Chapter 58: Chapter. 55.1: Interlude: A Path of Roaring Flames (3)

The words of the clearance still remained in his mind, he had been laying on the ground, for⁠— well who knows for long, Matt certainly had lost track of time. He had yet to eat anything, and he was thirsty too, but in this land of ashes and coal, where could he even find such things? Matt felt a small wave of glee upon clearing the first stage, relief almost. But, even though he wished to just lay down and do nothing, it was an impossibility. If he failed to clear the trial, he would die, it was as simple as that.

A small sigh left him, the sweat all over his body felt cold. His skin was filled with coal and ash, his shoulder was still bleeding, and his potions? Well it seemed like he had none, at least his satchel was empty. He didn’t remember drinking them, but they were certainly missing. Perhaps it was part of the trial in of itself, that was a possibility, but his marred shoulder still screamed, shouted at him to do something about it. Matt took a deep breath and finally stood up, his wound still throbbed enough to give him a headache, his eyes darted around looking for something but found emptiness⁠—the ashen land simply greeted him and Matt couldn’t help but curse himself.

He was hoping to find a branch and light it up on fire to then cauterize his wound, granted, he was unsure about how well that actually worked, just as how he talked too much about guns to Blair in spite of never touching one. Matt took a look around and found nothing, the forest was empty and the ground was still a mix of pale stone, stone-gray ash, and the familiar black charcoal. He shook his head, and reached for his bow to his side⁠— his hand found empty air. Matt’s wariness grew and skeptically looked around leaving no crevice unchecked on his sight, but no matter where he glanced or looked, there was no compound bow, there were no arrows to be found at his waist, and there was no satchel to accompany them. He was⁠— had he been hallucinating? Matt frowned and looked around, he still had his shirt over his face, shoes and pants as well. Just⁠, no equipment it seemed.

He grabbed the rocks from the ground and flicked them together, sparks flew as if they were ferro rods. He was now in the second stage of the trial, and looking around he found nothing but the smoke lines on the sky⁠—the campsites remained⁠—it seemed that it was probably related to that, but he was still curious. Matt approached a tree and with the stones in his hands he produced a spark, they flew towards the tree and in an instant it combusted⁠—exploded into a torrent of burning flames, but just as fast as it had come⁠—it had disappeared. The tree vanished into nothing but ash not even a second later. Matt was confused, perplexed one could say, but his mind felt weary and his body ached, so when a shadow streaked across his face his head buzzed, his ears rang, and he⁠— he opened his eyes, and once more, he stood up.

His body felt cold as he reached for his bow. He still had a small buzz within his ears, but he saw nothing and strangely enough, the tree that he had approached was gone, but he, himself, was back in his original position as if he had never moved. Matt stowed the bow on his back and grabbed another pair of stones, but this time something else happened⁠—his ears were deafened by a magnificent howl from behind, and as he turned he saw; seven, eight⁠— no, nine.

[Wolfe.]

[Wolfe.]

[Wolfe.]

Matt’s breathing stalled as he held the stones within his hands, he could easily fend off one wolf, but two, three, all nine of them? If there was more than one he was destined to die. The wolves snarled and once more tried to pounce on him with the same predictable attacks. Matt trotted back dodging them and began a light jog to the nearest campsite. He didn’t know how exactly he was going to kill all nine wolves, he did not even know if killing them was part of the goal, but he would manage somehow. The torture of knowing there was a beast that constantly tried to kill him had already gotten to him.

He traveled. He was definitely lacking sleep since he could've sworn about ten wolves had pounced him already only to vanish into nothingness. Sweat dripped down his mouth cover, his tongue tasted nothing but salt and his neck felt overheated. Everything felt heated. Nonetheless, the billowing smoke trail got closer and closer, there were no hallucinations but his feet hurt, every step felt like walking through sandpaper. Gritty. Uncomfortable. Painful. It didn't take long before he finally reached the camp, where the tower stood.

He approached it and without a second thought slammed the rocks creating sparks, fiery wisps. They flew and touched the carbonized wood and in an instant it ignited. Bloomed. The wood was consumed and turned into nothing but Ash.

[Progress: 1 out of 9.]

Matt's enjoyment froze as he heard a wail of pain behind him. His head snapped and saw the group of wolves at almost attacking distance but one of them had died. There were nine wolves, and nine campfires. He smiled as he felt the stones in his hands, he was unsure if they were called flint— a headache crept up on him as his vision darkened. The growls of the wolves brought him back to reality, or at least enough for him to move. Within his hazy vision he saw ghosts, ethereal representations of things. He saw a matchstick strike through sandpaper and ignite. He saw spontaneous combustion—

The visions stopped.

What was that? Matt held his head as pain lingered. The flint within his remaining hand felt more familiar than ever. No, he had no use thinking about that. Matt moved at the best of his abilities, his stomach growled and his body felt devoid of life. The wolves however still walked after him, menacingly. Things were awful, there was no grass for him to touch— no places to relax or sleep. But he continued and persevered, quickly finding the next campfire and heading in its direction.

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