Chapter 5: Sands Of Omen

Raen's fingers hovered over the book's spine. Dust covered the cracked leather, and strange shapes marked the cover, glinting under the faint glow from the wall stones. The symbol—a split eye with lines like roots—matched the one from the diary.

He reached out—

"You shouldn't."

It's someone.

A voice, soft but firm, cut through the silence.

Raen turned. A girl stood near a broken shelf, arms crossed. She looked his age, hair tied in a loose braid, clothes worn but ready for travel. Her amber eyes held a warning.

"That book'll curse you. Bad luck all Trial."

Raen frowned. "Already read pages from a diary," he said, holding up the bundle under his arm. "Bad luck's mine already."

The girl sighed, shaking her head. "Figures. You don't seem like you listen much."

"Depends on who's talking." He glanced at the book, then back at her. "Why do you care anyway?"

"Because if you die from some cursed book, that's one less person keeping the others busy." Her lips curled into a half-smile. "Also, I don't like watching idiots dig their own graves."

Raen blinked, then chuckled softly. "Nice to meet you too." He paused. "Name's Raen."

I'll befriend her...for now

She hesitated, then shrugged. "Lira."

"Lira," he repeated, testing the name. "So, Lira, you seem to know a lot about this place. Been here long?"

"Long enough to know most people don't last past the first day." Her gaze drifted to the walls where sand trickled down from cracks. "And long enough to know we should leave."

Raen glanced at the shelves. "What's with the symbols? The diary I found had the same markings."

"They're warnings," Lira said. "Or directions. Depends on how you read them. Not that it matters if you can't understand the language."

"Figures," Raen muttered. "Everything here's either trying to kill me or confuse me."

"That's the Trials for you." She tilted her head. "Any more questions, or can we move before this place falls on us?"

Raen opened his mouth but froze as a faint rumble vibrated under his feet. His earlier curiosity dimmed under a creeping sense of urgency. "Yeah... fair point."

---

The desert wind howled. Sand whipped across the dunes, stinging exposed skin. A lone figure moved between the shifting hills—a boy, face half-covered with a cloth. His dark eyes scanned the horizon.

He paused. Footsteps—soft but close.

A shadow leapt from behind a dune. Another followed. Two figures, blades drawn. They circled him, using the storm as cover.

"Give it up," one said. "Easy way or hard way."

The boy's eyes narrowed. "Hard way."

He raised his hand. The sand around him swirled, heating fast. Tiny glass shards formed mid-air, glittering like stars. The attackers lunged—too slow. Shards shot forward, slicing through the wind. One man cried out, dropping to the ground. The other tried to run—sand caught his legs, pulling him under like quicksand.

Silence returned, broken only by the wind.

The boy wiped his brow, glancing up. The sky above flickered red. His gaze darkened. "Desert eats the careless," he muttered, and walked on.

....

Raen and Lira moved through the crumbling spiral library, their footsteps echoing against stone walls coated with dust and faint scratches. Shelves leaned like crooked teeth, books spilling out with pages long decayed. Above them, cracks in the ceiling wept sand, filling the air with a gritty haze.

Raen glanced back at the book he'd nearly taken earlier. His fingers twitched, temptation gnawing at him. That symbol—split eye with root-like lines—it had to mean something.

Lira caught his look. "Forget it," she said. "No book's worth dying for."

"Easy for you to say," Raen shot back. "You're not the one looking for answers."

"I'm looking to survive." Her tone was sharp. "That's how you get through the Trials. Not by sticking your head in cursed pages."

Raen sighed, rubbing his face. "I just… I read from that diary, right? Managed to understand some of it. But the shelves—nothing makes sense. Why?"

Lira paused, glancing at him. "Those pages were different. Probably written for people like us—contestants. Warnings, maybe. These books? They're older. Stuff from whoever built this place. Not meant for us."

"Or maybe they don't want us understanding," Raen muttered. "Feels like everything here's either trying to kill me or confuse me."

"That's the Trials," she said. "Get used to it."

Raen's stomach growled. Lira rolled her eyes and tossed him a strip of dried meat. "Eat. You'll need the energy."

He took it with a muttered thanks, biting into the tough strip. "So... how long've you been in this?"

"Long enough to know asking the wrong questions gets you dead." Her gaze swept the crumbling shelves. "And sticking around places like this gets you worse."

Raen frowned. "Why'd you help me back there anyway? You don't owe me anything."

Lira shrugged, lips tugging into a half-smile. "It's harder to survive alone. Don't make me regret it."

Before Raen could respond, a low rumble rolled through the ground. Dust rained down from above. "That's our cue," Lira muttered. "Let's get out of here."

....

Far from the collapsing library, high cliffs rose from the desert like jagged bones. Pale moonlight washed over a group of figures gathered around a flickering fire, their forms wrapped in cloaks to ward off the cold winds. Beyond the ledge, darkness stretched into an abyss below.

A young man leaned against a rock, arms crossed. His golden hair caught the firelight, casting a warm glow against his tanned skin. Eyes like molten amber watched the flames dance. "Wasting time," he muttered.

"Patience, Kieran," a woman near the fire said. Her voice was smooth, almost lazy, but held weight. She stirred a pot hanging over the flames, the aroma of stewed roots filling the air. "The Trials aren't won by rushing."

Kieran scoffed. "They're not won by sitting on our asses either." He pushed off the rock, pacing. "Others are out there—fighting, moving. We sit here like prey waiting to be picked off."

Another figure—a hulking man sharpening a blade—grunted. "Let him rant. He's just itching for a fight."

"Damn right I am," Kieran said, a grin flashing. "This is supposed to be a test, yeah? Then where's the challenge?" His gaze drifted upward to the star-streaked sky. Red streaks, faint but growing brighter, crawled across the heavens. His grin widened. "There we go. Finally."

The woman sighed, ladling stew into bowls. "Meteors. That's not a good sign."

"It's excitement," Kieran corrected. He snatched a bowl, sitting on a rock. "You all play it safe. I'll take my chances." He paused, then added, "Heard there's a kid running around down there. Barely survived the first round."

"Another dead fool waiting to happen," the hulking man muttered.

Kieran's eyes gleamed. "Maybe. Or maybe someone interesting." He set the bowl aside, appetite forgotten. Standing, he stretched, muscles tense. "I think I'll go find him."

"You wander off alone, you die," the woman warned.

Kieran laughed. "Then I better make it a good story." With a final wink, he turned, vanishing into the shadows beyond the fire's reach.

The group fell quiet, save for the crackle of flames and the distant whistle of wind through the mountains. Above, the red streaks grew brighter.

....

Raen and Lira pushed onward through the sand-choked tunnels. The air grew heavier with every step, dust swirling in thin shafts of moonlight that slipped through cracks above. Their earlier conversation lingered in Raen's mind, but his focus shifted to the tightening darkness around them.

"Almost there," Lira said, wiping sweat from her brow. Her voice echoed against the narrow walls. "If we keep heading up, we'll find the exit."

Raen glanced at the walls. Strange symbols sprawled across the stone, etched deep into the surface. Unlike the diary's scribbles, these markings seemed alive, faintly glowing a dull amber. "These…" Raen murmured. "They look like the ones in the diary."

Lira paused. "You can read them?"

"Not really," Raen admitted. "The diary had words that made sense. These... they just burn into my head."

Lira frowned but tugged his arm. "Don't stare too long. People say those symbols mess with your head."

They pressed on, the corridor widening into a vast underground chamber. Before them stood a massive iron gate, half-buried in sand and rusted from time. It stretched high into darkness, with chains coiled across it like metal serpents.

Raen approached, running his hand along the surface. "What is this place?"

"No clue," Lira said. "But gates like this aren't meant to be opened. Let's not stick around."

He pushed against it anyway—unmoving. No handles, no keyholes, just the imposing weight of forgotten history. "Locked," Raen muttered. His gaze shifted to the statues flanking the gate—weathered figures with hollow eyes and arms outstretched as if warning intruders away.

A chill crept up his spine.

"Raen," Lira whispered. "We should—"

A faint clicking echoed in the darkness behind them.

Raen turned. His stomach twisted. White eyes flickered in the shadows—one pair, then another. Then many.

"Mancrawlers," Lira hissed, drawing her blade.

The first creature lunged. Raen dove aside as its claws raked the ground where he'd stood. Another emerged from the darkness, mandibles snapping. Lira slashed at it, sparks flying as steel met chitin.

"Go!" she shouted. "I'll hold them—"

Raen didn't hesitate. Sprinting past her, he spotted a staircase spiraling upward. He climbed two steps at a time, breath ragged, mancrawlers screeching below. Lira retreated up behind him, swiping at any that got close.

A claw grazed Raen's calf—he grimaced but kept going.

The top of the staircase ended at a trapdoor. He shoved at it—it wouldn't budge. Panic flared. "C'mon, c'mon!" He rammed his shoulder into it. Dust rained down. Lira reached him, face pale. "They're climbing!"

Raen's gaze darted to the ground—a femur bone lay nearby. Without thinking, he jammed it under the trapdoor, using it as leverage. The wood creaked, then gave way, swinging open. Cool night air rushed in.

"Up!" he barked.

Lira scrambled through. Raen followed, slamming the door shut just as clawed limbs grasped at the opening. He grabbed the femur again, wedging it across the trapdoor's latch. Below, the creatures clawed and shrieked, but the bone held firm.

Both collapsed onto the sand floor, panting.

Raen's chest heaved. "That... was close."

Lira nodded, wiping dirt from her face. "Too close."

They lay there for a moment, catching their breath. Raen sat up and took in their surroundings. They were in a vast open space—a long, spiraling library built into a canyon wall. Shelves of ancient books twisted upward into darkness, the ceiling lost somewhere in shadow. A cold wind swept through, stirring loose pages and dust.

Raen stood, legs shaky. "A library? Underground, and now... this?" His head swam. None of this made sense.

Lira pushed herself up. "The Trials aren't supposed to make sense."

Before Raen could reply, a distant rumble shook the air. Both turned toward the canyon opening beyond the shelves. The sky beyond had darkened into a swirling mass of clouds, streaked with crimson veins.

Then—

BOOM.

The heavens split. Meteors, like fiery spears, streaked across the night sky, their glow bathing the canyon in a blood-red hue. One crashed into the dunes beyond, sending up a plume of sand and debris. Another smashed into a distant peak, the explosion rattling the ground beneath them.

Raen stared in awe and dread. "What... is happening?"

Lira grabbed his arm. "We need to move. Now."

"But—"

"No time!" She yanked him toward the shelves, seeking cover. Another meteor slammed down nearby, sand and stone raining over them. The library shook, books tumbling from their perches.

Raen's thoughts spiraled. The diary's words, the symbols, the girl's warnings—all converged into a single truth:

The Divine Trials were far more dangerous than he'd imagined.