His mind grew light, as though an emotion long dormant had begun to shine. So much so that if he had eyes, they too would have shone with the same quiet, kindled hope.
If he had a body, it would have been trembling with an emotion he could not quite name.
Because nothing had been there for so long.
As an Antherion, controlling your emotions was like being born with a blade mortals lacked the knowledge to wield.
And ever since entering the trial, he had been alone. No matter how many steps he took, thoughts he suppressed, nothing seemed to change.
Eventually, his mind had become tainted by a certain despair.
But now everything was different...!
He took a step forward, smiling brightly as a myriad of emotions settled into one feeling.
'Look at me surviving. I will make it...! I will see the sun rise again!'
Though the situation was unfamiliar, he was certain of it. It was truth, it was his faith.
In a place where his emotions were as vast and ever-changing as a volatile storm, he no longer knew sadness.
Because staring at the flame ignited hope in him. He was a mortal after all... it was normal, it was meant to be... but for him, it had never been.
Such unwarranted emotions were undeniable. Even if he wished otherwise, these emotions felt genuine.
Yet somewhere deep within him, the thoughts and emotions racing through his being felt strangely exaggerated, as though something was pressing against the deepest corners of his mind and forcing them to surface.
The flame seemed to be the only thing that remained clear. The flame blazed, then roared, its alluring elegance resounding deeply in his mind. Growing endlessly, expanding, ever-changing, filling the void with its vastness.
Watching it with a crude nostalgia, he walked, and yet he made no noticeable distance.
And so he ran, faster and faster, as much as he could because he knew he could make it.
'So bright! Beautiful! So peaceful! In comparison, I am so small... so... Will I make it...?—'
'I will!'
He knew he would not fail. He knew he would become enlightened, succeed, and be granted nirvana.
Because he finally had what he had been lacking for so long.
'Two hundred and sixty-three steps,' he muttered.
After taking his 300th step, Oren froze, and thoughts racing through his mind slowly drifted.
'Since when was I so urgent?'
He forced a step, maintaining a slow momentum. No one was there; he was also in a void of all places, and it seemed like nothing would happen any time soon.
So... eventually he would make it. There was no point in rushing. He would pass the trial eventually. It would happen.
Just as everything else would.
It did not matter what time. If he was meant to succeed, he would, and if he wasn't, he wouldn't. Nothing he did now could change what was set.
He shook off the submissive thoughts, slightly disagreeing with himself, then dismissed the idea of failing.
It made him wonder, though, will everyone else fail? The fact his trial had not started made him feel entitled to have one. Maybe it was because he was an Antherion, that becoming Enlightened would allow him to ascend further.
Was that even possible?
Nevertheless, he did not feel the urge to race for it. Instead he walked calmly, watching blissfully as the flame got closer.
He told himself, 'Patience is bliss. No matter now or later, I will have my nirvana. I will have enlightenment too, so there is no need to rush.'
There was no need to do anything other than walk, casting his gaze on the flame.
He would savour this sight thoroughly.
But since when was nirvana a physical thing? A flame that embodied desire, visible to a mortal?
He frowned, then smiled, then dismissed the thought.
'Where am I being taken to?'
No one answered, for no one was there. In the void, he was alone. The trial was perilous and lonely, hopeless and discomforting.
It was him and only him. He could only get himself out of this. No one was here to save him, rescue him, just as no one would save him from the Revos Verum.
The more he thought on it, unease began to simmer in his mind.
That flame? How do I know it is nirvana? How do I know it's real?
That it's not just an illusion made to trap me here?
His mind throbbed in reaction to these thoughts, easily overcome with emotions.
Out of all of them, secondary feelings, a primary one anchored itself in the centre of his mind.
A sadness so profound that, if he continued feeling this way, his sudden bliss would be washed away.
It felt like drowning in a sea of flames, but what he felt was not the crisp burning of despair, but a refreshing clarity he had long forgotten.
Attachment...
That was one of only two options. He could only abide by one.
He sighed in his mind.
In the past, it would've been easier, so much easier. He would've been able to do it, succeed. Just a moment ago he knew he could...
He wanted to feel that determination, that assurance, but it was fading, like every other feeling for some reason.
But now, he wasn't so sure.
Uncertain, he could not trust himself or his decisions.
And so, he questioned again.
'Why am I doing this? Walking, moving, fighting against the void, keeping my thoughts together? Isn't it so pointless?'
He stepped forward.
'Is there a point in doing this? What is my trial?'
His thoughts were sombre, joyful, irrational, and irritated, twisting into an endless array of emotions.
'Is my nirvana real?'
This time, the emotions he felt suddenly settled. He no longer felt happy, sad, annoyed, or that heavenly bliss. He did not feel anything anymore.
Only a drive.
Because there was a sound, a thought.
It was himself, and yet his tone was deranged and insidious, whilst calm and delightful.
What he was searching for had always been nirvana. Because longing was benevolent, and it promised peace and serenity.
After all, that was the Trial of Longing, a trial that would bestow upon one what they longed for.
Oren paused, as though recalling something he did not remember learning.
'It also wants me to reach enlightenment. It desires for me to be happy and prosper.'
'It will help fulfil my own desire.'
'If I walk long enough, I will reach it... my destiny.'
'My nirvana.'
He thought this positively, but as it faded into the expanse and he pressed forward, the silhouette of the blazing flame rose exponentially, as though to burn his thoughts away beneath its promise.
'Why do I feel like this?'
Oren let out a quiet chuckle, even as his mind trembled in agony. He could not help but feel as though he was exploiting the Trial of Longing.
Its benevolence meant he would leave with two things.
But there was a chance he would not leave at all.
As he drifted further, he looked out into the abyss of the Trial of Longing.
He stepped toward the glowing flame. Fumes of irresistible white light glistened before him.
From where he stood, they almost seemed reachable.
Enlightenment was close. Nirvana was too.
But he no longer longed for nirvana, no—
'I know I don't... so why do I feel this way? I never wanted it!'
His memory was becoming hazier and hazier, a mist shrouding the thoughts on succeeding the trial.
Why leave, why beat the trial when he was perfectly fine here? He did not need nourishment or sleep; the strain on his mind was slowly losing grip....
This could be home...
He shook his head.
Nirvana... peace, longing, no, those were his regrets. It was the trial. The Trial of Longing was using those regrets, his emotions, like a blade.
And he was that blade, unable to escape the firm grip of its wielder. But now, he no longer struggled against it, because he knew.
'Are these even my thoughts?!'
He looked at the flame with a mask of indifference that slowly cracked the longer he peered into its depths, revealing countless emotions.
And when he looked down at his illusory body, he felt a deep, static emotion, one that clung to his mind.
This feeling wasn't uncertainty anymore. Nor doubt or hope; it was none of the emotions that had centred themselves in his mind from his first steps into the Trial of Longing, but a revelation.
'Seven days, seven days is all I have,' he reminded himself.
"I had seven days... now, I don't know."
In the Trial of Longingtime in general, had become strangely hard to estimate. Oren wasn't entirely sure how many days he had spent roaming the trial grounds.
But Oren wasn't lost, he had finally reached the flame and was preparing for what it beheld. But it might have been there to entertain him, to enamour him, trap him, so that he would waste time.
And yet, when he watched the flame, nothing else seemed to matter.
Because there it was, waiting, burning beautifully, mesmerising him, illuminating the void by its elegant dance, swaying again and again, growing brighter and brighter, the flame stayed in this ever-changing, untouchable shape that guided him across its endless expanse.
It could be the time he had left, or an illusion... Maybe it really was nirvana, he scoffed.
Or—
No—
He glanced behind himself, then back at the flame.
He did not know what it was. It could be an illusion conjured by the Trial of Longing, or a hallucination forcibly imposed onto his mind, to keep him there, to give him reason to stay, to desire something.
But he knew one thing. The trial, it, it wasn't entirely true to its name...
With that thought, he dismissed all others as he stepped forward, disappearing into the radiant white flame.
"Do not be afraid. This is only what we wanted."
Oren shut his eyes instantly.
There was a serene silence for a few moments, but as time passed, each moment felt more and more wrong.
There was a shift, not in flames but the trial grounds themselves. It was changed, trembling but all he could see was a crimson red.
As the world reformed, a question bloomed in his scattered thoughts, fading as soon as it appeared.
But when Oren opened his eyes again, he was somewhere else entirely.
Amidst the silent chaos, he counted his final step.
Before he knew it, something changed, something in the core of his mind shifted ever so slightly.
He did not burn, no, in the heart of undulating flame, he changed.