The moment Vera stepped away from the Legend Orb, it pulsed again, once, then again. Faster and brighter.
Before anyone could speak, the light exploded outward.
Nola felt her body lift off the ground, weightless. A tingling rush surged through her chest, then silence.
Then darkness was all she could see.
Until a blast of light surrounded her.
They all gasped awake in the same instant.
Soft grass cradled their backs. The sky above was a canvas of lavender and gold, two suns drifting lazily through the clouds. A warm wind rustled tall grass around them.
The scent was unfamiliar, sweet and earthy, like a memory they didn't know they had.
Tris sat up first. "Okay, roll call. Who didn't pack a parachute?"
A voice answered, calm and impossibly vast.
"This is a construct of the Legend Orb. A shared psychic space calibrated for will convergence."
Felix blinked. "Was that the Orb?"
"Yes," the voice said. It echoed inside their minds more than their ears. "Each of you will now be guided into your individual resonance state. In that state, your will shall test you."
Ari sat up, her eyes narrowing. "Test us how?"
"By your own truths. Your own fears. And your readiness to understand not what your relic is, but what it represents."
The grass around each of them began to shimmer, forming glowing rings beneath their bodies.
"Your trials will be separate. But you are not alone. Your will has waited long enough."
One by one, the rings glowed brighter until each figure vanished, pulled into the personal domain of their will.
When Tris touched the surface of the Legend Orb, he expected heat, or a jolt of energy, maybe a booming voice announcing his destiny. Instead, the world vanished beneath him.
No light. No sound. Just weightlessness.
And then, he took a deep breathe.
He gasped as air filled his lungs, as if surfacing from deep water. His feet landed on packed earth, damp and solid.
Around him rose towering bamboo trees, whispering in a wind that didn't touch his skin. Lanterns hung from unseen branches, glowing gold in the mist.
He looked down. His usual gear was gone. He wore a loose, deep green tunic, wide-legged pants, and sandals. Across his back: a bow, simple but sturdy. A quiver rested at his hip, each arrow tipped in silver.
Tris turned slowly, trying to get his bearings. "Okay," he muttered. "So it's gonna be one of those dreams."
A voice answered.
"It's not a dream, Tris."
He spun. A figure stood ahead on a stone platform: tall, lean, and calm. His long hair was tied back. His clothes were simple, yet his presence filled the clearing. A golden lute rested against his side.
Tris blinked. "You're Thạch Sanh."
The legendary hero gave a small nod. "And you are here because you carry my will."
Tris opened his mouth, then closed it. The forest was too quiet. The air, too heavy. It wasn't a vision. It was a meeting.
Thạch Sanh stepped off the platform. "You were chosen not because you are strong. But because you might become worthy."
"Gee, thanks," Tris said. "No pressure."
The hero didn't smile. He motioned to the side, where two paths opened in the forest.
"You must walk one. Both lead to truth, but only one leads to understanding. The other leads to illusion."
Tris squinted. "What kind of riddle is that? There's no sign, no clue."
"The clue is who you are," Thạch Sanh replied. "But you must see it first."
Tris stepped toward the paths. One glowed softly with warm light. Birds chirped in the distance. The other was darker, the bamboo thicker. No sound came from it at all.
He sighed. "Of course. It's a metaphor."
He took the darker path.
The silence pressed in like fog. Each step felt heavier. The forest twisted subtly, trees bending in odd directions, shapes moving just outside his vision.
He emerged into a clearing.
Ahead, a man knelt. Bound and bloodied.
A massive serpent circled him, scales glistening with oil-slick colors. Its mouth opened, fangs like daggers. It hissed, and the man whimpered.
Tris reached for his bow on instinct.
Then he saw the man's face.
It was himself.
Younger. Eyes filled with tears. Bruised lip. Torn shirt.
The serpent loomed.
Tris hesitated. His hands trembled. The bow felt heavy.
"You have one shot," Thạch Sanh's voice echoed. "One arrow."
The serpent drew back. Tris aimed. Breathed in. Held it. Released.
The arrow struck true, burying into the serpent's eye. It screamed, recoiling, then shattered into dust.
The bound Tris faded. Not into light. But into laughter.
Mocking.
The forest darkened.
He fell to his knees.
"What was that?"
Thạch Sanh stood behind him. "That was who you were when you ran. When you joked to hide fear."
Tris shook his head. "I never ran."
"You did. From responsibility. From grief. You've worn humor like armor. But here, it fails."
Tris stood, breathing hard. "So what? I have to be serious all the time? Become some stoic martyr?"
Thạch Sanh tilted his head. "You misunderstand me. Laughter is a weapon. So is truth. But you must stop using one to avoid the other."
The forest shifted.
A small child sat in the next clearing. Alone. Crying.
Tris approached. Sat beside him.
"You okay, kid?"
The boy looked up. His own face again. Younger still. No bruises. Just sadness.
"I want to be strong," the boy said.
"You will be. But it's not going to feel like what you think."
"Will it hurt?"
Tris took a long breath. "Yeah. But you'll laugh through it. Not because it's funny. But because you get back up. That's strength."
The boy nodded, then faded. The forest brightened.
Thạch Sanh appeared once more.
"You are beginning to understand."
"I thought this was supposed to be a fight. A monster. Something I could beat."
"No. You don't beat a will. You become worthy of it."
He raised the lute. It glowed softly, then dissolved into Tris's chest.
"You carry not just a relic, but a legacy. My values. Courage. Compassion. Truth through action. Humor without cruelty."
Tris looked at his hands. They glowed faintly. The bow at his back shimmered. It wasn't just a weapon now. It was a part of him.
"So what now?"
"Now, you leave. And you live by what you've learned."
The forest folded inward, vanishing in golden light.
Tris opened his eyes in the chamber.
His body was shaking, sweat on his brow. But he stood.
The others watched him.
He gave a crooked grin.
"That was... a lot."
Caldre studied him. Then nodded once. "You've begun."
He didn't respond. Just walked to the side, sat down, and let himself breathe.
The glow of the orb pulsed again.
Someone else was about to be called.
But Tris had passed. And the will of Thạch Sanh was no longer just a relic. It was a truth he could carry.