*Is it a real one? I hope not.*
Its wrinkled skin confused the marble material it was made from. The wrinkles were so intricate and complex, my mind began to tangle into knots, as if the hand was too much to even glance at. My head continued to throb until I finally gave in and stopped looking. I didn't realize that an officer was in the room the whole time by the time he spoke.
"Shake hands with the podium, and your crimes are pardoned." he said
He refused to say anything else, but the burner in his hand said I had no option. Without noticing, my body seemed to inch a couple of feet closer to the podium than I would have liked. The Relic was a spectacle I had never seen before. Shortly, I only stumble upon a handful of Relics that are at the same level as this hand.
*Am I going to be tossed into a random dungeon? A jungle of some sort? No, maybe a different world. *
My thoughts spiraled—being alone in a magical trial terrified me. Locked by fate. I had to prepare for what was going to happen next. My eyes had locked onto the hand, refusing to look away. The wave of pain only grew stronger, and I had no intention of touching that disgusting, shriveled hand. Yet my body inched even closer, and before I noticed, my hand reached out.
My hand met the surface. The hand was cold. Not just cold–something older, colder than death. Its surface was hard like the surface of the Moon, but I began to lose the feeling of my fingers. The wrinkly hand was colder than any winter chill I had ever felt, sleeping straight into my bones. The sheer, freezing, cold wrapped around my hand. I had lost all feeling in my hand. I glanced at the soldier who stood idle. Unbothered. As if he'd seen this all day. His nonchalant-ness had found a way to startle me even more. The officer finally called out.
"Trials have a purpose. Find the purpose and you complete it. After the trial you will be greeted with other inmates that have also passed their trial. It will be in a random location, so locating you will be difficult. Survive until then. " His words began to muffle.
By the time my eyes locked back to the podium. The cold had embraced my chest. My heart thundered with pain, each beat slower than the last.
*Am I dying*
I began to see a dark aura begin to emit from the hand and eventually wrapped around my hand. The shadowy liquid began climbing up my arm. My eyes began to weigh shut due to the coldness reaching my face. My body was encased in the coldness.
Seconds passed and the coldness finally halted—yet the feeling of my body was gone as well. My eyes failed to open. I was floating. I couldn't see, feel, touch, hear, taste, yet I began to feel one thing. Resistance. The floating I felt, became dragging. No up or down. My thoughts had vanished, even my name. I slowly drifted into beyond until the dragging became a tug. A rope tied to my waist. Something wanted me. Something knew I was here.
Eventually the cold came back once more–not at the level of the podium. I started to feel my skin. The coldness graced it. I had felt the snow all along. My eyes opened. Blurry shapes and blobs greeted me, but I enjoyed the temporary blindness over the void black. My ears rang until I heard a voice call out.
"Damie!" The young woman yelled.
"Snow?" I said, noticing the snow clutched in my hand.
The ringing subsided for now, the shapes and blur turned into clear vision as I rubbed them into focus. The woman in front of me: Blonde hair that draped down to her shoulders, Pale skin that had turned into pink blotches due to the tempting cold, and one huge smile painted on her face.
"That's me," a voice replied with a sarcastic laugh. "Unless you're talking about the ice. In which case, rude."
My vision was imperfect, but it still allowed me to see the amazing view. I saw the ravenous mountains in the distance. Sheets of ice falling off one not too far. It seemed that we were on one ourselves. A slanted field of snow covered for as long as I could see. The trees were painted with white as well.
My breathing slowed in the mountain air. It felt so empty that it made me lurch.
"Here." Snow said, handing out a machine of some sort.
"Breathe it, idiot." She replied when I took too long staring at it.
I brought it close to my mouth, taking a huff. Instantly my imperfect vision had become normal and my thoughts finally started to flood through my head.
*Oxygen* The taste was metallic and sharp, like licking iron. As I handed it back she snatched it and stuffed it into a bulky pack that was slung across her waist.
Above us the sky burned— orange leaking into red, giving way to the long night that was to come.
"Come on." She said, tugging the rope she must've used to drag me. "Let's get back before it gets too late."
I followed her in silence, each step crunched down on the freshly poured snow. My body felt off. I wasn't injured or weakened in any way. Just unfamiliar. Like if all my clothes were the wrong size.
*Reincarnation?*
No. Not really. My fingers were calloused in places they never were. I noticed cuts from an axe on my arm. Probably from cutting firewood. I studied my body. My shoulders were broader, my walking was heavier.
*This isn't my body.*
I started questioning my whereabouts. From the way the girl spoke–Snow, I guessed—she must've known me. Knew him. Maybe we were siblings or—something more. But she didn't seem afraid of me.
*That's good news for a murderer.*
We hiked downward, the slope evening out until the land turned to snow filled plains. Up ahead, I saw the faint outlines of buildings. They were simple, close together, topped with slanted roofs weighed down with snow.
A village.
My thoughts drifted to the podium for a moment. The shriveled hand. The bitter cold that hollowed out my soul.
A trial.
I was still in it. This heaven or some type of afterlife. Not hell either. Maybe it was something in between.
*Could a single touch of a podium really bring me here? Into another man's life?*
I remembered. Stories. Myth's inmates had passed around during a black-out once. Relics that could bend reality. Changing your fate. Living countless lives.
I never believed them of course.
We eventually reached the village just as night greeted us. Lights hung from the wooden posts and signs that would welcome visitors.
"Welcome to Angel's declaration"
My feet kept moving. My breath slowed. My questions continued pouring in my mind.
Snow led the way through the corners and winding paths. We stopped in front of a small cottage. The kind of place where you would expect an old couple to live.
"Ummi! We're home!" Snow called, her voice bright and against the creak of the floorboards.
She kicked off the snow from her tight boots and slipped them off without a second thought. I mimicked her, more cautious than she was. I was in someone's house. I had never met them, yet they've known me their whole life.
*Are all trials just as cruel?*
I had to constantly remind myself that this wasn't me. I'm living someone else's life. I just have to find that thread of fate. Whatever ties me to this family is connected to it after all.