The Trial

Tom hears a distant voice. "Hello? You alive?" A firm hand shakes him gently, rousing him from unconsciousness.

He startles awake. "Where am I?" he mumbles, disoriented.

"You passed out during your trial," a woman's voice responds. "But no matter—you shall try again."

Tom blinks and looks around. He is still in the white void, sitting at a desk, the emptiness stretching endlessly around him.

"Trial?" he echoes, confusion settling in.

The woman snaps her fingers, and in an instant, he finds himself back in a grand classroom. Students hurry to take their seats as if nothing happened.

A thin but tall man stands at the front. "Welcome to my class," he announces. "I am Tom Hastel."

Tom freezes. "That's my name," he mutters under his breath.

The man continues, unfazed. "Today, we will learn how to conjure basic information. But first—" he points directly at Tom—"You, boy. Stand up and tell me what tragedy befell humanity and why heroes rose."

Tom hesitates, suddenly aware of every student's gaze upon him. Swallowing his nerves, he speaks. "There was a tragedy back then... and that tragedy opened rifts all over the world. From these rifts came monsters we later named Riftens. They rampaged across the world, causing destruction. But a few individuals arose with special powers and ended their reign."

The man nods. "Correct. You are quite knowledgeable. Now—"

"Professor," Tom interrupts. "We have the same name."

The man chuckles. "You're quite the joker. No, we don't. Check your name tag."

Laughter ripples through the classroom. Tom glances at his name tag and sees: Dorin Fleur.

"What?" he mutters. "That's not my name."

As soon as he sits down, the bell rings. But when he looks up again, the students and the professor have vanished. The classroom is eerily empty.

Tom stands, but as soon as he does, he is suddenly in a long corridor filled with students wearing black robes—the academy's uniform. But something is wrong. Every single student's name tag reads: Tom Hastel.

He hears snippets of conversation:

"Hey, did you hear? Tom just got a new girlfriend."

"No way! You mean Tom Hastel? He's coming to this school?"

"Hey, Tom, check this out!"

Everyone is Tom.

Panicking, he glances at his own name tag. Dorin Fleur.

"The hell is happening?" he mutters.

As he walks forward, the students start vanishing one by one. The corridor stretches endlessly, and soon, he is completely alone.

"What is happening?" he whispers.

Then, as he takes another step, his surroundings dissolve into pure white. He is back in the void.

"Congratulations, you passed your first trial, Dorin," a voice says from behind.

Tom turns sharply. Standing before him is the professor—Tom Hastel.

"Now, Mr. Fleur, you have one more trial to pass before you can escape this endless void." The professor claps his hands. "Well, I hope you pass." He snaps his fingers.

Tom blinks and finds himself back in the classroom. But this time, when he looks down at his name tag, it is blank.

"Welcome to my class," the same professor says. "I am Tom Hastel. Today, we will learn how to conjure basic information. But first—" he points at Tom—"You, boy. Get up and tell me what tragedy befell humanity and why heroes rose."

Everything is repeating.

Tom slowly rises from his seat. "I believe I have a name, sir."

The professor tilts his head. "Oh, my apologies. Let me check your name tag." He leans in and suddenly recoils, his expression shifting from curiosity to horror. "No... it can't be. You're... me?!"

Before Tom can react, the professor's form distorts and shifts. In moments, he is looking at an exact replica of himself.

A woman suddenly appears between them, glancing between both Toms with amusement. "Oh my, now who is the real Tom Hastel?" She smirks and points at the real Tom. "Is it you?" Then she points at the other. "Or you?"

The fake Tom raises his hand eagerly. "It's me! I'm the real Tom!" His voice echoes endlessly in the void.

"No!" the real Tom protests. "I'm the real Tom!"

The woman claps her hands. "Let's settle this with a few questions." She turns to them. "Tell me, why do rifts open randomly in different places and at different times?"

Tom frowns. "We're supposed to learn that in the academy. I don't know yet."

The fake Tom raises a hand confidently. "The reason was initially unknown, but recent studies suggest time fluctuations and dilations occur in specific areas. These areas, called 'mystery places,' are unpredictable and often dangerous. Some theorists believe Riftens appear in these places to stabilize them. It isn't confirmed, but whenever a Riften attacks a mystery place, the fluctuations disappear, restoring normalcy. However, Riftens also appear elsewhere, not just in these places."

The woman nods approvingly. "Right on track, Tom." She gives a thumbs-up to the fake Tom. "Looks like the other one is the impostor."

"What? That doesn't even make sense!" the real Tom protests. "That information is only taught at the academy! How would I know that before studying there? That alone proves he's the fake!"

The woman grins. "Well done." She snaps her fingers, and the fake Tom dissolves into nothingness.

"You've passed your trials," she says, stepping toward Tom and placing a hand on his shoulder.

She whispers something incomprehensible. The white void shatters around him.

Tom gasps and finds himself back in the real world.

"Hello?" a voice calls. "You good? You've been standing there for a few seconds without saying anything."

Tom blinks and turns. Fred is standing beside him.

"What?" Tom murmurs. "Didn't you go to a white place and have a trial too?"

"What trial?" Fred frowns. "We haven't even arrived at the academy yet."

Tom's breath catches. He glances around. They're still at the train station. He hasn't even boarded yet.

He turns and sees his mother waiting for him.

But he remembers—he already boarded the train. He already reached the academy.

So why is he back here?

"What... just happened?" he mutters.