Val awoke to the buzzing of heaters working overtime against the fervent winter. She jolted in a chair—now apparently sitting. Flesh writhed beneath her skin, leaving her helpless as intrusive bouts of twitching wracked her limbs.

“Easy, easy,” a faint voice cooed. Through tightly-knit eyelids, she caught sight of Collins’ warped expression, grimacing as if he shared her agony. “Phantom pains. Happens when one transitions back to reality. Centuries of magic, and we still can't avoid them."

"No remedies?" Val got out past gritted teeth.

"Time and time alone,” he answered, glancing behind at the rune-clock up against the wall. This is room 215, Val recognized. “It was said to be a major pain in the ass during the Third Great War. You save a person from their plight, but they remain out-of-order due to the lashback of the spell."

Val, fascinated by this new avenue of information, would've replied if not for the fuschia-pink spilling out of Williams' open eyes. His unblinking gaze had a far-off look in it, accompanied by faint signs of breathing. He appeared like he’d break if she poked him too hard.

"What's wrong with Williams?" she asked, exhaling as the last of the phantom pains faded away. "His eyes are literally bleeding pink."

Collins blinked. "Wait—you can see it? The colour?"

Val raised an eyebrow. "Can't you?"

"Yes, but..." Collins placed a hand on his chin. "Only those in the Heavenly Hue can perceive others of the same kind."

“So these colours—” she gestured poorly at the bright hue invading the grey of Williams’ irises “—aren’t just byproducts of spellcraft?

"I…” An evident struggle crossed his face. “ I shouldn't answer that. Let's wrap this up."

The overseer raised a hand, fingers forming a symbol in the air. Williams gasped like he was starved of oxygen, drowning and finally able to come up for air.

"Be calm, now. Calm. Ride it out. Breathe." Collins gave him the same greeting he offered her, helping him digest his new surroundings.

"With the both of you awake, you can now hear your verdict," the man announced. "Williams, you are deemed as a pass with a time of thirty-four minutes and eighteen seconds."

Williams shook his head, fists clenched. "Our time in that nightmare of an illusion was half an hour?"

“Mind trap,” Collins corrected. “You were in a mind trap, not an illusion.” 

Val sat up. “The difference being?”

"The difference doesn’t matter." The overseer glanced at her, intent on finishing his job as quickly as he could. "Efron, you are deemed as a pass, with a time of thirty-four minutes, and three seconds. Corporal Wren will lead you out as soon as she arrives. For now, sit still and, congratulations."

“This is where we part.” 

The corporal’s sentiment was muted by a current of bone-biting cold, burning Val’s ears red. Led to WIPM’s snow-covered parking lot, they loitered outside one of the several coach buses filling the space. The corporal gestured to the two silvers inside, giving them a firm bob of the head. “We forge.”

“We fight,” Val answered, the national call passing for good luck among locals. Williams settled for a nod and the pair entered, a wave of warmth washing over her. It was a full house inside, a buzz of excited chatter making it quite the task to distinguish a certain voice.

“Val, is that you?”

Far down, near the end of the bus, she spotted the familiar ponytail of crimson, tiny braids. “Caro?”

Caro's head popped out within the aisle, an unmistakable grin spread across her face. “Who else?”

Val huffed a silent laugh and gave her friend a brief hug when she reached. “I knew you’d pass.”

“Right back at you.” Caro’s attention slid past Val to the standing figure behind. “And you are?”

“Williams, an acquaintance of Efron’s,” he answered.

“If we’re sticking to last names, then I’m Hayes.” Caro held a fist for him to bump. “I’m calling you Will because really, it’s a lost opportunity not to.”

“I don’t appreci—”

“What? You like the nickname?” Caro grinned at his darkening face. “Perfect! Will it is.”

His quiet sigh was lost under the hum reverberating throughout the vehicle, leaving to join a chain of buses en route to the third trial’s destination. Val's gaze slid to Caro, the corporal's earlier statement about her still somewhat worrying. I mean she looks perfectly fine. Gotta remember to ask her about it later.

“Any clue as to where we’re going?” Williams' stared at the window panes, scenery flying by in an ever-changing blur.

“Well we’re probably gonna see some combat this time around, right?” Caro crossed her arms in thought. “Plus, it’s no secret that the last part of the trials is a combination of all the Tripartite Trial testing sites within the halo. That many people require a huge amount of space.”

“We’ll see soon enough,” Val muttered, her voice mixing with the soft pitter-patter of winter’s snowfall. The talk of halos refreshed the early-grade classes in history on the rich—or devastatingly boring, as Caro would prefer to say—background of the country.

While the latest warfare lingered on as bedtime stories told to children, horrifying ones of mind and blood magic, the Second Great War brought about the largest physical change. Adopting the name of the Tidal Wave of Beasts, the war was one fought against the multitudes of aether creatures from the Divide below. In order to protect herself, Ciazel erected her three famous walls, cleaving the country into three regions.

Three halos.

Each possessed a myriad of cities, sectors and districts, almost like its own nation within a nation. In short, it was safe to say that any event that was halo-wide was bound to be on an immeasurable scale.

 “Holy crap,” Caro muttered. On the lane beside their bus, a sleek vehicle zipped past them absent of sound, a sliver of space visible between it and the road. “Tell me I’m not the only one who saw that hovercar.”

 “It’s a sweet ride,” Val agreed.

“I’m gonna get one of those for the both of us these days,” Caro nudged her shoulder. “Just you wait.”

Williams' disbelieving scoff rang out throughout the bus. “Sure and I’m going to buy a storage ring tomorrow.”

“Ain’t nobody talking to you Will.”

“Pardon you, my name isn’t—”

“Will? It is now.”

“You—!”

Bickering back and forth, the immiscible pair missed a batch of streamlined cars that hovered on by. A new norm settled as they progressed into the downtown sector of Nocelle city, the most luxurious of its kind within the halo. Vehicles zoomed about in the air with uncanny uniformity at the crowns of high-rises, likely invisible lanes at play she couldn’t grasp. From down below, it was akin to metal bees buzzing by their glass beehives. On its route, the bus skirted an Auricean-style, austere stone facility and an unpleasant emotion ate at Val’s consciousness. Dad’s old guild. 

Val instead focused on the narrow streets that wound through the city, shivering at the congested sidewalks. Saints, that would be a nightmare to get through.

A mage took advantage, using his magic for tricks on the walkway. Cute, little water dogs rubbed on the legs of passersby, a few stopping to drop crumpled red bills into a bucket. The hustle and bustle faded as the line of buses drove into an abandoned area. The place looked like it was evacuated last minute—bikes still locked to fences, empty lemonade stands, and backyards full of seasonal toys.

The suburbs soon gave way to bare trees and rocky hills, an intangible tenseness wafting about in the air. A wall of energy glowed from a distance and its ambiance edged into the atmosphere as they neared.

One by one, buses peeled away, parking where they saw fit. Eventually, theirs did the same as well and the driver ushered them out in haste, not even a goodbye as he drove off. Thirty participants were now left in the middle of nowhere, shivering in their socks. “If I ever get my hands on that driver…” Caro muttered, leaving the rest unsaid. 

“Participants of Wyn?”

The group swivelled on their heels at the sudden voice.