The Test is a rite of passage.
No matter the death toll.
Plamen pushes the bright green leaves away to see a youngster from another clan falling under an enchanted boulder in the distance.
That fool!
Vid has never been the sharpest tool in the shed but rushing in to get himself incapacitated is something not even Plamen could predict.
He rolls his eyes at the whimpering cries for help coming from under the boulder. At least it didn't crush Vid, he thinks as he sizes it up, his mind working out the calculations.
Hardening the skin of his right hand, Plamen waits for a perfect moment and then he's off, legs slapping over the gravel, taking him faster and faster through the small clearing encircled by the treeline and toward a steep ridge ahead until the ancient inscription carved into the grayish stone meets his eyes. Red on gray, the symbols are incomprehensible for him.
Ah, that's what Yana's been nagging him about - the ancient magic of gods.
Rubbish.
Every kind of magic can be dismantled, and Plamen specializes in dismantling things. Well, destroying, but who cares about semantics.
The skin of his coiled fist has already sprouted pinkish scales, though he keeps the claws in, not letting them out even though they try to.
Just before he hits the big blob of stone, the inscription twists and twirls, turning into the blackest of blacks, eerie and cold, until his whole body shudders and he almost falters. The feeling it evokes is something he should've expected. He's been forewarned of it, how it sucks out the will to fight, yet it managed to seep into his mind with a saccharine whisper of persuasion.
This is how you want to play, huh?
The time slows to almost nothing. He sees the darkness of that archaic enchantment pulling into one spot, a spot where his punch will land, and thinks, perfect!
With a grin spreading over his face and fist closing in toward his target, Plamen lets the control over his magic loose and a burning-bright fire engulfs his body.
Flame of Conquest.
A resulting explosion after his fist's met the enchantment is deafening. Small rocks fly in all directions, a few catching on his face and clothes, and dust rises all around from the gravel.
The echo of a crunch rings in his ears, the destruction of the spell still vivid in his mind's eye, but it barely keeps his attention.
As his awareness spreads, Plamen notes the lack of nature sounds in the perimeter, all except harsh breathing behind him. It seems Vid has been knocked back from the collision. Turning his head in the direction of the only vibrant life in the span of kilometers, Plamen surveys the black-haired youth slinking on the ground.
Vid is covered in so much dirt that the ostentatious blue of his apparel is almost unnoticeable. Blood trickles down his left brow and over the closed eyelid which hides a deep blue iris, different from the other yellow one looking up at Plamen.
The wound seems to be somewhere in his hairline, so with a roll of his eyes, Plamen steps closer.
"Hey! You alive?"
Vid's mouth falls open and what comes out is definitely something Plamen will use in the future to poke fun at the idiot. Because, honestly, such a pathetic moan is unbecoming of any Dragon Heir, much less the Heir of the 'Oracle' clan.
He sighs and once again rolls his eyes as he realizes that Vid has nothing on his person except the sullied, fancy clothes. His belongings aren't visible, probably lost somewhere in the blast.
Plamen rummages through his pouch to find what will one day be his leverage over the future head of the terrifying clan of seers. Satisfied with that notion, he tosses the small package of healing supplies. It falls and bumps on the other teen's face, compelling him to utter a pained yelp, and rolls down to the ground next to him.
He doesn't wait for Vid's eyes to clear, the heterochromatic stare of his fellow examinee still unfocused as he heads off toward the cliff.
Stupid, he thinks, foolish to lose equipment. Vid should know better than to get himself nearly killed during The Grand Test of Power. And he's this year's favorite for the title of the Champion. Pathetic.
The menacing looking ridge is the path Plamen needs to take, no matter the steep upward slope. The surrounding forest leading to the cliff's summit is misleading in its seemingly lighter appearance, inviting examinees to enter the amassed greenery. A direct way to the afterlife.
He reaches out to feel the slopes and protruding ridges, searching for that small breath of magic he felt while scanning the vicinity. The stone under his fingers is jagged and sharp, but some parts are smoother than the others. It should be there, at the height of his breastbone, invisible to the naked eye.
As he searches over the uneven surface, the rising sun peeks through the canopy of trees, illuminating the modest glade. The light catches a few long strands of his loosely tied hair, the resulting reddish gleam makes him grab the offending hairs to stuff them behind his ear.
It's annoying enough that his hair has red highlights, but to light up like an inferno under the sunlight, it just paints a big target over his head. Why is his hood down in the first place? He snorts and pulls it over his head, the garnet strands now hidden under the dark green cloth.
Click.
Something gives with that unnatural sound, making Plamen jump back to take a loose stance in case something blows up. Fates have an obnoxious sense of humor and usually make things explode into Plamen's face. Well, he's set and ready this time.
After a long and anxious minute of quiet, besides hearing Vid ungracefully shuffling to his feet behind him, the ground starts to shake, rumbling almost like an earthquake, and directly in front of Plamen, the stone splits. The black gap grows and grows, followed by a roar of destruction, all the way until it resembles a cave.
The cave doesn't seem to hold the same ominous ambiance as the thick forest leading to the top. Interesting. That must be the task to overcome - either being bullheaded and battle through everything the aberrant greenery will offer or being smarter and look for clues for an easier path.
Hmm, lucky me.
"What have you done?"
Plamen stops in midstep and shifts his head to stare at the owner of that voice. Vid is clutching his head with one hand, over the white bandage that was probably hastily wrapped and is making his black hair bend into a weird shape.
It seems Plamen has been silent for too long because the other teen begins to squirm, shuffling his feet and shifting his dual-colored eyes all over the place.
"Completing the test," is all Plamen offers as an answer.
Although an idiot, Vid is still a rival, and Plamen doesn't plan on losing time on explanations. Obviously, the other boy didn't seem to get the point of this part of the test, but still managed to notice something on the hill - or has been unknowingly guided to this place by his senses at least. No matter what, this is where they part ways.
Plamen shoots his usual lopsided grin. "See ya around. Stay alive!" He says and then, he's off through the mouth of the cave, into the dark interior.
Darkness spreads ahead, but he can see the tunnel broadening as he goes further. Stalactites and stalagmites greet him after a few dozen steps and he notices the Sparkling Cyan Moss lighting the way in fluorescent tones. Convenient.
This type of moss is relatively unusual so far in the south, but he doesn't find it weird considering the fact that the cave is damp with humidity three times more than outside. Also, the whole testing site where The Grand Test of Power is held possesses such high concentration of pure magic that it's not even funny, something this kind of moss prefers, and he will bet his last pack of healing supplies that someone had a hand in helping the Moss grow here.
"Wait!"
He sighs. He's been so immersed in watching the blue-green shimmer that he has, for the most part, ignored the sounds and smells around him.
Plamen sides a glance over the shoulder just to see Vid slowly approaching him, half of his dark hair stuck with the bandage tape and the rest lose and swaying with each step made in a careful manner. Though, this time he holds a brown leather bag in his hand by its strap and a silver buckle reflects light right into Plamen's eyes. Oh, so Vid has started thinking.
Blinking away the blinding blue reflection of light, Plamen turns around to face him. "What do you want?"
Vid visibly splutters, flapping one arm around like it means something, and then finally, after painfully boring fifteen seconds of idiocy, he manages to whimper through his teeth, "I followed you--no, not like that--it's just..." Vid's heterochromatic eyes flash with fear as he looks away. "...the trees are evil. T-This path is pure."
So, I was right. With that thought, a smile almost breaks through Plamen's bored expression, but he keeps under wraps.
"And?" Plamen asks, plain and simple.
"Umm, we should, like, join forces or something," Vid squeaks out, voice trembling. Plamen can see his hand shaking but then he coils it tightly into a fist. "It's pretty dark in here."
So, this year's favorite is not only a coward but also afraid of the dark to the point of practically pleading to team up with a rival during the test. Though he did brave to propose such an idea, Plamen must grant him that much.
Plamen could also use this in the future, but if he outright agrees it may sound suspicious.
"I'm not guaranteeing anything," he answers, twirling on his heel. "Try to keep up."
With another glare shot over his shoulder, he continues walking down the gibbous, moss-covered tunnel.
Vid follows. It's obvious from the light footsteps crunching the dirt and pebbles on the ground behind him.
Plamen isn't sure where and when they'll part ways but he hopes that the other Dragon Heir will stay tight-lipped for the duration of their joint journey. Vid obviously doesn't think the same.
"Are you one of the willing participants or unwilling?" Vid asks and Plamen can almost hear, like me? as a continuation of that question.
Plamen doesn't really know Vid. Oh, sure, he's seen him around Zmajeva Zvijezda, but just like living in any large town, one cannot really know everyone. And Vid isn't one of the people Plamen's ever had the urge to spend time with. After this revelation, even less. Someone who is blessed with strength passed down through a powerful Clan is the unwilling participant in this examination...? Agh.
Annoying.
"Willing," he answers calmly.
And his words are true, for he has trained hard, sometimes even to the point of exhaustion, just for this moment, for this opportunity, where he could call upon his true strength, unleash his power without fearing someone would call him out for being unnatural.
What a sorry bunch the dragons are, confined to the human bodies and chasing after myths; yet there's him, the one whose curse is dissolving, giving him the ability to tap into the true dragon's strength, albeit just a little.
Yana told him he's been chosen by gods, but he doesn't believe that bullcrap. He may have been chosen or maybe it's just a mistake, he doesn't care one bit, he just wants to use this test to manage what the great Borislav did all that time ago. To climb to the top of the food chain and lead the dragon race back to their stolen glory. To beat goddess Nužda, the one who cast the curse.
Even Borislav, the greatest warrior of their history, failed that task. And when he was beaten, he disappeared. Probably dead in some ditch.
That may as well be Plamen's own destiny if he continues down this path. Yet he still wants to try, dying or not.
He realizes he's been staring at nothing as he thought. Vid is still walking beside him, keeping up with his somewhat slowing gate, and staring at him with surprise written in every line of his face.
Oh, for the love of Gods! Every dragonling should be ecstatic to even participate in such an event as The Grand Test of Power, the requirement to pass to even think of challenging the blasted goddess bitch. Yet he's marching side by side a coward who doesn't even want to participate. Plamen can almost feel his stomach churning at the thought.
Just when he wants to blurt out some derogatory remark, he feels a tingle in his awareness, so he shoves those thoughts out of his head.
There's a larger opening in front of them and drifts of air make him think there are more tunnels like this one ending in the same place as theirs does.
He slows down, silent as a feather, and holds his left hand spread out as a warning to Vid. Ah, the idiot smartly quiets down too.
As they inch toward the opening, his eyes scan the larger cave. It's easy to do so because the amount of moss arguably increased, lighting up the walls and curves and beginnings of other tunnels. He's sure he's felt something or someone just ahead—
"So you made it all the way here, too."