The first horn of the trial had sounded, and Ashara felt it travel through his bones before his ears fully recognized it. He heard it clearly, the deep and measured call that felt less like a signal and more like a statement, perhaps even a challenge.

  Begin, it seemed to whisper.

  The ground beneath him was made of tough hide and solid roots. It felt warm and slightly springy, like treading on muscle. The surface gave way slightly under his weight but stayed strong. It didn’t feel like stone or dirt.

  Ashara lowered his stance automatically. He kept his knees bent, his spine straight, and his tail relaxed for balance. He shut his eyes for a moment to concentrate as the arena noise quieted. The cheering and the sound of clinking armor faded away, replaced by a new sound.

  Initially, it was faint, but it soon became clear. He recognized the steady, heavy beat of the city. It felt like a slow, ancient heartbeat. Ashara opened his eyes as the second horn blew and the arena floor began to drop.

  Heat climbed immediately, crawling up his legs and settling into his lungs. Amber veins beneath the surface brightened, threading the arena floor in deliberate patterns.

  Then the third horn sounded, and the weight arrived.

  He felt it not as an immediate impact and not as a force falling from above. It simply appeared, with the thickening air and the pressure that dragged the space inward.

  His spine compressed slightly, as though the land itself were asking him a question it already knew the answer to.

  How do you intend to stand?

  Ashara exhaled and let the weight settle instead of fighting it. Fighting was rather foolish and a waste of energy, but giving in meant failure. He focused on staying balanced right in the middle, even though it was hard to do.

  He did not have the luxury of looking around freely, but he could sense it. He could hear it. He could see fragments from the corners of his vision.

  Around him, others lost control of their bodies. Some fell instantly. Many survived the initial shock, but their knees gave out or their muscles tensed up too much. Someone cursed under their breath. He saw a wolf-kin drop to one knee, shocked by the sudden pull of gravity. The wolf growled as he forced himself to stand back up.

  Ashara did not continue watching.

  He could hear and feel them failing as their bodies hit the ground heavily after Ashara stopped watching the others. He could hear and feel them failing as their bodies hit the ground heavily after after struggled to stay up.

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  Alignment.

  Elder Kharesh’s voice surfaced in his memory.

  Not strength. Never strength first.

  The arena tilted.

  It was subtle yet the ground sloped and twisted before breaking apart into segmented plates. They shifted independently. Candidates now had to fight instability layered atop the crushing weight. Some adapted quickly. Many did not.

  Ashara took a slow, careful half-step to adjust. He corrected his stance and shifted his weight early, staying ahead of the pressure before the ground could force him to move.

  The arena shifted again. Plates slid as the weight redistributed unevenly.

  The weight did not increase further. The duration did.

  This was where most of them would break.

  Suddenly Ashara felt it.

  A presence not far from him. They were heavy, dense and unforgiving.

  Ashara’s jaw tightened before his thoughts caught up.

  Rhazek.

  The boar-kin stood perfectly still and stiff, his muscles tight and his spine locked in place.

  While Ashara kept moving smoothly, Rhazek’s posture finally slipped. His left knee dipped slightly before he forced it back up using pure strength, but because he lost his balance for a moment, the arena’s pressure hit him even harder.

  He growled. The sound dragged something old and sharp from Ashara’s memory.

  Rain-soaked and muddy ground.

  His Horns hit him like a heavy ram.

  Impact cracking ribs.

  And Rhazek standing over him, looking more disappointed than happy.

  Too soft, that look had said.

  Ashara swallowed and forced the memory down.

  The arena floor vibrated again, nearly knocking Rhazek down. It was a test of his strength.

  Rhazek stayed upright, but his muscles shook and he gritted his teeth. Every instinct in him screamed to push harder.

  Then, the floor panels shifted slightly, breaking everyone's rhythm. Several people fell at once. One person tried to jump, but the gravity intensified instantly and slammed him into the ground.

  He was out.

  Ashara stayed low and kept his breathing steady. He wasn't trying to look tough; he just wanted to pass. His movements were small and efficient, making them hard to notice.

  Rhazek was slower to adapt, but he was smart about it. He widened his stance and lowered his weight to endure the pressure.

  Gllancing at Rhazek, Ashara felt a flash of anger before he regain his focus. A part of him thought Rhazek should have fallen by now because he never learned—not in the past, and not today.

  The air got hotter and time seemed to slow down. The arena stopped shifting, which was the hardest part. This is when most people truly broke because of exhaustion or because their minds gave up before their bodies did.

  Ashara crouched low with his knees just above the floor, keeping his breath steady. Across the arena, Rhazek was shaking from the strain. Ashara looked at him, and Rhazek immediately stared back with a dark, aggressive look. Ashara looked away ignoring him.

  Finally, the horn blew and the heavy pressure disappeared.

  Ashara fell to one knee, gasping for air. The world suddenly felt strange and too light for him. He rested his hands on his thighs, waited for his blurry vision to clear, before steadying himself and rising back to his feet.

  Nearby, Rhazek stumbled forward a step. The boar-kin was breathing heavily and looked furious, but he stayed on his feet and stayed focused.

  Handlers moved, checking and counting the remaining participants.

  Amid the cheers and applause of the audience, Ashara turned slowly and began walking toward the gate. In his mind there was no triumph, only a faint sense of relief.

  Behind him, he felt Rhazek’s stare burn between his shoulders.

  He ignored it.

  He knew this wasn’t finished. This was just a beginning.

  And he would look forward to it. The next time they stood against each other—whether in combat, or blood.

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