Crown Of The Forgotten

Chapter 7: The First Trial

The morning came with a chill that seemed to seep into Arin’s bones. She awoke on the hard cot in the hidden basement, the shadows in the corners curling like smoke, waiting. Her arms ached, her head throbbed, and the memory of the chapel fight still pressed against her chest. Every movement she made reminded her of the blood she had spilled, the Watchers she had killed.

Kaelen was already awake, standing near the table, sharpening his sword. He looked calm, as if nothing had happened, but Arin could feel the tension in his body, tight and controlled like a bowstring.

“Get up,” he said. His voice was firm, leaving no room for argument.

Arin groaned and rolled onto her side. Her legs felt like lead, but she forced herself to her feet. Her gaze drifted to her hands, still trembling from the shadows’ power. She hated them, feared them, but she knew she could not run from them. Not anymore.

“Today,” Kaelen said, “we begin your first trial. A test of control, focus, and survival. You will learn how to bend the shadows without letting them bend you.”

Arin swallowed hard. Her stomach twisted. She wanted to ask what would happen if she failed, but the words stuck in her throat. She already knew.

Kaelen led her out into the streets, moving silently through alleys that twisted and turned like the veins of the city. Morning fog clung to the cobblestones, and the market stalls were just beginning to stir. Merchants shouted, carts rattled, and dogs barked in the distance, but Kaelen ignored it all. His eyes scanned the rooftops, the corners, every shadow.

“Where are we going?” Arin asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You’ll see,” Kaelen said. “The trial does not take place here. Follow me, and remember—control the shadows, or they will control you.”

They moved toward the outskirts of Kaelstead, where the buildings thinned and the fog gave way to overgrown ruins. Arin’s heart pounded in her chest. These ruins had always terrified her. Stories said that long ago, the city’s forgotten rulers had held dark ceremonies here. Some said spirits lingered, some said shadows themselves were thicker here.

Kaelen stopped at the edge of a wide courtyard, filled with crumbling statues and broken fountains. He turned to her, his expression sharp.

“This is where you begin,” he said. “You will face the shadows, your own blood, and your fear. Nothing here is real… yet everything can kill you if you are not careful.”

Arin’s knees wobbled. She wanted to run, to curl into the nearest alley and hide forever. But she forced herself to stand tall. The shadows inside her stirred, whispering, testing.

“Close your eyes,” Kaelen instructed. “Feel them. Let them flow through you. Do not resist.”

Arin closed her eyes, hands trembling. She drew a deep breath, listening to the whispers in her veins. They pulsed with a dark rhythm, winding around her thoughts, tugging at her memory, calling her to rise. She let them flow, letting the darkness curl around her limbs.

Rise.

Her body responded. A tendril of shadow stretched from her arms, coiling and twisting like smoke, moving with her heartbeat. She gasped at the sight, fear and awe battling inside her. Kaelen’s eyes watched her closely, reading every subtle motion, every flicker of fear.

“Good,” he said. “Now, step forward.”

Arin opened her eyes. The courtyard seemed to shift. Shadows lengthened unnaturally, twisting into forms that resembled figures—figures of people she had never met, people she had killed, people she feared might come for her.

Her heart raced. “I… I don’t know if I can—”

Kaelen’s voice cut through the fear. “Then let the shadows show you the way. Do not run. Do not fight. Guide them.”

The shadows surged. Arin stumbled, nearly falling, but she forced herself upright. She let them move through her, guiding them toward shapes that rose from the stone. A figure lunged at her, and she reflexively swung her dagger. The shadow around her moved with her, striking first, then retracting.

Her breath came in sharp gasps. Her legs trembled. The courtyard seemed alive, the statues twisting in the corners, the fog thickening around her. The shadows whispered louder, urging her to move faster, strike harder.

Hours seemed to pass in minutes. Sweat stung her eyes, her arms burned, her legs quaked. But slowly, painfully, she began to feel a rhythm. The shadows were no longer something alien inside her—they were an extension of herself. She moved as they moved, struck as they struck, and for the first time, she felt a spark of control.

Kaelen’s voice echoed through the courtyard. “Enough!”

The figures vanished, the shadows retreated, and the courtyard returned to its ruined state. Arin fell to her knees, gasping, covered in sweat and grime, trembling from exhaustion.

Kaelen approached, sheath in hand, and offered her a hand. She took it, letting him pull her to her feet.

“You survived,” he said simply. “But this was only the first trial. You will face harder challenges. Real enemies will not wait for you to learn.”

Arin’s chest heaved. She wanted to collapse again, but she forced herself to stand. The shadows inside her hummed quietly now, obedient, patient. She didn’t fully understand them yet, but she had survived. That was enough for now.

Kaelen’s eyes softened slightly. “Rest. Tomorrow, the lessons continue. You will learn to control the shadows in real combat, in the streets, with the Watchers and worse waiting. You are marked, Arin Vale, and there is no turning back. But you are learning. That is what matters.”

Arin nodded weakly, fear and determination mingling in her chest. She had survived the first trial. But she knew this was only the beginning. The crown had chosen her. The shadows had claimed her. And Kaelstead would not forgive mistakes.

Arin collapsed onto the cold stone of the courtyard, her chest heaving, sweat dripping down her face. The shadows that had swirled around her earlier now pulsed faintly in her veins, quiet, patient, waiting. She wanted to touch her arms, feel them again, but fear rooted her to the ground. The power inside her was intoxicating, frightening, and she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.

Kaelen crouched beside her, eyes scanning her face. “You controlled them,” he said softly. “Just barely. But that control is enough for now. Remember this feeling. Remember that you can do it. Even if it scares you.”

Arin swallowed hard, tears stinging her eyes. “It’s… it’s too much. I can’t even think straight. The shadows—they’re everywhere. I can’t tell what’s me and what’s them.”

Kaelen reached out, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “That is exactly what this trial is for. You will learn to separate yourself from them while still using them. Think of them as part of your body, part of your mind. They are not you, but they respond to you. You guide, you direct, you bend. Not the other way around.”

Her stomach twisted. She hated hearing that. It felt as though her entire existence had been stolen from her—her body, her mind, even her soul. And now she was expected to master it.

“Am I supposed to like this? To enjoy it?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Kaelen shook his head. “No. You are not meant to enjoy it. You are meant to survive. That is enough. The shadows are tools, nothing more. Nothing less. You must learn to respect them, to fear them, and to command them without hesitation.”

Arin nodded slowly, though she didn’t feel reassured. The courtyard was silent except for her ragged breathing. She could hear the wind moving through the broken statues, hear the faint echo of distant footsteps on stone. Every noise made her heart leap.

Kaelen stood and gestured to the far side of the courtyard. “Another test. You must move through the ruins and strike the targets with precision. The shadows will assist, but only if you allow them. Fail, and you will know the consequences.”

Arin’s stomach knotted. “Consequences?”

Kaelen’s eyes darkened. “The shadows can protect you. But if you panic, hesitate, or falter, they can—and will—turn against you. This is not just practice. This is survival.”

Her hands shook as she gripped her dagger. She closed her eyes and focused, letting the shadows coil around her fingers like living smoke. Her heartbeat slowed, the whisper inside her blood growing more insistent: Rise.

She moved forward, stepping lightly over broken stone and rubble. The shadows followed, extending from her arms like tendrils, curling and stretching toward the small wooden targets Kaelen had set up across the ruins. Her dagger hummed with the same dark rhythm, pulsing like a heartbeat in her hand.

The first target rose from the ground, a crude figure of straw and cloth. Arin’s dagger moved almost on its own, guided by the shadows. It struck the figure dead center. A shiver ran through her body, equal parts exhilaration and fear.

The second target appeared, moving faster, dodging slightly as though alive. Arin’s eyes widened. She hesitated, and the shadows surged, tugging her arm. She wrenched control, focusing on the rhythm, and her dagger hit its mark.

Each target became harder, faster, more unpredictable. The ruins themselves seemed to shift and change, stones moving beneath her feet, fog thickening, shadows rising unnaturally from the cracks. Her muscles burned, her lungs screamed, but she pressed on, letting the shadows guide her without surrendering to them.

By the fifth target, she was drenched in sweat, her arms trembling. But she struck true, guided by the whispers in her blood, feeling for the first time a flicker of mastery. She gasped, falling to her knees, the adrenaline leaving her body in a wave of exhaustion.

Kaelen approached, sheath in hand. “Enough. You have passed the first part. You may not feel victorious, but you survived. That is what matters.”

Arin shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I… I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

Kaelen’s gaze softened. “You are still Arin Vale. But you are more now. The shadows have marked you, yes—but that mark does not define you. How you respond to it does.”

Arin looked around at the ruins, at the faintly curling shadows around her limbs. She wanted to hate them, to run from them, to throw herself into the city and vanish. But a small, terrifying part of her—a part she did not yet understand—was exhilarated. She had survived. She had bent the shadows, guided them, commanded them.

For the first time, she realized that survival might not just mean staying alive. It might mean becoming something else. Something stronger. Something feared.

Kaelen’s voice broke her thoughts. “Tomorrow, we continue. The Watchers are still out there, and they will not forget what happened at the chapel. You are marked. And that mark makes you a target.”

Arin nodded slowly. Fear and determination mingled inside her. The first trial was over, but she knew it was only the beginning.

Outside, the city stretched in silence, fog curling over rooftops and alleys. Somewhere, the Watchers waited, patient, relentless. And inside her blood, the shadows whispered again:

Rise.

Arin Vale closed her eyes, gripping her dagger tightly. She had survived the first trial. And she would rise again.