An excerpt from the journal of the Biwa Hoshi Izuka

Who I am this very day is different from who I was yesterday. Every night I fall asleep and wake up as a different person. As does every other thinking creature. We are molded and shaped by our actions. They change us.

Two mountains, separated by only a small glade, proudly rise out of the earth. They both reach for the sky above but have wildly different surroundings.

The first reaches on its own, having been the first to take its space, and small hills have slowly gathered around it during the passing of years. A majestic sight, it amplifies the surrounding area through its presence. A sense of conflicting calmness emanates from it, a darker layer of nature hiding beneath the beauty. A distinguishing canyon, incredibly deep, runs through the center. The mountain is a thing of greatness and rigidity, unwilling to bend under the yoke of gravity.

The second reaches forward on the broken backs of the hills beneath it. It was not the first to arrive in the area but it is the one that has conquered. It lacks the refreshing beauty of the other mountain but possesses a naked brutality that the other is missing. Animals hunt along its crevices and canyons. Harsh winds blow upon its face, bringing snow and ice. It is a hard mountain but it too refuses to give in, spitefully rising up to show its dominance.

In between the two mountains rests a small glade with six trees. Each one is a beautiful example of the capabilities of nature. A hard shell coats a tree with massive branches, surrounding itself with stifling silence. Another is marked with thousands of small slashes, remnants of the animals that have passed through. A smaller yet sturdy tree grows away from the others, so close to the boundaries of the harsh mountain that it is almost not in the glade. In the middle of all of the trees is a shallow pond of pure melted spring water.

Each of them is unique and framed perfectly by the stalwart bastions that surround them. Brutality and calmness, duality and singular purpose, the two mountains stand ever present and watch the world go around them, each one influencing in their own way.

It’s been four days since we left Everwall and an ominous feeling is beginning to settle in. Whether my team is ready for it or not, we are about to be confronted with other humans that may try to take our lives.

They’re untested, completely green in this area, and I’m not entirely sure how they will react. Hakim seems to switch between absolute conviction and deep doubt at a moment’s notice. Carmen plays off the whole battle with her characteristic nonchalance but I can tell that deep inside she’s worried, terrified of what she’ll discover with her Skill. Alejandro gives off the impression of being perfectly fine but spends every second of downtime obsessively working on his armor and tools.

If I’m honest, I understand their trepidation. Taking the life of another person, a living breathing human, is something that changed me as a person. The act made the stakes of the Primus Trials much higher and instilled a sense of … responsibility within me. I need to win in order to give their deaths a greater purpose. Without it, I’m no better than any other power-obsessed candidate.

I look ahead, noting the sun's position in the middle of the sky, and realize we are closer to the pair of mountains. For some reason, they call out to me and I find myself unable to look away. It is as if they are cast from the same mold but have evolved in their own unique ways, each one becoming more beautiful by comparison.

Mountains like those are sure to have springs and we are beginning to run low on water. We’ve still got enough for another day or two, but I’d prefer to have our stores full before we approach Farringham.

With a quick word, we slightly alter our direction and climb up the path leading towards the middle of the two mountains, hoping we run into some sort of hospitable area to rest and recover before continuing. Thick and tall trees rise above us, creating a thick canopy above our heads Each ray of light that manages to get through showcases the beauty of this place, the potential of nature uncorrupted by humanity.

It is while I’m admiring the landscape that Carmen suddenly stops.

Closing her eyes to better concentrate, Carmen activates Foresight and races through the possibilities, her mind rooted on the concept of danger and battle. It may not be the safest method to catch glimpses of what is to come but it’s the best she’s discovered so far.

The visions rapidly flash through her mind. Walking through the forests towards the glade between the mountains. Resting and refilling their water skins. Casual chatting. Packing up their bags to leave again.

Flickers of movement as a knife suddenly comes flashing out of the shadows to strike at Hakim’s throat. His jugular slashed open before he has the chance to activate his runes. An arrow immobilizing Alejandro’s arm as he attempts to put his armor back on. A large red haired and bearded man rushing him with a hammer. Her dodging arrows and stabs but unable to do any damage against the attackers.

A flash of light. Cael standing above Hakim with tears running down his face and fury in his eyes. A scream as someone burns alive. A crack as the bearded man is frozen until he shatters. Blood erupting as the hidden knife wielder, a young boy, is impaled with blades of blue energy and electricity.

A roar as the final attacker, a brutal man with scars on his face, appears. Blood rushing out of Cael’s face as he sees the attacker’s face.

With that final image, she reaches the limit of her ability to see forward and snaps back to the present. Her alive and uninjured teammates look at her curiously, anxious to know what she saw. She falls into wracking sobs at the sight of them alive. The vision had become so realistic, so overwhelming, that she had temporarily forgotten that it was only a possibility. These three had become important to her, more so than she had ever imagined. Having to live through the visions of losing them… it was almost more than she could take.

Barely able to speak through her sobs and tears, she says, “They’re here.”

I step away from the team, letting them all come to terms with everything that Carmen just told us. I can barely comprehend how it must have felt to watch us die but that isn’t what I’m focused on at the moment.

She said I seemed to recognize the attacker.

Any remaining doubts in my mind were erased at her descriptions of the bearded man, a mental image of the Hunter’s second coming to my mind in seconds. Her short description of Kat only growing the pit in my stomach.

Peter is the Candidate from Farringham.

I stumble and nearly fall, catching myself against a tree. Just … how? I’d told him about what I was capable of and what I intended to accomplish and, despite that, he still decides enter the Trials?

I grab onto my hair and pull at it, letting out a yell of frustration and anguish.

Carmen’s visions make it clear. Peter isn’t just willing to enter the Trials to spite me, he is willing to ruthlessly kill my entire team in his pursuit of power. He knows that I am the Candidate of Everwall and he still attacked us without even an attempt at letting us surrender. Were it not for Carmen’s ability, I’d be burying two of my friends.

The thought fills me with an icy anger and I can barely keep it in check. The only things restraining me are the countless memories that Peter and I shared together. Playing video games together after class, hiking a mountain to watch the sunrise, getting drunk at the bar and singing our way back to our crappy dorm. These and a thousand other memories fight against the facts, trying to sway me towards leniency.

He has become a different person. I’d gotten hints of it while I was at the Hunters and been given a massive clue with his little test but I’d pushed them out of my mind in an attempt to save my friendship.

It was another easy decision. I’d refused to face the facts in front of me and my team had almost paid the price.

I quickly stand, growling, “No more easy decisions.”

Quickly rejoining my team, I give them a quick look over and I’m shocked by the resolve in their eyes. All sense of doubt and nervousness is gone and they seem ready to face the battle in front of them. Pride wells up within me.

“I’m not going to hide the truth from you all; the Candidate from Farringham is most likely a childhood friend of mine. I’d never expect him to be ruthless enough to attack on sight but … I don’t think he’s the same person anymore…”

I trail off into silence before continuing, meeting their eyes one by one. “I’m still going to give him the chance to surrender though. With Carmen’s help, we can plan around what they are capable of. If they don’t take my offer I want us to end this quickly. I don’t want to bury anyone today.”

The three of them nod their approval and then we begin to lay out our plan, understanding that the specter of death now hangs over our near future. All I can hope is that I can end this day without any of my friends dying.

Peter hides near the glade, impatiently staring at his axe as he waits for Cael’s party to show up. Kat, while scouting ahead, had discovered traces of their path and determined that they’d be stopping off at the glade.

It hadn’t taken long to set up an ambush and all that there was left to do was wait. It irked Peter, his Warlord Instincts whispering in his ear. The ever-changing voice pushed him to give up the trickery and face his opponent in combat, to crush them beneath his heel and feel the last vestiges of life drain out of their body.

Weakling, the voice whispers. Only a coward hides from his opponent. Show the world your power and slay your ties to the past.

The voice dies down as a bird call comes down from one of the sparse trees within the glade, signalling that Kat, hiding in the branches of a strangely dark tree, had just spotted them. The attack waits on his signal now.

He clears his mind, waiting for the inevitable yelling of his old memories that would rage and shout at what he had planned. Of course, they don’t appear, their existence having been purged from his mind. The simple thought fills him with a terrible glee and a smile breaks out on his face.

Today is the day that he purges another tie to the past and frees himself from the shackles of who he once was. The Warlord would be held down by no one.

Barely able to see from his hiding spot, he manages to catch glimpses of Cael walking through the glade and towards the pond at its center. He doesn’t see any other moving figures but, even if they were there, he wouldn’t be able to focus on them. His eyes follow Cael with a single-minded obsession. Here is a walking, living, and breathing connection to what he once was. The last remnant of his past as a sniveling coward. He would use Cael’s death as the final stepping stone in his ascension.

To his surprise, Cael reaches the center of the glade, throws his bag down and takes a deep draught of the spring water before turning around and glancing directly at where he hides, their eyes seeming to make contact.

Peter briefly wonders if he knows where he is before dismissing the idea. Of course, that is when Cael speaks.

“I know you’re out there and I know what you’re planning on doing. I … I honestly can’t wrap my head around it. We’ve lived through so much together and you’re willing to throw that away because of what? Some power, some position?”

Peter finds himself riveted, unable to do anything but listen. The Cael that he had imagined had fought admirably but hadn’t carried himself with this level of confidence. Doubts begin to creep into his mind.

“You get one chance to surrender. I know that Kat and Craig are out here. The last thing that I want is for them to get caught up between the two of us. Enough people have already been taken from us.” He sounds heartfelt and genuine but Peter hears something beneath it, a deeper meaning that weaves its way in and out of his words.

And then it comes out fully. His voice almost seems sorry as he says it.

“Attack me and you die.”

The threat wipes away all of the doubt and Peter feels a tempest of righteous anger rise up within him. He is the Warlord, a force of power and strength in a chaotic world, and he will not bow down to anyone.

A shrill whistle carries forth from his lips and the glade bursts into motion.