In the observation room, silence reigned. Rion's eyes were still glazed over as he stared at the now empty room, and Langlord, breathless, had slumped in his comfortable chair. That was it! The first chosen one had been selected. He couldn't believe it! After so much doubt and hesitation, trial and error, fear and scruples, the wheel had finally turned for him! This tenth group would be the one to succeed where all the others had failed miserably. And these "chosen ones" would make sure that he achieved his master stroke. The most glorious path was assured for him, it was spread out, bright, before his eyes. He had not felt such joy for many years!
He stood up so quickly that he startled Rion, still absorbed in his observation of the empty room. His chief's face had changed so much that he didn't know whether to consider it a good omen or not: it was as if it were luminous... And he was staring again at the candidates' arrival door. With good reason: once again the curtain parted, making room for the next person on the list of Eternals.
Langlord II had always thought he was prepared for any eventuality. He was sure of his presence and his ability to hide his innermost feelings behind the thick mask of appearances. But the man who entered the room, the new candidate, shook his perfectly organized world. A drop of sweat slid down his temple, passed along his cheek and ended up in the hollow of his neck. He blinked his eyes, as if hoping to see the person who had taken his place in the center of the room disappear. Without hesitation, the man's gaze was directed towards the observation wall and his gaze seemed to penetrate it with disconcerting ease. Langlord II swallowed his saliva, unable to take his eyes off the steely blue gaze that stared back at him. A look that reminded him of another, so well known.
Virs...
**********
***
"What?!" squealed Nawal as he starred at the human who had entered the room. "What is he doing here?"
"He's like many: looking for his way..." Rom simply said.
"I'm not sure..." Daoud thought aloud, "if it's a good thing that we're continuing on this path..."
"Don't tell me you're suddenly afraid of what might happen next! All this because of this Human? It's fate that has pushed him to come and test his luck here and now. And whatever the case, the ritual cannot be interrupted."
"You may be right, Gotarra," he replied, in a slow doubtful voice. "Let's continue then."
***
**********
The man, still in the center of the room, stared unblinkingly at the wall in front of him, as if trying to pierce it with his eyes. He was as thin and pale as Markus had been muscular and tanned. As dark, as Markus had been bright. And very tall. Long, straight, jet-black hair framed his face in a pallid hue whose only hint of color was given by a blue gaze as if washed out by time and life. The eyes of his father, Azilis, King of Human.
Pulling his gaze away from the enchanted wall and releasing by this same movement the tension that had tightened on the Human Master, the candidate turned his eyes upwards. With his arms casually crossed at chest level, he exclaimed:
"I am Virshan, bastard of one of the sons you directly sired. Spare yourself any theatrics unworthy of me and test me without delay!"
Virshan, we see you and know you, but don't expect any bias from us! Daoud's calm voice said.
"That is not what I am asking. Test me like anyone else, like everyone else: without benefits and without hassle, that's all I want!"
So, it shall be! replied the Eternals in unison.
And the darkness fell brutally on the room. A dampness rose from the floor tiles, causing liquid air to billow up in fluid veils to the sky. The ceiling of the room was no longer so dark and it seemed possible to see what looked like stars appearing and disappearing in a strange rhythm, breathing-like.
The ground was covered with grass and leaves of impressive and strange shapes and sizes. Huge tree trunks suddenly appeared in view. They were everywhere around Virshan.
On his face was a surprise, like a foreign feeling. He looked around him. As far as the eye could see was a luxuriant vegetation, bushy, moist and heavy. But his vision did not pierce far, occulted by all this greenery... The odors, raw, saturated and complex were also foreign to him.
Uncrossing the arms, he passed a hand in his heavy hair. The heat began visibly to discomfort him. He started to move, following with his eyes a path that only he could see, understanding that it was his path, a path made for him alone. He moved with difficulty in the middle of a nature not used to the presence of men. He had been walking for half a ray and did not seem to have made any progress at all.
Langlord II was impressed by the man's calm and determination. Even though he still didn't understand the content or the meaning of his test, he continued to walk steadily forward, without the slightest sign of irritation. In any case, the heat was unbearable, almost more insidious than if Ethea had been present, and so full of humidity that the slightest movement was uncomfortable.
Virshan, lost in the middle of an unknown world, stopped. He sat down nonchalantly on a stone in the background to catch his breath. Unconsciously, he tucked a lock of hair behind his earlobe, as if this gesture, repeated a thousand times, helped him concentrate. He stared at the ground. Then he was startled: a scream had shaken the apparent tranquility of the forest-jungle. It was not a continuous cry, not even a complaint, it was not the cry of a man or a woman. And even though it meant nothing, its real meaning was very clear. Palpable. It was a cry of terror. And it was directed directly at Virshan. In a fraction of a ray, he had left the field of vision of the observers and had retreated into the heart of a liana tree, thus hidden from the sight of what was coming towards him, the tree offering him moreover an ideal scent protection. He took a lot on him, calming as best as he could the beating of his heart which twitched at the least cry of the beast. It was close now. The earth was now echoing the regular beats of its hurried steps in a frantic cavalcade. And the sound, muffled, heavy, low, entered directly into him by the soles of his feet, spread like a cold venom in his veins. He was surprised to discern a second set of sounds, lighter, surer and more measured. Feline.
In front of his staring eyes, some kind of wild animal, a prey, high on legs so thin they seemed unable to bear its weight, entered his field of vision. The animal looked terrified, looking for any direction to go. It turned around like a spring that stretches towards what was following it. The prey had arrived at the place of its sacrifice. The killer had arrived. The light even seemed to be playing at staging a perfect entrance. A huge velvet paw landed on the ground overlooking the scene. A flood of orange color came into Virshan's view. Orange, black and white. Stripes. The man's turn to be petrified. A tiger! Worse! he realized, looking more closely with horror: a saber tooth!
If that predator, the killer, felt him, he wouldn't survive long. But he really wanted to! At that instant, he couldn't do anything without risking to reveal his presence. He could only wait for the right moment to try to slip away. He refocused on what was essential: the duel on which his life depended. There was a moment of calm, of observation. Prey and hunter were facing each other, evaluating possibilities, opportunities, chances... Then the game was over. The feline melted on his prey with the speed of lightning. The game, deer or antelope, jumped aside, but a fraction of a ray too late. Powerful claws had sunk deep into its flesh and a trickle of blood was already running down its long, frail neck. With his jaw firmly clamped in the neck of his food, the saber-toothed one drank the warm, sweet blood that was pouring out of the wound he had just caused. The food was moving, but the grip was effective and soon she would not even have the strength to stand. She was already beginning to show signs of fatigue. One of her front knees bent, she tried to resist and stand up, but the second one gave out in the effort. Soon the beast was lying on its side, its killer's jaw still set in its flesh. This was the moment Virshan chose to put the most distance between himself and the ever-present danger of this impressive carnivore. The saber-tooth reopened his eyes and fixed them on the man who had just emerged from the protective shadow of the tree-liana. A hoarse growl came from his chest as he still did not let go of his lunch. With infinitesimal patience and measured steps, Virshan moved away from the scene without ever losing sight of the terrible predator. When the terrain allowed, he turned and ran with all the power of his legs. He ran for a long time, to the point of losing track of time and distance, but only stopped when he felt safe enough. As his breathing returned to normal, his heart continued to pound in horror. The ordeal of this poor beast, succumbing to the yoke and blows of his assailant, losing his precious life fluid, Virshan felt it in the depths of his being, with painful acuteness. To see himself, to feel emptied of his essence, of his flesh, of his life, alive! To disappear into another being, this only thought provoked terrible discharges of pain that ran through his whole body. He was so close to nausea that he decided to resume his walk, secretly hoping that the fresh air of the forest would calm his most irrational fears. But there was no breath of wind in the heart of the forest and he walked as if he had drunk too much, intoxicated to the point of sickness. So oblivious to his surroundings and withdrawn into his discomfort that he wanted so much to control, he did not feel the tiny "click" caused by his foot. He had inadvertently stepped on some kind of leaf. Before he even realized what was happening, the aerial roots of a "plant" had wrapped themselves around him, lifting him like a weightless bundle of straw few inches off the ground. Hanging upside down, he was thrown into a kind of hole, unable to react.
He recovered as best he could by straightening up in the small space into which he had been thrown into so abruptly. The walls of the cave were much less rough to the touch than he had imagined at first. In fact, they were rather soft, reminding him of the velvety skin of peaches. It also had a delicate, fruity, delicious smell. They also had a touch of softness that was strange for a wall made of rock. He pressed harder with his palms to test an idea that was beginning to germinate in his mind. The material resisted. It had a kind of firm elasticity. But it was definitely not made of stone. It was too different. And it produced heat.
He wondered where he was, trying to think, trying to step back, but not succeeding. The scent was heady and the pleasure he had felt the first time he had smelled it was now turning into a form of extreme disgust. A disgust which took physical manifestations. He fell violently to his knees and vomited. It was so overwhelming that he trembled as tears of pain drowned his vision for a moment. The smell, heavy, padded, rich, permeated every fiber of his being, preventing him from any orderly, logical thought. His head was pounding horribly. He tried to bang it against the walls to stop the pain, but it only bounced against the rubbery, benevolent walls of his prison.
He felt himself leaving, his mind drifting a little more towards unknown limbo with each passing moment, irresistibly. A soft warmth enveloped him and locked him a little more in a comfortable but oppressive cocoon. Something, a kind of sticky fluid began to rise and invade the small space in which he was confined. He didn't understand it at first, and by the time he realized that this "fluid" was still rising, he was already up to his waist. It was a strange matter, almost as much as what was now his prison. A fluid, neither totally liquid or limpid like water, nor completely gelatinous. Between the two. And hot. Not hot, no, just warm. Pleasantly warm.
He let himself be rocked for a moment before a reflex of fear brought him out of his lethargy: the water was touching his lips. A veil of panic passed through his eyes as the water rose ever higher and engulfed his nose, and caressing his eyelashes. This time it brought him completely out of his catatonic state and he struggled with all his being. He tried again to move, to open, to spread the walls that held him prisoner. The water had now invaded his entire space and he could feel his lungs burning from lack of oxygen. He had to hurry. His failure, his death, had never been so close. He tried again, throwing with all his strength arms and legs, feet and fists against the walls that oppressed him, hoping to free himself from the confinement and asphyxiation. It is with horror that he realized that he had just opened his mouth in his desperate effort and that liters of this liquid were now invading his body, rushing into his lungs, replacing the smallest molecule of air that could still be there. This time, it was over for him. He couldn't believe it: to have come so far, by himself, against all and especially against his own people - and more than anything, against the imperious will of his august father - all for what? To die alone in a place known only to the Eternals, drowned in a cave. What a stupid death.
But was it really a cave? While death was there, just millimeters away from him, he couldn't let go, couldn't give up. Not anymore. Something was wrong. Like a circle that you want to fit into a square hole. He wasn't dying by drowning - he could breathe quite freely, yet another thing to add to the long list of strange things that had happened to him since he'd entered the test room - he was being eaten!
And in a flash of genius, he understood: the click, the leaf, the roots. He was in the belly of a carnivorous plant of such incredible dimensions as to make a man his meal of the day! He panicked, taken over by the visceral disgust that this idea always provoked: to die devoured alive... Because without any doubt, this explained why he was still alive when the sticky liquid was already decomposing his clothes and burning his skin. He couldn't end up like that. It was worse than anything! Worse than drowning. He shook himself with all the strength of his will. Again, and again. But the plant was both flexible and resilient. She didn't let herself be pushed around; she didn't let him escape... And he had no hold inside: everything was soft, flexible, slippery. Nothing where to cling, where to scratch and dig his nails into! But he hadn't given up yet, far from it. He glimpsed a possibility. As tiny as it was, he clung to it with desperate strength. He focused his mind on it, and he felt it take shape within him. It was working, he was sure of it now. He didn't know how long it took, but at no time did his mind fail. He could see the exit in his mind as if it had seen it through his own eyes. In fact, it was so bright that he was dazzled by it. It was growing every second a little bit more.
There was a movement in the "water". The level dropped abruptly as the exit opened. He then realized that he was not dreaming, it was reality. A kind of dagger blade or curved sword had cut through the plant that held him prisoner; liquid was flowing out of the wound, which was getting worse as the blade cut through the plant. Eventually the opening was large enough to let him through, and he emerged from his prison, brought to life, carried away from the plant by the fluid, its fluid; that very fluid that should have consumed him.
Virshan was wearing only a few raggedy layers of fabric instead of clothes. He got rid of them as quickly as possible. He had to get rid of the fluid still on his now naked body. That's when he felt his right arm caught in the grip of another jaw! But she did not crush him, on the contrary: with an extreme softness, she pulled him aside, towards a stream which ran below. The sight still blurred by the liquid of the plant, he stared at the animal that had saved him. He fell into pure, yellow eyes. A wolf. The curved sword that had ripped his killer open was one of its claws. Virshan should have been frightened, nothing is more dangerous than switching from one predator to another. But he did not feel the slightest fear: he had recognized the animal for what it really was.
He let himself be dragged towards the fresh water and slipped into it with pleasure. Getting rid of the few shreds of clothing still stuck to his skin, he splashed himself with water with delight. He plunged the head directly into the brook to withdraw the digestive fluid which remained stuck in his hair. After this vital cleansing, he leaned over to the wolf, who had remained on the bank of the stream and was looking at him passionately. Virshan put his hand on its muzzle, then stroked its head and ears raised proudly, then he stepped out of the stream and straightened up to his full height, the wolf remaining nobly at his side.
Although he had never been attracted to his own sex, Langlord II could not help but think what a handsome man Virshan was. And majestic. He could have felt a fatherly pride at the sight of this young man braving the taboos and passing - and succeeding with flying colors - one of the most dangerous rites of the Eternals.
Virshan, still firmly planted on his legs, with only his long, deep black hair covering his back and shoulders, stood still and said, in a sure and measured voice:
"Eternals, you have tested me and I have passed your test. It is now up to you to fulfill your part of the pact between us."
"But!" cried Rion in the observatory, "he cheated! He's got an animal to help him by some unknown trick!"
Langlord said nothing, for he knew that he had nothing to say, not being able - and not deserving - to judge the success or failure of the candidates in the very personal test which was proposed to them by the Eternals, the only true judges.
Virshan had not heard Rion's rant, it would not have made any difference, that little buffoon was of no importance. The Eternals had heard him, of course, Rion was sure of it, but to his great surprise, he saw the rainforest scenery fade away around Virshan. The test room reappeared for a few moments as an overlay, then gradually took on more substance before completely rematerializing. In the background, the exit door appeared.
Without hesitation, Virshan walked towards it. Rion's eyes were wide open: the wolf was still there, at the man's side, and he went through the door with him.
**********
***
Daoud's laughter filled the space: "You can't cheat when you help yourself," he exclaimed, as if indirectly answering Rion's criticism.
"That Virshan, he's really... interesting," Gotarra admitted.
"Yes, and he too has passed our test, so things are starting to look up," said Rom.
"Let's see who's next!" Nawal said cheerfully. He was also becoming very interested by this session...
***
**********