But with their defeat and extinction looming, the vampires tried to create more of their kind. In their desperation they turned to humanity. Their experiments bore fruit, except the fruit was rotten to the core. They came out of the wyrmweald so we call them the wyrm. The spark of humanity is missing from their eyes. They are half human and half vampire but humans and even vampires can be beautiful creatures. The wyrm are dimwitted, ugly, deformed freaks. Neither human nor vampire. Their minds have been rent asunder. They are consumed by their base desires and their desire to consume is insatiable.

  I refused to let them in for the simple fact that their continued existence means our demise.

  They cannot survive without our blood. My blood is sacred to me and must be protected at any cost.

  -Harald Erling, as dictated to Leif Olander

  ***

  “Leap into the darkness. Your mind, your body, and your magic will be tested. Learn quickly, adapt quickly, and survive. Keep pushing forward. Time works differently in the Temple so don’t be alarmed. Also, you can eat the moss.”

  Leif gave him a quizzical look.

  “I will be helping Harald carry out his plans in Maedelund. Depending on how long it takes you, you may have missed all the fun by the time you return. Remember, you have everything you need to make it through.” Vigo tapped him on his forehead with his last line; harder than was necessary, Leif thought.

  Vigo had stuffed a fine new coat and a large sack of dried meats, berries, bread, and hard cheese into Leif’s saddle bag then they had both mounted up at dawn. Vigo had led him out the northern gate of the city and into the countryside. They followed the coastline northwards. It seemed Vigo was trying to give him as much information as possible without actually revealing anything.

  “Why the urgency, Vigo? Why now?”

  “Because I see no reason to delay once I’ve deemed you ready. I told you this was coming and now it is here.”

  He released a long exhale, “and, because the world is sick, Leif. If we have the will, we are the cure. There are so few of us left. An evil worse than the Bakkens spreads and I would like your assistance in cleansing it. I don’t know exactly when we’ll be needed, but it will be soon. The world needs wizards. The sooner you are ready, the sooner we can find more.”

  “What can the temple teach me that you cannot?”

  Vigo laughed, “well for one, when we train you know that you are safe. I’m not going to kill you. The temple has no such scruples. Beyond that, the temple used to be the only path to becoming a wizard. By completing it, you’re joining a brotherhood of men who have overcome great difficulty. It is no small thing. I cannot explain it to you because every experience is different - some parts I could share but I am honor-bound to discretion until you’ve returned. Other parts will be different, so I couldn’t help you anyway. I will only add that the pain, the fear, and the suffering is the point. Don’t overthink it. Just survive.”

  They reached the crest of a hill. It was still early but a few wagons and horses could be seen traversing their same road. Vigo stopped, “This is as far as I go. My bride will be waiting for me,” he said with a wink, “Don’t die, Leif. I will be watching for your return.” With that Vigo turned his horse and galloped back to Danaria.

  It hadn’t been a particularly warm sendoff but that wasn’t altogether unexpected from the wizard.

  Leif took in the view of the city for one more moment before continuing on alone. Being back on a horse felt hollow and uncomfortable compared to Danaria. He felt that he’d spoiled his chances with Karalee. He should have sought her out more, tried to spend more time with her.

  Leif hadn’t said goodbye to her. He hoped she would think of him when he was gone but he supposed that was wishful thinking. She hadn’t said anything after their dance. Leif had walked her back to her seat. She had said goodnight to him, and retired for the evening.

  Earlier that morning, Estrid had hugged him. Harald had wished him good luck and said he would see him when he returned. Leif was surprised and grateful that the king and princess had awoken to see him off.

  Leif mused over the writing he had been doing for Harald. On the surface, scribing for the king would typically be beneath him, as a member of the aristocracy, and yet he found that he enjoyed it. Having a task for the king outside of his training gave him a purpose that felt important. The writing was a relief from the training and a release for his mind. He absorbed as much as he could.

  Hearing Harald’s story from the king’s own perspective was enlightening and intimidating. Harald’s convictions were absolute and forged over decades of one hardship after another. Leif was disappointed that he would be pausing his duties for the next several weeks or months or however long it took for him to complete the temple.

  The chill of the morning was actually pleasant from under the heavy cloak he wore. The sword Vigo had given him from the first wizard they had encountered peaked up over his shoulder. He realized that he felt a certain confidence on this journey that he hadn’t felt when he set out from his home in Maedelund. His newfound power and abilities had become a part of him. Despite feeling like he was constantly falling and tripping over himself in the tasks he was given; despite his humiliating loss to Magnus, he felt…proud of himself.

  He continued northeast, following the coastline. Vigo had offered to put him on a ship for part of the journey until the northern apex of the Kilden but there were fewer villages that far north and he wanted a sturdy horse for his trek up the mountain.

  A breeze came up off the cold waters of the Kilden. It lanced through the tightly woven fibers of his coat like a blade through flesh. He started to pull his cloak around himself then paused. He unslung his cloak, drew off his coat and tucked it into his pack. He pulled on the new coat Vigo had given him then re-slung his cloak around himself. His body warmed almost immediately and he kicked his horse into a light trot, already eager to return to Danaria.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  ***

  Leif tucked himself behind a tree and consulted the map that Vigo had given him yet again. It was surprisingly descriptive. The mountain was covered with ancient trees that sprung out from between sheets of rocks and boulders. He’d been climbing for most of the day and was roughly halfway to the peak. He closed his eyes against the weariness he felt from so many days of travel. His body felt stiff and he yearned for his room in Danaria. He found it humorous that he desired to be there rather than his home in Maedelund. He wished he could send one more letter to his mother. He wished he could see Karalee one last time.

  He’d left his horse stabled in the small village at the base of the mountain called Aurhaven. He’d stayed a night in the small but comfortable inn. The people there were kind but quiet, all except for the innkeeper. The man had put an arm around Leif and said, “when you return lad, you’re welcome to as much of that cask as you can drink. No charge,” his finger pointed towards a large barrel of ale behind the bar. Leif thought he’d intended the comment to be friendly and encouraging but there had been a trace of sadness in his voice.

  Leif had left early the next morning. The mountain wasn’t as large as some but it was steep enough that his feet would be more effective than trying to climb on horseback. He had no idea how long he would be gone and he hoped the stablemaster wouldn't try to sell his horse before he returned.

  Leif lowered the parchment and looked out from behind his hiding spot. Not twenty yards away, down a path through the rocks and trees was an opening in the mountain that was perfectly depicted on Vigo’s map. Two large columns framed the opening. Swirling weaves were carved into the stone columns. The weaves became finer and finer as they swirled to the top of the frame where sat the carved stone face of a man. The weaves came together to form his beard but it was his eyes that struck Leif. They bore no pupil or iris but somehow seemed to be staring straight at him. The effect was unnerving but it wasn’t quite his immediate concern.

  Just above the opening lounged what could only be described as a giant. He was at least twice as tall as Leif. He wore a dark blue tunic edged in gold thread. His dark cinnamon hair and beard were thick but well groomed. One of his legs draped over the opening to the temple, the sandaled foot gently brushing against the dirt at the entrance.

  The giant played an oddly shaped wind instrument. It seemed to be a type of whistle but it was fitted to his hands rather than the other way around. The song he played was eerie and beautiful. It reminded him of the evening…of twilight for some reason. It was like a lullaby. He was certain he’d never heard a song like it before and yet it was strangely familiar. Like he’d known it all his life.

  He’d heard of the giants of the far north. They mostly kept to themselves. They weren’t known to be violent or dangerous but most humans avoided them just in case. Leif didn’t know any of them ever ventured this far south. He reached up over his shoulder and quietly loosened his sword in its scabbard, just in case.

  Leif took a deep breath. He held it for a moment before releasing it all and stepped out from behind the tree, in full view of the doorway and the giant.

  The giant looked at him but continued playing, unconcerned and unsurprised.

  Pack in hand, Leif warily walked towards him.

  When he was close enough, the giant stopped playing. “I was wondering how long you’d stay behind that tree. I haven’t seen one of your kind in some time.” His voice was deep. Deeper than any Leif had heard in a man. It wasn’t lumbering or guttural as he’d expected. Though he didn’t speak loudly Leif had no trouble hearing the words clearly.

  “Do you guard the temple?”

  The giant snorted, then laughed, then stepped off and stood before Leif at his full height. Leif had underestimated him. He was closer to three times Leif’s height. He was raw power and grace and walked like the earth itself moved with him, moved for him, as if only by his approval. His eyes were sharp and shone brightly with intelligence.

  The giant then looked straight at Leif with violence in his eyes. His loud voice boomed even more than before, “if you want to reach the temple, you have to kill me first.” The giant’s form came alight. He held his hand up and bright, blinding lightning filled it. Bolts exploded out and raced around and through his body. The giant laughed maniacally as his body produced its own light and heat. His eyes blazed brighter than the brightness of the full moon on the darkest of nights.

  Leif stumbled back and ripped his sword out. His breath caught and his heartbeat pounded through him. He channeled as much of his magic into himself as he could possibly bear and poured all of it into the strongest shield he had ever created.

  The giant laughed all the harder. Then twisted his arm upwards. The sky darkened. A beam, flashing like a legion of lightning bolts crashed down around the giant and held. It flashed and sizzled, and seared and bathed the giant in divine light.

  Leif was frantic. He didn’t know what to do. The power he was witnessing was beyond anything he’d ever imagined. The giant looked back at him, hysterical laughter grating on Leif’s very bones, and raised his hand towards him. Behind his shield, Leif braced for the blow.

  It didn’t come. Instead, he felt his sword slip through his fingers. There was no resistance and no pain. His fingers never opened, the sword just moved through them. He stared at his fingers expecting them to have been severed but they were whole. It wasn’t possible. Leif’s blade then shot back through his shield like it was nothing more than air. The point of his sword buried itself in the ground next to the giant.

  At a wave of the giant’s hand, the pounding storm of light and heat ceased. The tranquility of the mountain and the trees returned with the exception of Leif’s thundering heartbeat.

  The giant smiled, “only a jest. I couldn’t help myself. I do not guard the temple. I come here for the view, and to play, and perhaps, very occasionally, to see a young wizard.”

  Leif couldn’t control his pounding heartbeat. He was sure the giant could hear it. He tried to take deep breaths to calm himself. He couldn’t imagine the power the giant held. He wished Vigo were here. Vigo had to know.

  “To terrify a young wizard, you mean,” Leif panted.

  “Perhaps I got carried away in the fun of it. Please accept my apology.”

  Leif tried to slow his heavy panicked breaths, bloody hell, he didn’t know what else to say, “Any tips for getting through?”

  The giant chuckled, “As they say, if your master is competent, you should have everything you need. I wish you good luck.” The giant turned to leave then stopped and turned back to Leif, “If you make it out and I’m not around, please leave a sign so I know you made it, purely for my own interest.” Leif was about to respond when the giant flicked a finger towards him. Wind spun and swirled and shot towards Leif. In an instant, it crashed into him but he didn’t feel the strike physically at all. Wind swirled around him for just a moment before it became quiet and calm once more. He felt a light swelling through him and all his weariness was gone. It was replaced with warmth and energy. Leif’s whole body relaxed. He felt reinvigorated, and strong. He looked at the giant in amazement. “Th-Thank you.”

  The giant winked as he turned and continued down the mountain.

  Leif watched him go for a moment, still rattled by the interaction, before turning to the doorway behind him. He examined the weaves and the face at the top that still seemed to be looking at him. Now that he was closer he could see there were small birds and leaves and strange characters carved into the weaves. Leif assumed there was some meaning behind them but he didn’t know it, perhaps the meaning had been lost to time and the memories of dead mages.

  He stepped through the doorway. Exquisitely carved statues of men, wizards he assumed, lined the wall on his left. Some held a chalice, or a torch, or a lantern, and some just held out an empty hand, palm facing upwards. The statues continued into a deep darkness beyond. He walked until his eyes strained. The light from outside only traveled so far. He needed light. He needed a torch. He retraced his steps to the mouth of the cave. The first statue held a torch in his left hand. The statue’s right hand was held up before him, as if inviting him to embrace. Leif looked around for a moment, then grasped the hand of the statue. He felt a warm vibration. He channeled his magic and felt the familiar flow of power into him. The vibration intensified. He looked at the torch, then into the eyes of the statue. He kept his hand grasped with the statue then, as a test, he gradually increased the energy, the movement, of the particles swirling through the stone.

  Almost immediately, the torch in the statue’s left hand came alight. Flame burst out as if it had been constrained and finally released. A string of light shot across the wall to where the next statue stood holding a chalice. The chalice came alight with a flame of its own. The string of energy continued racing down the wall. As it passed through each statue, a flame appeared, lighting his path.

  Amazed, Leif hefted his pack and strode into the now lighted path through the mountain.