novelraw Chapter 88: Pale, Shifting White
Chapter 88: Pale, Shifting White
Blood flowed steadily from the joint, dripping onto the ground before evaporating.
By the time the last one fell, Mirek’s body was at its limit.
He looked up.
The sky had darkened.
The sun had begun to recede casting long, bruised shadows across the rocky plateaus.
Mirek looked at his ruined arm and his trembling hands, a wry smile touching his lips.
He realized he was simply not strong enough yet.
If he had been, he would have finished this sooner.
He would have already left this place and found Lavayla and Vai.
He stood for a moment longer before his strength gave out and he dropped to one knee.
He caught himself with his right hand, his fingers pressing against the heated rock as he steadied his body.
As the sun vanished completely, the air cooled, and the biting radiation finally stopped. No more silhouettes appeared.
He collapsed onto his back and lay still, his breathing slowing as exhaustion overtook him. His eyes closed gradually, his body too drained to maintain consciousness as it slipped away into a deep, dreamless void.
The following morning, the return of the stifling heat roused him.
Mirek pushed himself up slowly, sitting up with a groan, his body tense as he tested his movement.
His arm moved and he looked at it. To his surprise, the arm was fully attached, the skin smooth and the bone set.
He checked the rest of his body. Every other wound had vanished as well.
However, his stomach cramped with a hollow, gnawing ache, and his throat felt like it was lined with dry glass. Before he could seek out a source of water, more groups of beasts arrived in succession.
Five. Then six. Then eight. Then nine.
Each time, he fought.
Each time, he killed them.
By the time the moon rose, his body was broken again. He fell unconscious from a mixture of blood loss, exhaustion, hunger, and pain pressing against him all at once.
He woke in the middle of the night with a violent gasp, feeling as though he had been hauled out of a dark well. He sat up and saw a fresh pile of carcasses to his left, his body already halfway through the healing process.
As he steadied himself, something caught his attention.
A short distance away, a small arrangement of sticks lay stacked together. Beside it sat a large, roughly shaped mud bowl.
Mirek narrowed his eyes and pushed himself up, walking toward it slowly.
When he reached the bowl, he looked inside to see it filled to the brim with clear water
He paused.
How did it get here? Wait.
How did he get here?
The memory surfaced.
The forest. The mist. The sudden separation.
Then Shalika’s words followed.
"I do not know how the space chooses its successors, so do not be surprised when the time arrives."
Mirek exhaled slowly.
So this was the test.
He reached down and picked up the bowl with both hands. His grip tightened slightly as he lifted it, the weight noticeable in his weakened state.
He brought it to his mouth and drank.
The water flowed down his throat, cooling the dryness instantly.
When he finished, he set the bowl down and turned to the sticks.
He crouched and arranged them, recalling the way Lavayla had done it. His movements were rough, less precise, but steady. After several attempts, he managed to ignite a small flame.
Once the flames were licking at the dry wood, he moved to one of the edible carcasses.
He selected one, cutting into its thigh and pulling free a large piece of meat. He repeated the process for another, then found two sturdy sticks and pushed them through the flesh.
He rinsed them with water before placing them over the fire.
The meat began to cook. The scent of charring meat filled the air, and he ate with a primal hunger, fueling his body for the next sunrise.
From that point on, the pattern continued.
Every day was a blur of sun-scorched rock, the spray of beast blood, and the agonizing process of near-death and total recovery. This cycle became his reality for the next fifteen days.
The mountain of carcasses grew into a grisly monument around him. He lost massive amounts of blood every afternoon only to regain it every night.
By the twentieth day, no more beasts arrived after the first morning pack. Mirek sat by his fire that evening and realized his body felt different. His muscles were denser, his senses sharper, and the energy circulating through his veins felt twice as potent as it had been when he first entered the mist.
That night, he ate before lying down, falling into a deep sleep, and when he woke, the wasteland was gone.
He found himself standing in a silent, enclosed chamber with transparent walls. Outside, thick mist drifted in slow curls, obscuring the world beyond.
A disembodied voice resonated through the chamber, vibrating in his chest. "The second participating successor has passed his first trial. Due to the abruptness of the trial, a separate reward will be given after completing the second trial and inheriting the Ravine Mist space."
As the voice faded, the mist began to move.
It gathered from all directions, drifting inward in slow, steady waves before thickening into a dense veil. The transparent barrier around him started to lose its form, its surface blurring as the mist pressed against it.
The edges dissolved first.
Then, it was gradually consumed, its outline breaking apart as the mist swallowed it piece by piece. The walls thinned, faded, and then disappeared entirely, leaving nothing behind.
The mist closed in around Mirek, surrounding him completely until his vision was filled with pale, shifting white.
He stood still as it enveloped him.
Then, as quickly as it had gathered, everything went quiet.
When he opened his eyes again, he was no longer in the same place.
The air around him felt cool and light as it moved across his skin. He drew in a breath, and what entered his lungs was clean and smooth, carrying a faint unfamiliar scent.