Thanks for waiting. Hope you like the chapter! Quick note about Marcela's chapter - Nina and Varris were killed in Book 3. They will soon be replaced with two new party members once I get round to editing it. Nina will be a lightning sorcerer, and Varris a metal bending tank, so it'll read very similar.
Hump entered the chamber to the Trial of Persistence with Walt at his side. They could only travel so many hours each day along the fractured pathways between realms, and he had found himself coming here often in his downtime. The familiarity of the lich’s phylactery was surprisingly comforting while travelling the abyss. At least here, the ground was solid and essence behaved as he expected.
Loften set a swift pace, but it was quickly becoming clear that the Path to Heaven was not some well-marked road awaiting them. For four days, they had wandered through fragments of decaying realms, or others that were only in their infancy. Places where land was forming before their very eyes, or the gravity tilted strangely, or skies without suns, and horizons that were folding back upon themselves.
It was impossible to keep track of time, so they relied on their exhaustion levels instead. Their limit came faster than one would think of Chosen and practitioners. Without a consistent supply of essence to draw on, it was tiresome. Not quite as bad as moving through the Remnant Realm, but far from pleasant.
And during his rest, Hump didn’t stop either. If they were to face to gods soon, he wanted to use every spare moment he had to consolidate his strength.
While Plague Zombie Tom—as Hump had taken to calling him—was intended to be a target for Lich Queen Irila to destroy, he had found a far better use for it. One that didn’t result in the agonised screams of another being.
The plague domain contained inside the zombie was so powerful that it took every shred of will Hump had to withstand it. He had promised he would free the soul trapped inside, but to reach it, he needed to harden himself. So, each day, he came here, to the small chamber in the back.
Each time, he read the message left behind by Gius on the plaque on the wall:
TRIAL OF PERSISTENCETHE FLESH WILL ROT, BUT ONE’S SPIRIT MUST NOT. THIS SPAWN IS BORN OF MY WILL, SHAPED FROM ROT AND BONE. STRIKE IT DOWN AND IT WILL RISE AGAIN. HONE YOUR SKILLS, SHARPEN YOUR CRAFT AND FIND A WAY TO TRULY UNMAKE IT.
It was a reminder of just how cruel Irila’s father had been. He had bound a soul in a prison of flesh for his daughter to torment.
And now Hump would set it free.
“Evening, Tom,” Hump said, stepping into the Trial of Persistence chamber. “Actually, I have no idea if it’s evening.”
Plague Zombie Tom stood where he always did—slouched, swollen, blistered skin weeping slow trails of rot. The stench hit Hump immediately, thick and sour. The creature’s dull eyes remained fixed somewhere beyond him, unseeing.
“We’re currently between realms,” Hump continued conversationally. “I know that probably means nothing to you, but the point is it’s impossible to track time here. We pass through one place in the night and in another the sky is bright as day, but there is no sun. I don’t even know if day or night exist in these places.”
He folded his arms, studying the zombie’s unmoving face.
“I’m not sure this is working at all,” Walt said. “We’ve got some statues in this place with more brains than him.”
“There is a soul in him,” Hump said. “I can sense it more and more every time I try to wedge my way through whatever sickness Gius forged this prison out of.”
“Yeah, but you’ve been at this for a month, kid. Maybe it’s time to try something else.”
“You don’t think he likes the conversation?”
“Don’t think he’s even listening! Trust me, I’ve talked his ears off by this point. Eyes are the windows to the soul, and those—” Walt raised his palms and swiped them apart. “—blank as a sheet.”
Hump snorted. “Well, we don’t lose anything by trying.”
He exhaled slowly. While he didn’t admit it, the talking was a stall tactic. The next step was so unpleasant that every fibre of his being resisted. This time was to pump himself up for the next attempt.
Each time, he pressed his will into the black, plague-ridden core, it dragged him back into that world of sickness—into that choking, putrid landscape where the very air felt infectious. It wasn’t just unpleasant. It was invasive. The deeper he pushed, the more he felt something trying to seep into him in return.
He feared that if he forced it, his own soul might become infected too.
But it was not for nothing. That world of sickness was a domain forged by a god, and each time, Hump gained a little more insight into what it was.
“I really do wish talking to it was enough,” Hump said.
Walt gave a dry snort. “If talking could solve everything, I wouldn’t be stuck here.”
Hump huffed a quiet laugh despite himself.
“Right,” Walt said. “Well, I do want to take a step back. Yeah, actually I’ll be in the other room.”
He glanced at Walt, eyebrow raised.
“Well,” Walt said, wrinkling his nose, “you have no idea how bad this place reeks by the time you’re done. The entire room goes green.”
Hump blinked. “The room turns green?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“What do you mean, why?” Walt shot back. “You’re in the room with me. You can’t pay attention?”
“I’m focused on getting into his soul!”
“Oh. Well… it goes green. What does it matter?”
“That power is inside of him,” Hump said.” If the room’s turning green, it means something. Maybe he’s trying to manifest his soul, or it’s simply leaking out. Did you see anything else?”
“Nah,” Walt said with a small shake of his head. “Once everything starts going green, I tend to take a step back. I don’t know how you put up with it.”
Hump turned back to Plague Zombie Tom.
Neither do I, he thought, but didn’t voice. Instead, he said, “However bad it is for us, it’s worse for the soul trapped inside.”
That was all the motivation Hump needed to get started. Walt retreated to the rear of the chamber, while Hump focused on Tom. It was easier for him to find that spark in the zombie now. He didn’t need much, just a sliver of intent to lock onto before diving into the plague domain. A point to guide him through the green fog.
The instant he was inside, Hump felt sick. His body heated up as if fevered. In every direction, all he saw was the putrid green of plague essence. He did his best not to breathe and began to plod forward as he had done so in the past. Each time, he felt he lasted a little longer. The walls he built around his soul became a little more solid and resistant to the seeping nature of the plague trying to infect him.
With each visit, he felt like he better understood this place. An understanding of what it truly meant to walk through another’s soul domain. It didn’t obey the rules of what was outside, but behaved in its own way, following its own intent. Or more specifically, Gius’ intent. Even after so many years, the plague god’s will was so powerful that simply trying to move through a domain corrupted by it felt almost impossible.
As his progress once more came to a halt, Hump stared around. It was impossible to tell if he’d made it farther this time, but he felt like he had. Surrounded by nothing but green fog, however, he felt like it was something he had sensed before.
And then it hit him. Gius wasn’t simply forcing his intent upon this domain. This wasn’t the projection of a soul. It was the embodiment. Gius hadn’t simply corrupted this soul, he had refoged it into something that took the form of his will. For Gius, that was the plague. For Hump… His mind returned to the ancient wolf dragon, Algwyn. She had given him a true name, and in that moment, he had seen a land of molten earth and fire surrounding him.
Ignarok, she had called him. Even thinking it sent heat through his blood, the dragon within waking.
And in that moment when she’d called him by that, he had seen a vision of molten earth and rivers of fire surrounding him. And at its centre, untouched by the blaze, stood himself. Cloak snapping in an unseen wind. Staff raised, a white flame erupting from it, piercing smoke and ash.
Myra, Celaine’s sister, had told him that a true name reflects a person’s heart. A person’s soul.
What if it was more than that?
What if Algwyn saw his soul’s potential? A clue to its potential and what he could become.
That was the key. If he were to breach the barrier of the seventh rank. If he were to ascend to the impossible, like the wizards of old and those of the Three Eyes, that was what he needed to do.
Not simply force his will upon the world. He needed to forge his will into a world itself.
With a thought, Hump manifested his soul, but this time it was different. He did not simply try and impose his intent upon the plague domain. Instead, he focused inward. The plague sought to corrupt him—to poison him just like it had Tom.
But one could not poison flame. One couldn’t poison the rivers of lava that flowed beneath one’s feet.
The world quaked around him. Heat manifested in scarlet streaks. The green fog of plague was pressed back as lava erupted from below. It didn’t go farther than Hump’s feet, but for the first time, the way was clearer. The pressure on his soul lessened. He could breathe without feeling like the very air would poison him.
He pressed forward, deeper into the plague domain, a new vigour to his step. Only it didn’t last. The deeper he went, the more powerful the domain became. He forced himself onward, grinding his teeth against the discomfort, his body roaring with the dragon in his blood. Hot with essence.
Ignarok, he repeated in his mind. The name pulsed through him like a heartbeat.
He stepped forward, lava hissing with each movement. The green fog thinned immediately around him, forced back by the embodiment of his will.
Ignarok.
In the distance, there was a change. For the first time, he saw a flash of blue amidst the green—pure, perfect essence.
A soul.
And then it was gone. The green fog pressed in with such force that Hump gasped. His fires were crushed beneath the terrifying intent. It closed in so hard and fast that he thought it would consume him.
Instinct took over. Hump withdrew his will, hardened the walls of his soul, and retreated. The green fog flew past in his mind like a sandstorm.
And then once more he was in the trial chamber. Exhausted, but elated.
Finally, he knew the next step forward.
When Hump left the phylactery, he had a smile on his face. That quickly changed when he saw the downtrodden faces of his friends, and the distraught altari. They were in a fragment realm of thick moss like ground surrounded by spindly trees in all directions. Light filled the sky, but here, they were fairly shaded and it had made for a good place to stop and rest.
“What happened?” Hump asked.
Celaine let out a long sigh, Nishari rolling her head in her lap to look at Hump. “Loften is gone.”
Hump frowned. “What do you mean he’s gone?”
“He just left,” Celaine said. “Packed up all his constructs and artifacts and vanished through a rift. Told us he’s sure we’ll meet again.”
“You’re kidding.” Hump’s stomach dropped.
“Nope,” Emilia snapped. “We’re stranded here.”