The snake wove its way towards him and he closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see it get closer. He could almost feel like grass bend under its scales, prickling across his skin in the thousands of goosebumps that marched across the back of his arms. Gods of the earth, why this? Why? He felt the pressure in the clearing change, becoming heavier. When he cracked an eyelid open his blood ran cold in his veins. The snake had brought itself up to face him. It was large enough to meet his gaze, yellow eyes snapping shut.

 The thin tongue whipped past fangs that gleamed like crescent moons, tasting the air. Although his whole body screamed with the instinct to run, or to crouch on the ground and cry, to wait for death, he forced himself to look into the snake's eyes. This was a test, even though he felt like throwing up because of it. The snake wobbled in the air, drifting closer until the flickering tongue slid dryly down Merlyn's cheek. 

His whole body shuddered but he thought of the way his uncle could stare down a wolf and have it pad away harmlessly. Of the way his mother had thrown stones at a hawk as it dove after the chickens. Of the men of the village thatching their roofs in a thunderstorm. He might be young, but that spark of grit inside him, a gift of his people, was still there. And he wouldn't let a snake that wasn't even real rip that from him. So he squared his shoulders and raised his hand in offering. 

The snake opened its jaw impossibly wide and closed it around his hand. Searing pain like twin suns. He squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed a scream. Then the pain was gone. When he dared to open his eyes again a woman stood in the snake's place, her yellow, slitted eyes familiar. A look of faint humor drifted across her face as he met her gaze. "Ssscared of ssssnakes, are you, Little one?" 

Merlyn swallowed as she stepped closer, her movements inhumanely fluid. He seemed frozen to the spot as she slid a dry hand across his cheek, long fingers curling under his chin. In that moment he could feel the power running under her skin. Like the little sparks from the fire when his mother made dinner, catching against his skin. Exhilarating, not quite painful, and sudden. He licked his dry lips and watched the woman's dark hair as it drifted slightly in a breeze that wasn't there. Her gaze, intense against skin so dark it looked like the night sky on a new moon, bored into his. Suddenly, he realized she was waiting for him to answer.

 "Ah, uh, yes. Um, my lady?" he mumbled awkwardly. A laugh bubbled out of the snake woman's throat, showing a flash of crescent fangs. "Lady am I, yessss. But alssso no," she hissed, scales flashing like a mirage across her arms. Merlyn shuddered, looking down at his feet. "I don't mean to be rude, but what is the point of scaring me?" he asked, honestly curious. A forked tongue flickered between her lips and she dropped her hand from his face. "To ssssee what you are made of," she said, voice a sibilant whisper.

 "To tesssst your will. A drwyd mussst rely on will above all elssse if they are to brave the line between worldssss." He watched as she swayed slightly, reminescent of her other form. "The very fact that you asssked that quessstion meansss you have sssucceeded in massstering your fear, at leassst enough to merit my approval. But there are othersss," she hissed, pausing slightly-- uncertain. "They sssee a future of bloodshed in your path. They do not want me to passsss you. 

But," she said, a note of stubbornness entering her tone. "do you know," she said, switching subjects quickly, "that ssssnakesss usssed to be a sssymbol of feminine power? That wort wivesss and healersss ussssed to have a sssnake sssymbol on their doorssss? That your people ssshould do well to remember that even asss you hold out againssst the sssstrength of the Chrisssstiansss their beliefssss, including thossse about sssnakes being evil, sssstill permeat your mindsss? Remember me when you have need of that truth," she said cryptically, before reaching forward again and tapping one long nail against his cheek.

 "Do not fear my children any longer, they may whisssper sssecretssss to you that you never heard before." He blinked back at her, torn between nervousness and the sort of friendliness only children are known to possess. But when he went to open them back up, his eyes were stuck closed. Panic rose in his throat like a soap bubble in washing water. Then the moment passed. He opened his eyes not to the snake-woman, not to the clearing, not to the stars, but to darkness. 

Back in the cave, the sound of dripping water interrupted the slow rhythm of the stones. He could hear it. The heartbeat of the earth. Giddy with surprise, he flung himself to his feet and careened into the dark. Although he still couldn't see, he somehow knew where each stone lay, and where each footstep would fall. He'd passed the test. Awoken his gift. Now it needed teaching. His uncle would be so proud. The thought of his uncle's beaming smile at his exit was like a bolt of lightning through his chest. He needed to get out there into the firelight, to crow proudly of all he'd seen. 

His whoop echoed off of the walls of the cave, but when he burst from the entrance, the fire's embers had faded, the sunlit clearing empty save one white clothed form, slumped against a tree. At the commotion of Merlyn tumbling blindly into the sunshine, the figure awoke with a jolt. Merlyn's uncle's face relaxed when he saw his nephew, shoulders easing back against the bark of the tree. 

A look of weariness washed over him and he did not rise to greet him. As Merlyn came closer, his uncle shook his head. "We thought you had fallen into a gap in the cave not yet discovered. Lost. Dead. How can this be?" Merlyn frowned. "But, I was only in the cave for fifteen minutes. Where are Brisen and Gwyn?" His uncle shook his head slowly. "No, Merlyn. You were lost for three days. When Brisen exited first, then Gwyn, we were for sure that you were to follow shortly. But you never did. We've had drwyds scouring the cave, speaking to the stones, and none could tell where you were." Merlyn tugged nervously on a lock of his hair. "Oh," he said softly, looking out over the empty clearing.