Caim and Storm marveled at the stone bridge that carved across the sky. As Storm walked step after step, he couldn’t help but feel everything he once knew fading away behind him. Although he had felt traces of uncertainty in the past, it wasn’t comparable to walking into the dark as he were now. And as much as he tried to stop the whispering in his head, the deathly warnings of those who had spoken to him of the Soldier Games could not be silenced.  
             “This is the bridge,” Caim said, ecstatic. He raised his arms, staring around. “The one that connects the two worlds! We’re on it! We did it!” Storm held back from rolling his eyes. Of course, Caim’s mind was never in the same place as his was. It worked in a completely different manner. While both of them loved and sought adventures, Storm, much to his own dismay, could not stop himself from considering the worst possible scenarios. Maybe it was self-destructive, or perhaps, it was the logical, wise thing to do. On the other hand, Caim constantly walked forward into the void as if there was nothing in the universe that could stop him. Storm watched his brother walking ahead of him eagerly. It was almost as if his boldness and naivety were an armor that shielded him from things that would bring a normal person to their knees.
             I still can’t tell if you’re a total moron, fearless, or both, thought Storm. He let out a long, drawn-out breath, then let his eyes wander.
             The bridge was carved out of perfectly black stone, without a blemish or scratch visible at all. Despite the fact that he knew the bridge was hundreds of cycles old, it looked as if it had just been made. The width of it was equally as baffling, stretching out nearly the width of what Storm figured could match the entire city of Trestles. Looking past Caim, Storm’s eyes fell on the great coliseum, sitting upon the center of the bridge like a crown siting on the head of a king.
             Caim stopped in his tracks. “It’s huge! That’s where the tournament is!”  
             “You my friend, are a genius,” Storm muttered.   
             Caim wasn’t listening. “I wonder what kind of strong fighters we’ll meet in there . . . I bet they’re even stronger than grandpa!” Storm flinched ever so slightly at Caim’s mentioning of their grandfather. He hadn’t thought of the old man since the day before, and just imagining the old man’s wrath if he knew where they were . . .
“Doubtful,” said Storm. “Hard to imagine someone stronger than the old man. Even though we beat him . . .” He stopped and clenched his fist. “I don’t know,” said Storm. “It’s like, somewhere deep down, I feel like he’s untouchable.” He looked up at the coliseum in the distance.
“I know what you mean,” said Caim. “I’ve never seen the flares scared of anything except grandpa.” Storm glanced over at Caim oddly, wondering of his brother had touches of clairvoyance. Before he could say anything, Caim walked over to the wall at the side of the bridge. It was designed so there were no chances of people falling off. The guard walls were nearly ten feet tall, and made of flat unclimbable stone. He watched Caim jump up to the top of the guard wall, staring off the side of the bridge.  
             Caim waved his arm at Storm to come over. “This is crazy! Come check this out! I can see the entire world! I can see the bottoms of Falia and Risia! I can see all the roots hanging out from under Risia . . .” He paused in realization. “There must be a Great Tree on Risia too!” Caim cried.
             Reluctantly, Storm made his way over to the base of the wall. A moment later he had jumped up and was standing next to his brother. The sky stretched out before him like an ocean, and even when he stared straight down, he could see nothing beneath their floating lands but clouds.
             Down.
             Straight down.  
             Storm felt his stomach turn and a tingle run through the bones in his feet. All of the sudden, he did not feel secure standing on the edge of the bridge, and took an uneasy step backwards. Continuing to stare off at the slow pilgrimage of the clouds, he suddenly had the feeling that the bridge itself was swaying back and forth. He pulled himself further back from the edge.  
             Caim eyed Storm suspiciously, “Oi, you alright? You scared?”
             Storm took a deep breath, then turned and met Caim’s eyes. “Caim, don’t be stupid.” He tried to seem confident, but his clammy palms told him otherwise.  
             Caim smiled a long, slow smile. “Then come stand over here like this.” He walked to the very edge of the railing and turned his back to the open sky, lifting his arms out to his sides.
             Storm crossed his arms. “You can’t tell me what to do.” He looked back towards the coliseum. “Besides, we have to hurry. Don’t you remember what the guards said? All the contestants are already gathering at the base of the, of the . . . what did they call it?”  
             Caim’s eyes grew wide in astonishment. “You are, aren’t you!?” As he turned sideways, Caim’s foot slipped and he fell straight off the side of the wall, screaming as he vanished into the empty sky.
             “You idiot!” Storm cried, dashing forward, but balked as soon as he came close to the edge. His panic, however, was short-lived, for just over the side of the bridge and floating in the air was Caim, clutching his stomach with both hands and laughing hysterically.
             “How can you be scared of heights when you can fly!?” Caim roared in laughter.
             “I hate you,” Storm murmured. He immediately walked away from the edge and jumped back down to the walkway. Turning towards the coliseum in the distance, he continued walking. In the meantime, Caim had not finished having fun, and slowly but surely, crept through the air, floating with his arms and legs crossed while making little turns and flips.
             “Stop doing that,” said Storm, becoming more and more frustrated.
             Ignoring him, Caim continued floating above Storm’s head, and pretended to stroke his imaginary beard. He then began mocking his grandfather’s voice and character as he spoke. “Hmm, why Storm, now that I think about it, I’ve never actually seen you fly outside of Inner Deep, ka . . .”
             Storm’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Inner Depths. And what exactly are you trying to say, Caim?” He stopped and looked up at his brother. His eyes were sharp and angry, seeking his moment for vengeance.
             Caim continued stroking his imaginary beard. “Well maybe you’re scared of heights because you can’t fly . . . ka.” A grin curled across Caim’s face. 
             “Whatever,” answered Storm, returning back to walking. “I don’t care what you think.”  
             “I think you do,” answered Caim, floating along with Storm as he walked. He stayed a good ten feet above Storm, then began taunting him and singing. “You’re a good little rock, but forgot your courage socks.”
             “That’s it,” said Storm, stopping. His boots cracked the stone at his feet, and suddenly, he was level with Caim in the air, staring him dead in the eyes. Caim’s eyes widened.
             “Sorry?” Caim said, shrugging. At that, Storm grabbed his ankle and spun him round and round before launching him down into the bridge beneath them.
             “A stone afraid of sky, will never learn to fly!” Caim cried out as he struck the bridge, creating a giant puff of dust and debris. Storm landed down softly beside his brother.
             “Told you I could fly,” said Storm, then turned his back and began walking again.
             Caim waited until Storm had walked a dozen or so paces away, then muttered under his breath. “You only jumped and you know it.” He then raised himself to his feet, brushed himself off, then lifted his hands behind his head and began whistling, following his brother towards the coliseum.   
             As they proceeded along the bridge, something in the distance caught their eyes. Not long after they could hear the distant beat of drums and faint smell of food cooking. Dozens upon dozens of little market stands could soon be seen, and Caim’s mouth began to water as they made their way closer. They each began to walk a little bit faster, both of them getting a little more excited with every step.
They soon came upon what looked like the setup of food and tents and games for when the bridge was opened up for the Falians later on. Caim walked slowly and wide-eyed, as he stared into the different tents and stands. From odd looking trinkets to swords and potions in bottles, Caim examined each item with all the curiosity or a child. Storm noticed unlike the previous section of the bridge, the part they had come upon had statues structed along the outer wall. Each one was sculpted and carved with the utmost precision, from heroic looking warriors in grand cloaks to others that depicted the many different creatures of their world. Some of them he had never seen before in his life, including a giant looking owl that would have stood taller than himself were it alive. He noticed that there seemed to be more of the huge owl statues than any other creature, and took note of the fact that each one was, oddly enough, wearing a scarf.
Caim pointed at one. “Look it’s Galfungyon!”
Storm sighed and then smiled. He thought back to the great creature from two nights before. “Seriously neo, you have to work on your remembering of names.”
“I wonder how many people come to this tournament,” said Caim, looking around.
“The old man said everyone on Soria watches the games.”
Caim scratched his head. “I wonder how many that is.” 
“Me too,” Storm realized and kept walking.
Carts of meat and vegetables and desserts were lined along the walls as well, while crafts, weapons, armor, alchemy shops and other things the boys couldn’t recognize opened up before them. The crowd of people on the bridge grew thicker and thicker as they inched their way forward. Caim’s eyes spent a large amount of time surveying a tent with hundreds of shimmering swords hanging from within its canvas walls.
“Come on, Caim,” Storm had to stop and say several times as they passed through.  
             The tents stretched on for quite a while, and as they moved, the coliseum grew bigger and bigger. Even from afar it looked enormous, but when coming upon the base of it, they felt as if they were staring up at a white mountain capable of rivaling the Great Tree. The entrance to the coliseum was flanked by two of the biggest statues Storm had ever seen. They were enormous dragons, and from the looks of it, Storm thought that the stairs leading up to the entrance ran up the dragon’s tails. Storm leaned his head back, trying to see the very top of it.
             “Wow,” he whispered. He felt a cool breeze brush past him, and an odd shiver ran through his bones. Turning his eyes away from the top, he looked around, feeling something strange sitting amongst them. Whatever it was, he couldn’t put his finger on it.
             Something about the coliseum wasn’t right. It was almost as if an old emotion were encapsulating it, something he could feel around but not see. They soon came upon the colossal set of stairs running up the tails of the dragons. They tried to follow the stairs up with their eyes, yet the summit was clouded from their sight.
             “Do we go up?” Caim asked.             
             “I don’t think so,” said Storm. “The guards said something about meeting at the base of it.” He looked forward into the gloomy darkness behind the stairs. He couldn’t see that well, but something inside him told him that was the way. The prospect was becoming more and more daunting, and a feeling of anxiety had been growing within him along the entirety of the bridge.  
             “I have a feeling it’s this way,” said Storm, pointing past the stairs.  
             “But I wanna see what’s at the top,” Caim moaned. Storm waved his hand over his head in disagreement, and started walking away. Caim looked back up at to the top of the coliseum. Then he looked at Storm. Then back to the top. And back to Storm. Frustrated, he sighed and followed his brother.
             “Why is it so misty around this place?” Caim stopped. “Wait, is it mist? What is this?”
             “How am I supposed to know?” Storm answered, frustrated about not knowing the answer himself. “Everything about this coliseum is confusing.” He didn’t even want to start thinking about how such a gigantic coliseum could be supported by the bridge. Nothing about it made any sense.
             The farther they walked, the more the air became damp and misty, and soon it was hard to see anything at all. It was as if a moat of swirling thick fog rotated and clung to the lower base of the coliseum. Even the black stone at their feet grew hard to see. If it wasn’t for the faint blue lanterns on the side of the coliseum, they wouldn’t have been able to see anything at all.  
             Storm walked in silence with his eyes closed, guiding himself with only the feel of aura around him. Before him stretched a dark world, pierced here and there by little pricks of light, each one representing the life force of a person. Like this, Storm could not only see much further than usual, but could also sense everything around him; from the lifeless objects of swords and shields, to the different assortment of food in the tents they had long since passed. Because of this, Storm realized they were coming upon a lone Sorian, sitting by himself at the base of the coliseum.
             Storm opened his eyes to see a very thin man sitting with his back against the coliseum. Looking closer, he reconsidered his first thought. Sitting might have implied comfort, or the man taking a rest. But this was entirely different. The man had his back leaned against the coliseum and his legs sprawled out in a manner that may have hinted at too much liquor, yet Storm for some reason doubted that, as well. He wore armor that had seen its better days, and his beard was thick, scraggly and unkempt. Only one of his eyes was open, but it had the look of someone who wasn’t looking at or for anything at all. The strangest thing of all was a thick black shackle choking the man’s neck, chaining him like a slave to the side of the coliseum.
             The moment Caim saw the man, he immediately ran over to see if he was alright, but got a response he wasn’t expecting in the least. Storm watched as the man recoiled into himself, the same way a terrified child might cower in fear over being beaten. The man held his hands over his face, muttering apologetic words under his breath over and over.
             “Hey,” Caim said softly, “sorry about that, I didn’t mean to scare you.” He backed up a step. Storm walked up behind Caim, staring intently at the petrified man who wouldn’t stop whispering under his breath.
             “What do you think happened to him?” Storm asked.
             “I don’t know,” said Caim, placing one of his hands on the chains. “But it looks—,” The instant Caim’s hand touched the chains, the man jumped up and yanked it out of Caim’s hand. He was breathing heavy as could be, both of his eyes wide and frantic looking. He pulled the chains away from Caim’s hand, then slowly withdrew back to his place on the ground.
             “Please . . . please don’t hurt me,” the man whispered, unable to meet their eyes. Storm kneeled down, and tried to look the man in the eye.
             “Don’t you want to break free?” Storm asked.
             The man immediately turned and stared at Storm, then shook his head violently. “No, no, no, no, no! I would n-never! I would never t-try! Please s-stop the tricks!” He violently shoved Storm, knocking him back a few steps. Just as the man was pulling his arm back, Storm recognized something on the inside of the man’s bicep.
             “Caim, do you see that? On his arm?”
             Caim looked closely. “He’s . . . he’s a Falian?”
             “Yeah,” said Storm, feeling a shiver run through his body. “I have a bad feeling about this. Something tells me that passing onto this bridge was a very bad idea.” Caim was silent.
             It felt to Storm as if he stood there contemplating his situation for shades on end, but nothing seemed like the right choice. If they broke the man free, they would be surely caught, and their identities would be revealed. He choked back a lump in his throat, realizing that he was starting to get a better idea of what the punishment might be for what they were doing.
             Storm turned to Caim, who had continued, without success, to convince the man to talk to him.
             “C’mon Caim, we have to go,” said Storm, the words dry in his mouth. “There’s nothing we can do for him. We don’t even know why he’s here or where we could take him.”
             Caim didn’t move for a breath of time. Finally, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of dried bread. He placed it on the ground close to the man. “This is for you,” said Caim. “And don’t worry,” he added. “I will come back and free you from here.” At that, Caim stood and walked past Storm. The look in his eyes had changed. It wasn’t the same happy go lucky demeanor he often wore. It was darker, angrier, the same look that comes into his eyes when Caim decides he’s going to do something no matter what.
             Storm took one last look at the man, his body frail and beaten, his mind tormented and broken. Without so much as a word, Storm turned and followed his brother.
             Was he trespassing? Storm thought. He had armor on . . . maybe he–? Storm stopped himself mid-thought. Worrying about what happened to him is only going to worsen my nerves for what’s to come. If we’re going to make it through this alive, I need to focus on myself for now.  
             They hadn’t walked too far before Storm’s senses twitched. Closing his eyes and sensing for aura, he found what they had been looking for the entire time. At least a hundred powerful auras were not far ahead of them, all gathered at what seemed like the entrance to something Storm couldn’t discern.
             These must be the contestants, Storm thought.
              The strength of their individual auras far outreached the nobles they’d encountered in the restaurant. The moment Storm focused on any of them, he could feel their power like holding his hand over an open flame. As he slowly took them in, his heart began to beat a little harder. He found himself clenching one of his hands into a fist as he walked. This was it. They were about to come across the most powerful people in the world.
             And then came doubt.
             It creeped into him as doubt usually does, wrapping its cold fingers around his drive, suffocating all the positivity until one had no other choice but to focus on the terrible things that could happen. With each step forward, Storm desperately attempted to fight it back, to regain control of self, but to no avail.
             Flashes of the man chained to the side of the coliseum sat in the back of his mind. One moment it was the man, shackled in terror, the next moment it was Storm, helpless and petrified. His thoughts began to grow violent as they ran faster and faster. What would happen if they were caught? What if the nobles saw through their pitifully ill-fitting armor? They would be heavily outnumbered, and despite his greatest attempts to hold back the thought, he knew that their grandfather would not be around to save them this time around. He had warned them about this. This was their choice. Their fate. Their deaths.
             Storm came to a sudden stop, resting his hand on his hilt. Taking several deep breaths, he focused his mind. This was his choice. He had trained his entire life for this moment. He had conquered fear time and time again, and this was no different. At the very least, it would prove to be the greatest fight of his life, and if he lost, it only meant he wasn’t strong enough. If he was truly meant to become the greatest swordsman to ever live, then this would not be the death of him. Storm found himself grinning at the prospect, his fear consumed by the flames of his ambition.
             And then he felt it.
             It wasn’t like any of the other auras. It wasn’t like anything he had ever sensed before. If the other auras up until this point felt like holding his hand over an open flame, this one felt as if he were standing before a wild and raging inferno. It seared his senses, ravaged his mind and tortured his thoughts. Cold sweat dripped down his hand and off his fingers. Turning very slowly to face the monstrous power, Storm found that it was coming from the castle of Risia.
             As he stared at the overwhelming power pulsing from the castle, he felt as if his mind were being sucked towards it. He could no longer prevent himself from fixating on it. He could no longer open his eyes. There, within the walls of the great castle were several incredible energies, all gathered together, each one glowing with the power and fury of a sun. Storm took an uneasy step backwards, his entire entity in shock.
             Why can’t I control myself!? His thoughts were screaming as he tried to regain control of his senses.
             And then everything went blank as he felt something entirely different. This was not coming from the castle, but from far, far beneath it. Unlike the other auras, this one was cold and dark, malicious and ancient.
Storm suddenly felt as if he were being dragged underwater, his breaths becoming shallow and jagged. And then, just like that, the presence found him. Images of a cavern engulfed in flame came unto his mind. In the center he could see something. A silhouette. Long white hair. Blood red eyes opening, staring at him, and the slow snarl of a grin as the figure stood, holding his hand out towards him.
             “Storm?” Caim asked, placing his hand on his brother’s shoulder.
Storm’s eyes snapped open. Life surged back into his body like oxygen after nearly drowning, and it took all his strength not to collapse to his knees. Several beads of sweat dripped off his chin.
             “What is it?” Caim asked, staring at his brother. “You look sick.”
             “Caim . . .” Storm spoke through deep breaths as he tried to collect himself. “You . . . were right.”
             “Right about what?”
             Storm stood to his feet and straightened his shoulders. He turned to look back at the castle, but he could no longer sense any of the powers. They were gone.
             He turned and faced Caim, his eyes wild with adrenaline.  
“There are those stronger than the old man.”              

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