Читать книгу The Oyxia Chronicles: Shadow of Lorian - - Страница 5

Leonard and Valkerian walked along a narrow path leading up to Lorian Castle. Below them stretched sun-scorched plains, broken only by rare patches of dry grass, and in the distance rose the massive fortress walls etched with symbols of fire. The air here felt different – thick with heat and the pulse of magic. Leonard could feel his own power responding to this place, stirring deeper than ever before. His hands trembled slightly, but he tried to remain composed. He knew this was his chance to learn control – but also that the road ahead would be far from easy. In his ears echoed his father’s words: “Don’t forget where you come from.”

Those words steadied him, if only for a moment.

A carriage thundered past them, kicking up pillars of dust. Through its window Leonard caught a glimpse of a girl with bright, fiery hair.

Just like mine, Leonard thought. Beautiful – and riding in a carriage. She must be from a noble family.

Beside her sat a man in a cloak very much like Valkerian’s.

Another mage, probably. Escorting his student to the castle. Meanwhile, we still have a good half hour to walk, Leonard thought with a twinge of jealousy.

“Everyone reaches the Castle by their own path,” Valkerian remarked, as if reading his thoughts. “We’ll be there soon enough.”

Talking made the time slip by unnoticed, and before long the castle gates loomed before them.

The gates towered above them – colossal, menacing, studded with symbols glowing red-hot.

Armored guards stood at the entrance, their faces hidden behind smooth helmets. Only their eyes were visible: cold, assessing.

I really don’t like this, Leonard thought.

One of the guards stepped forward, blocking their way. “Names and purpose?” His voice was level, but a quiet threat lurked beneath it.

“Valkerian, Seeker of Flame,” Valkerian replied calmly. “And this is Leonard of Tirgold. He has come to study in Lorian.”

The guard turned his gaze on Leonard, as if weighing him from the inside out. Then he nodded and glanced at his partner.

“Wait. You’ll be summoned.”

After a few moments, the gates opened with a harsh scrape, and a mage stepped outside – dark cloak, crimson patterns along the fabric. His face was hidden beneath a hood, but his voice was sharp and cold:

“You are Leonard of Tirgold? Valkerian has spoken of you. Show that you are worthy of entering these walls.”

Leonard felt his heart clench. His palms were damp, but he refused to let fear take hold. He knew the moment had come.

The mage extended his hand, and a sphere of fire flared to life in his palm. He lifted it into the air, and it hung there, pulsing with heat.

“Extinguish it,” the mage ordered calmly. “If you can.”

Leonard stared at the blazing sphere, feeling something tighten inside him. He raised his hand, focusing on the fire. The sphere trembled, but did not go out.

Oh no. What if I fail? I can’t fail now! Leonard thought in a panic.

Suddenly fear crashed over him, and his magic, following instinct rather than will, slipped out of control. Instead of snuffing out the flame, he fed it. The fire exploded, surging upward into a towering column of flame that lit up the entire space before the gates.

The mage jerked back, eyes widening. “What was that…?” There was both surprise and a shade of fear in his voice.

The guards grabbed for their weapons on reflex, but Valkerian raised a hand, stopping them.

“He hasn’t learned to control his power yet. But the potential is obvious,” he said, his voice still steady.

Leonard stood there, breathing hard. Inside him everything churned – fear, relief, shock. He had no idea what this would mean for him. Memories surfaced – his mother’s voice: “You’re special, Leonard. Don’t be afraid of your power.”

But didn’t “special” also mean dangerous?

The mage in the cloak turned to the guards and gave a slow nod. “He’ll enter. But he will be watched.”

Leonard heard this and felt his heart skip a beat. He understood that he had passed the first test – but the words left a cold weight in his chest.

What does “will be watched” mean? He didn’t want to be a prisoner of his own magic. But he had no choice.

Leonard stopped before the massive gates, carved with swirling flames. The stone doors were so enormous they seemed immovable – yet a deep grinding echoed out, and they began to part. Heat rolled out from within, wrapping around him like invisible fire. It clung to him, welcoming and testing all at once. For the first time, he truly felt the power hidden behind the walls of Lorian Castle.

“I’ll be leaving you for a time – you’re not the only one who needs an escort to the Castle,” Valkerian said in farewell. “But I’ll be watching your progress. We will meet again.”

Leonard stepped forward.

The guards, clad in armor and crimson cloaks, watched him closely. Their faces remained unreadable, but their eyes showed the vigilance of those long used to danger. Leonard drew a deep breath and moved on. Sand, carried in from distant roads, crunched faintly beneath his boots. His heart beat faster, but he forced himself to keep his expression calm.

Now he was alone.

He clenched his fists, feeling tension coil through his body. He knew hard training awaited him, trials he could not yet imagine. But fear slowly gave way to resolve. He was ready. He had to prove his strength.

Lifting his head, he crossed the threshold.

The castle’s inner courtyard was vast, paved with sun-warmed stone. Along the edges stood columns bearing torches whose flames burned without visible fuel. The air carried the scent of ash and herbs – a strange combination, at once unusual and oddly soothing.

Leonard looked around and noticed something – a tall statue of a hooded mage holding a sphere of fire in his hands. A faint glow pulsed around it, as if the stone itself breathed with heat. Leonard wondered if it was merely a sculpture or something more.

While he pondered, a man in red-and-gold robes approached. Something important was clearly beginning.

“Good day. You’re new here, yes? Come along – the Trial of Fire will begin soon,” the mage said.

Leonard nodded, not trusting his voice at first. The mage’s tone was even, but there was a firmness to it, as if every word had been chosen with care. With a gesture, he invited Leonard to follow. Leonard cast one last glance at the statue, then hurried after him.

They left the courtyard and climbed a broad staircase leading deeper into the castle. The farther they went, the stronger the heat grew, as though the very walls held the memory of millennia of flame. Leonard felt sweat bead on his forehead but refused to wipe it away – he had to look composed.

Soon they entered a vast hall whose vaults disappeared into shadow. Tall columns rose like tongues of fire, supporting the arched ceiling.

The hall was immense. A high domed ceiling was borne by massive columns carved with scenes from Lorian’s history: magical battles, the taming of dragons, the forging of the first great spells. Leonard let his gaze trace the patterns, understanding that they were more than mere ornament – they were fragments of an ancient legacy he was only beginning to touch.

At the center of the ceiling hung a magical chandelier – the blazing heart of the hall. Its tongues of fire danced in the air, casting warm light over the walls. The glow was soft and golden, like sunlight filtered through smoke. Leonard wondered whether it was truly just a light – or a bound fragment of the fire’s very essence.

Along the walls ran ancient runes carved into black stone. For now they were barely visible, but Leonard had no doubt: the moment someone invoked a spell, they would flare to life in fiery red, awakened by magic.

He looked down. The floor – smooth as cooled lava – reflected his silhouette. The volcanic glass seemed alive, golden veins smoldering in its depths, forming faint patterns. Sometimes they faded, only to reappear – as if whispering secrets.

At the far end of the hall, his gaze was drawn to a massive throne rising on a pedestal. Forged from melted metal and obsidian, black as night and streaked with copper fire, it commanded the space. Even from this distance, Leonard could feel warmth radiating from it – not simple heat, but contained power, restrained yet ready to flare at any moment.

But what truly held his attention was the gigantic ring of flame behind the throne. It burned eternally, shifting from sun-gold to deep carmine, embodying the essence of Lorian itself – destruction and creation, passion and grandeur.

Already, other newcomers were gathering in the hall, their faces mirroring his own emotions – anxiety, fear, anticipation. Among them Leonard spotted a girl with bright orange hair and a sharp, focused gaze. She, too, was studying the hall, eyes moving attentively over every detail.

Her hair burns like sunset… the girl from the carriage. But her eyes are cold now, Leonard thought.

He drew a deep breath. The Trial of Fire was beginning.

Silence fell over the hall. The flame of the magical chandelier flickered, as if sensing the approach of something great. The air seemed to grow denser, richer, as though the hall itself was holding its breath.

On the dais before the flaming ring, a tall figure appeared.

He stepped forward – majestic, like fire bound into human form. His cloak, woven from fabric that shimmered like heated metal, gleamed in the light. His eyes were twin embers of amber, burning with inner flame, holding age-old wisdom and power. His face was stern but not cruel – the face of a ruler bearing the weight of authority.

The mage raised his hand, and the flames around them surged higher at his command, flooding the hall with golden light. His voice rang out like thunder in summer heat – deep and commanding:

“Welcome, newcomers. Those who have stepped for the first time within the walls of the Castle of Fire. You have all come here hoping to gain strength, to learn the secrets of flame, to enter a world of magic that does not forgive weakness. My name is Lord Helion, and I am the master of this castle.”

He slowly let his gaze pass over the gathered students.

“Fire is not just an element. It is the living breath of the world – its pulse, its fury, and its warmth. It can destroy and create, burn to ash and grant light. You will have to learn to understand it, to command and direct it – but above all, to respect it.”

Leonard felt the Lord’s words reach into the very core of him, stirring something deep in his chest.

“The Trial of Fire is not merely a test of your power,” Helion continued. “It will show what your spirit is worth. Those who fear fire, who cannot accept its nature, are not worthy of this strength. There are no accidental people here. Each of you has been called by fate itself – and each of you will either leave this place stronger, or not leave it at all.”

Once more, the hall fell silent – even the fire seemed to listen.

“Face the trial with honor and dignity,” Lord Helion said, inclining his head slightly. “Prove that the flame in your hearts is not a spark that will fade, but a fire capable of burning forever.”

He lowered his hand, and the flames in the lamps settled again. The silence in the hall felt almost deafening.

“Let us begin.”