge, leaning over the stone railing as if she were watching an interesting movie. I followed her gaze, and my jaw unhinged.
Holy. Shit.
A vast valley yawned below us, packed with structures that looked like someone had cross-bred ancient temples with military fortresses. Dense forests wrapped around everything like nature was trying to reclaim civilization. A massive stone staircase wound down through it all, splitting between buildings before vanishing into the impossible distance. We were on the side of a fucking mountain.
"No wonder we needed our armor," Cass breathed. "We're in the Trial Grounds. This is where the Exams happen. How is this even possible?"
"I connected the Lobby realm to Sylvarus's Trial realm." Diana's tone suggested this was about as impressive as making toast. "It'll stay that way all week. Before all the gods-damned politics, this was a training ground for Seals."
"Our very own training course?" I couldn't keep the excitement out of my voice.
"Oh no, that would never fly." Diana's smirk could have cut glass. "You missed the explanation when the others arrived. You'll be sharing with them, whether you like it or not. Dara will oversee everything to ensure civility. Competition is healthy, but any fighting will have you out on your asses faster than a Tidebinder riding a riptide. And you won't be permitted to enter again."
Her pointed look landed on Cass like a targeting laser. She just grinned back.
"Who's Dara?" I raised my hand like a confused student.
"Gary, but for Sylvarus," Chas answered, still dodging Diana's educational beatings.
I frowned. "Which Gary?"
"They're all Gary," said a voice like liquid music, calm and far too familiar.
I spun toward the central pool, where a woman sat trailing fingers through the water like she owned the place. She looked like someone had pulled her straight from a fairy tale and given her a PhD in looking ethereal—pointed ears, flowing blue hair that defied physics, and a white dress that moved as if it was liquid.
"He's always been mischievous," Dara said, her voice carrying Gary's same playful undertone that simultaneously mocked you and welcomed you home. "I prefer being direct."
Diana groaned like her soul was leaving her body. "Dara, darling, what have I said about sneaking up on me?"
Dara tilted her head with practiced innocence. "I believe your exact words were: 'Stop fucking appearing out of nowhere, you gods-forsaken, sleazy, no-good—'"
"Yes, yes." Diana rubbed her temples like she was trying to massage away a migraine. "So if you remember, why keep doing it?"
Dara rose in one fluid motion, smoothing her dress with the grace of someone who'd never had an awkward moment in her entire existence.
"That's easy. Because it's fun."
Diana's groan suggested this conversation had happened roughly a thousand times before.
Recognition hit me like a brick to the face.
"You're the voice from the reading table," I said, pointing at her. "I'd bet on it."
Dara's smile widened like I'd just solved her favorite puzzle. "Very perceptive. I look forward to seeing how you perform in my Trials."
She dipped into a curtsy that somehow looked like she was dancing with invisible partners.
"There will be only one initiate allowed in each structure at a time," she continued, voice shifting into that measured tone adults used when explaining important things to children. "No time limit, but if you're injured or cannot make progress within a reasonable timeframe, I'll stop the trial to make way for others. Once complete—or if you wish to exit—infuse the panel next to each door with mana. Questions?"
I raised my hand. "What are the trials?"
"Five total. Each focuses on a particular aspect required to begin Runebinding: Power, Versatility, Grace, Perception, and Spirit. Each trial will differ for each initiate. I'll explain more when you enter."
I filed that away in the growing folder marked 'Things That Will Probably Try to Kill Me Later'.
"What about Red?" I glanced at my four-legged disaster magnet.
For the first time, Dara's composed expression cracked into genuine delight.
"Oh!" She dropped into a crouch as Red bounded over, tail moving fast enough to generate its own weather system. Her fingers found the perfect spot behind his ears, the one that turned him into a boneless puddle of happiness. "What a wonderful visitor!"
Red pressed his entire seventy-pound frame against her like she was his long-lost best friend, contentment radiating off him in visible waves.
Dara scratched behind his ears for another moment before straightening, her smile lingering like an afterimage. "But the trials aren't for him. Although..." She tilted her head thoughtfully. "If he wishes to try them, I won't stop him. He just won't be able to join you directly."
Something about her movements nagged at me—too fluid, too practiced—but I shoved the thought aside.
"Worth mentioning," Dara continued, "the portals won't let Initiates through unless you're properly armed and armored. Injuries can—and do—happen. Non-negotiable. Seekers present aren't bound by such restrictions."
Beside me, Cass unleashed a yawn that seemed to start somewhere near her ankles and work its way up through her entire body. The sight triggered my exhaustion like a contagion—a soul-deep yawn that reminded me I'd been knocked unconscious, traveled through several spirit realms, and had more of my worldview shattered, all before dinner.
"Let's get you two back to the Tower," Chas said, finally escaping Diana's rapier lessons. "It's been a long day. First thing after you wake up, we'll practice. Then Lagniappe will bring you back for the trials."
***
The next morning, Jeremy transformed into a precision instrument of torture disguised as a training instructor.
With every step I took, every shift in my stance—he corrected with surgical accuracy. He forced me to focus on mana flow while moving, something I'd completely ignored when Bravery took control of my body.
But as I kept at it, the pieces clicked together: cycling mana through my body while preparing for an attack wasn't just more efficient—it was like switching from a rusty bicycle to a sports car.
He didn't bother teaching me how to hit things. Instead, he zeroed in on my complete ignorance of mana mechanics—how it moved, how it affected motion, and exactly how much energy I'd been hemorrhaging without realizing it.
"Stop trying to brute-force everything," Jeremy said, his staff whistling toward my legs. "Flow with it. The mana should do the work, not the spell."
I stumbled back, teeth gritted. "Easier said than done."
"Everything worthwhile is easier said than done." He didn't pause, forcing me into another dodge. "You're making mana fight against your own body. Let it work for you."
He guided me through movements that felt like martial arts had a baby with interpretive dance—each motion aligned with mana's natural flow. My body moved on pure energy rather than muscle, and the sensation was...
Weird. But also incredible.
"You're thinking too much." Jeremy's staff tapped my shoulder as I hesitated mid-step. "Stop analyzing every movement. Stop thinking about moving and just move."
After what felt like hours of this mystical torture, something shifted. The strain melted away, replaced by a synchronization I'd never experienced. Moving like this wasn't just efficient—it felt right. Like I'd stumbled onto some fundamental truth about how bodies were supposed to work.
Eventually, several Hunters arrived for their normal classes. Jeremy gave them a quick nod before waving me off.
"That's enough for today. Go on. You have things to do."
I blinked, unsure if I was actually dismissed, but his expression left zero room for negotiation.
Red trotted out from the trees carrying a stick like he'd just conquered a small forest, tail wagging with the satisfaction of someone who'd had his own private adventure while I got my ass kicked by physics.
The river came into view as we walked, sunlight dancing across the surface like scattered diamonds. Lagniappe floated on his back, surrounded by several smaller otters, all munching yellow fruit and making contented chittering sounds.
"You're early, Cher," Lagniappe said without looking up. "Figured Jeremy'd keep you longer."
I sighed, watching one of the smaller otters commit what appeared to be fruit-based grand theft. "I think he got bored with me."
Lagniappe's deep chuckle rumbled across the water. "More like he's makin' sure you practice on your own. Ain't no quick way to learn what he's teachin'."
Another sigh escaped me. He wasn't wrong.
"Cass here yet?" I scanned the peaceful riverbank.
Lagniappe shook his head, flashing teeth that belonged on something much larger than an otter. "No, sir, but I can take you to the portal. A couple of folks already went through while you were gettin' educated."
The walk stretched longer than expected, the portal apparently much farther downriver than my memory suggested. Finally, a subtle break in the dense tree line revealed our destination.
"That it?" I pointed toward the barely visible shimmer.
"Good eye, Cher." He grinned. "Now remember—you’ve gotta suit up."
Groaning, I pulled my armor from the earring, immediately noticing how much tighter everything felt. Either the armor was shrinking, or the steady diet of bread and cheese was doing its job.
"It's only day one, eh?" Lagniappe's tone carried a gentle warning. "Don't overdo it."
"Thanks, Lagniappe. See you soon."
He slipped back into the river with his usual grace, vanishing beneath the surface as if he'd never existed.
Red trotted up beside me, fixing me with that unmistakable look—the one that said his stomach was a vast, empty void that only food could fill.
"Come here." I sighed, pulling out another bread ration. "I swear you eat more than I do."
Red inhaled an entire loaf of sourdough like it was a light snack, tail wagging with the intensity of a small hurricane.
"Where do you put it all?" I muttered, patting his deceptively normal-sized stomach. "Ready?"
He shot me a look that clearly said, not really, but we stepped through anyway.
***
The pavilion buzzed with activity—nearly a dozen people moving about, their conversations mixing with the gentle rush of water. As Red and I recovered from the portal's electrical personality disorder, a familiar scoff sliced through the noise like a rusty knife.
"Oh good, the Terran is here. I don't get why they haven't just thrown you off our world already."
I turned toward the voice with the enthusiasm of someone expecting a root canal. "Dorian Graves." I tried to sound thrilled to see him and failed spectacularly.
He stood with two others—Malcolm and someone who radiated the kind of quiet intensity that suggested he wanted to bench press me.
I blinked, my gaze snapping back to Malcolm. "Malcolm... Valerian?"
He nodded with a polite smile that seemed genuinely amused rather than mocking.
"And I don't think we've met." I offered my hand to the third man, who looked at it like I'd just offered him a live snake.
"Darryl Summers." His voice carried all the warmth of winter in Antarctica.
"Darryl! Nice to finally meet you." I shot a pointed glance at Dorian. "Any relation to Katie Summers? Bit rude of you not to introduce us last time, but I'm sure he's forgiven you for it."
Darryl's eyebrows drew together slightly, but he nodded. "She's my cousin."
Dorian scoffed again, irritation practically radiating off him in visible waves. "We won't need to know you in a week when you're off our world."
Choosing the diplomatic route, I kept my voice light. "I'm really not sure what I've done wrong to you, Dorian. I thought we were square after the reading room thing."
"He paid for a query as an apology," Malcolm cut in, his friendly tone slicing through the tension like a hot knife through butter.
"One red mana coin means nothing." Dorian's voice climbed toward a whine. "We'd been waiting for hours, and he just traipsed in and kicked us out."
I raised my hands in surrender. "Okay, I get it. I apologize."
Dorian stalked off like a petulant child, the other two following. Malcolm hesitated, glancing back at Red with genuine curiosity lighting up his expression.
"Is that your familiar? The one that ruined Jenny's dagger?"
I nodded, reaching down to scratch Red's ears. "That's him. Name's Red."
Malcolm stepped closer, studying Red with the kind of interest usually reserved for rare artifacts. "He's nothing like anything I've seen before."
Red tilted his head, tail wagging tentatively, clearly debating whether to be friendly or maintain his mysterious reputation.
"Yeah," I said, patting his side. "Turns out he's one of a kind."
Malcolm's grin widened. "She's pissed about it. That thing was worth a fortune." He chuckled as if it was the best news he'd heard all week. "I've heard of things that can mess with Spirit Steel, but I've never seen it happen. How'd he do it?"
I shrugged. "No idea. He just... barked at it."
"That's it?" Malcolm laughed outright, shaking his head in amazement. "No wonder she's so mad. A bark. Best of luck with the training."
As he walked away, I muttered to Red, "Okay. Turns out Malcolm doesn't completely suck."
I started toward the railing when Dara's voice rang out, cutting through the chatter like a bell.
"The pool contains glass beads. Pull one out to determine your first trial and the order in which you'll be allowed to attempt it."
I spun, joining the migration toward the central pool. Others reached into the water, pulling out small glass beads, their groans suggesting the universe had a sense of humor and it wasn't kind.
Shrugging, I dipped my hand in, fingers closing around something smooth and warm. I pulled it out and examined the floating red letters inside: First Position - Power.
Perfect. Because clearly, power was my strongest trait.
I sighed but spotted Malcolm heading toward the massive staircase that wound into the valley. Grinning, I caught up to him, Red padding along at my side with the casual confidence of someone who'd never met a problem he couldn't solve by being adorable.
"What'd you get?" I asked.
"Grace. You?"
"Power."
Malcolm winced like I'd just told him I'd volunteered for experimental surgery. "Ouch. Not many pass that one on the first try, let alone use it for training. But hey, if you could knock Jenny down..."
Dara's voice rang out again, carrying across the pavilion with perfect clarity.
"Approach the structures. They will open to matching colored beads. Should you have questions, you may ask once inside. These training rooms will differ for each person. It's up to you to determine what you'll gain from them."
Malcolm squared his shoulders and sighed like he was preparing for battle. "Of course they're different... Tower spirits never like to keep things simple."
"Are they that common?" I raised an eyebrow.
"More than most think. Several spirit-based towers exist worldwide, but only two have enough depth to access the Multiverse. Many have spirits like Dara or Gary—and all of them are annoying to a fault."
I shook my head. "I've only been here a week. That's completely new to me."
Malcolm chuckled. "Unbidden are more common through the other Tower in Sunspire. That one's considered the main tower."
"I've heard that. Might be a way home for me there too." I clapped him on the shoulder, noting his slight smile. "Good to know I'll have to deal with another Gary or Dara."
"Common knowledge, but... you're welcome."
As I approached the red-marked door, my marble buzzed with mana like an excited bee. The moment I crossed some invisible threshold, the glass bead disintegrated into sparkling dust, flowing into the door's markings like liquid light. A soft hiss sounded as the chamber slid open with the smooth precision of expensive machinery.
I turned to Red. "Guess I'm flying solo in here—be out shortly, okay?"
Red plopped down with the dignity of a king claiming his throne, ears forward, tongue hanging out in a grin that suggested he couldn't be more content if he tried.
"Alright then. Good talk."
Dara's voice surrounded me, soft but omnipresent. "Don't worry. I'll allow him to observe if he'd like. He seems content to wait for your return."
The door slid shut behind me as I stepped forward. Another wall opened ahead, revealing a large circular chamber that belonged in some ancient temple built by giants.
At the center stood a massive white statue of a man gripping a hammer, its stance radiating a power that suggested it could reshape mountains as a hobby. At his feet lay what looked like an anvil—with another hammer resting across it.
The weapon gleamed in the chamber's sourceless light, looking remarkably similar to the sledgehammer I'd used on the Carapax. Only this one gave off a weight that suggested it was forged from concentrated gravity and poor decisions.
Dara's voice boomed through the chamber, echoing off the walls with the authority of someone announcing the end of the world.
"Show your strength to the universe, Ben Crawford. Strike the anvil true."
I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders as I approached the block. The hammer looked innocent enough, but since arriving on Ark, I was realizing that nothing was.
With a sigh that came from somewhere near my soul, I gripped the handle with both hands. The weight hit me immediately—immense, like holding a car on a stick. Mana flowed through my arms, reinforcing muscles and bones against the impossible mass.
"Alright, universe," I muttered, raising the hammer high above my head. "Let's see what you've got."
I swung down like I was aiming for the top prize at a carnival game.
The hammer struck the block with a sound like reality breaking. A pulse of red energy exploded outward from the impact, washing over me in a wave of heat and power. The entire chamber shuddered, the air thickening until it felt like trying to breathe soup.
A low grinding sound rumbled through the space—stone shifting against stone, ancient mechanisms awakening from slumber.
I stepped back, pulse hammering against my ribs as I looked up at the statue.
The massive figure moved.
It straightened to its full, impossible height with the deliberate grace of something that had been waiting centuries for this exact moment. Stone muscles flexed as it gripped its own hammer—a weapon that made mine look like a child's toy.
Glowing eyes locked onto me with the focused intensity of a predator that had just found its next meal.
Cold realization crashed over me like an avalanche.
"Oh, fuck," I whispered, my voice barely audible over the sound of approaching doom. "I forgot to grab my healing potions."
