"Farren stood in the center of the room, and met the gaze of his accusers. He was guilty. There was no question. But this seemed a little extreme for trespassing. He was alone in a circular room that resembled a cave. The similarities stopped at the wide window carved into the wall across from him, and the pole coming up from the center of the floor.
The pole itself was clear, as if it had been crafted from a single crystal. As Farren noted his surroundings, the pole sparked. Or at least he thought it had. Again. This time he saw it. A tiny blue flame lifted off the surface of the pole, and danced. A split second later, it was gone. Great, he thought. That whack on the head must have been harder than I thought.
Even as he thought it, his right hand was moving to the pole's surface. A small part of his mind warned him that this was a very bad idea, but most of his brain was suddenly entranced in the swirl of colors rising to meet his hand. Pale egg shell blues swam with indigos, cobalt, and aqua-marine. As they touched his finger tips, his hand felt drawn to the pole as if by physical force. Contact. It was cold. Numbingly cold. Instantly he tried to pull his hand away, as alarms sounded in his brain. Pull! his brain screamed at him. As he pulled, his finger tips actually started to sink into the pole, disappearing completely. He had been in hundreds of bad situations, but this was quickly starting to head to the top of his list. As his mind tried to grasp what was happening to him, his accusers watched with an air of boredom. They had said it was The Test. If he failed, he would cease to exist. On this plane or any other. If he succeeded, he had the aid of ten thousand battle hardened warriors. His mind raced. He didn't dare pull again. Half his hand was gone, already. He kept his left hand out behind him, as if the distance would protect him. Ten thousand warriors. He couldn't afford to lose that. He had to get out of this room. Pulling again, he watched in horror as his arm slid into nothingness up to his elbow. Oh Gods, he thought. He wanted to scream, but he needed those men. Without them, his people were as good as gone. All he had wanted was to find a way to help. And then the elves had caught him. He prided himself on his fighting prowess, but they had dropped him like a child. And now this. The Test. What was this Test? How could you possibly survive this thing? Elven and human relations had always been a bit tense, so why would they offer so much aid if he passed this test? Was it just a sick joke? Some elven tease? He pulled again, and his arm sank another few inches. Damn, damn, damn. He frantically searched the eyes of the elves for any sign or clue. Nothing. They still looked bored, in fact. As the first signs of shock were just registering in his brain, it happened. The leader, a tall dark skinned warrior, smiled. What the...? It was a smile that said "trust me". But how? "Trust me", the smile seemed to say. Ever a practical man, he realized he had no other viable options. Gathering his will, and taking a deep breath, he threw himself into the pole...
And was instantly repelled. With enough force to send him crashing into the wall behind him.
As he lay stunned on the room's floor, the elves began to sing.
At first it was only the ones who had observed the strange human
survive his ordeal. Soon other voices joined in. Soft melodies
rang out from every corner of the valley, until it seemed as if
the trees themselves were ringing with song. As the new voices
added layers to the song, the air itself began to change. The
trees began to tremble, and the grasses were blowing as if there
a mighty wind. All the colors of the spectrum began to dance throughout
the valley, weaving a tapestry of light and sound that stripped
the illusions from Farren's mind. Leaving the peaceful valley
replaced by a thriving city."
What would a Being from a time of Magic and Myth be doing in a time like this?
