Page 93 of Mountains of Mist and Magic

Phillippe then realized what he had been missing out on—and how lucky he was to now possess it. A million thoughts ran through his head. He could rule properly now. The Snow Lands would be his. As firstborn with magical powers, he now outranked Grayden. For a second, he felt a thrill like he'd never experienced. But then, he realized that he would never usurp his brother. Even though Grayden had willingly asked him to step in his place so he could be with Renya, he had resisted.

He didn't want it. And even if he did, he wouldn't take it from Grayden.

But that didn't mean he couldn't enjoy his newfound powers. He'd have to train when he got back, perhaps Renya or even Cyrus could help him...

Or even Grayden, if their mission was successful. He'd have his full powers back then, too.

Before Phillippe could finish contemplating all the ramifications, the walls of the chamber started to rumble, and a piece of a crumbling column blocked the opening he had crawled through. He hastened down the corridor, in search of another way out. The far side of the chamber emptied into darkness, but he made his way through the dark, feeling the wall and following it. After a few more feet, he could see brightness ahead. But the nearer he got, the more uneasy he felt. As he approached the light, he felt heat radiating from the source of the gleam.

The chamber opened into a lake of lava. Bubbling up and sizzling, the lava covered the entire floor of the room. Giant streams of lava poured in from the sides of the chamber, from the top of the walls. The lava level was slowly rising, filling him with instant panic. Phillippe could see a door on the other end, but there was no way to traverse the chasm while avoiding the lava. Cursing, he looked around him, but the walls were still trembling, and more columns fell, blocking the path behind him.

How could he possibly get out of this? He looked at the hot magma, listening to it hiss and gurgle. The heat was so intense that he could feel the burn against his cheek, feel the perspiration forming on his brow and back.

Then it hit him. He had magic now. Laughing, he reached out with his fingers, summoning the ice. It took a few tries, but soon he was laying sheet after sheet down upon the lava. His aim wasn't great, and he sometimes had problems bringing it forth, but it worked. He moved quickly, trying to pile the ice as fast as he could.

At one point, a burst of flames erupted from the lava, shooting up towards him. Phillippe reacted instinctively, throwing his hands up and conjuring a shield of ice. The flames collided with the frozen barrier, creating a hissing cloud of steam. The ice melted rapidly, but it bought him precious seconds to step back and reassess.

He moved cautiously across the ice bridge he had created, the intense heat still pressing in from all sides. The ice beneath his feet creaked and groaned, threatening to give way at any moment. Phillippe concentrated, continuously reinforcing the bridge as he moved, leaving a trail of frost in his wake.

As he reached the middle of the chamber, another burst of flames erupted, this time from the ceiling. Phillippe reacted without thinking, extending his hands and conjuring another wall of ice to block the fire. The flames licked at the wall, but it held strong, protecting him from the heat. Sweat poured down his face, both from the exertion of using his new powers and the oppressive heat surrounding him.

Little by little, he made his way across the lava to the other side of the door. The air shimmered with heat, making it difficult to see clearly. Suddenly, a section of the ceiling collapsed, sending a shower of molten rock raining down. Phillippe dove forward, rolling across his ice bridge, barely avoiding being hit. He quickly spun around, creating a dome of ice over himself as more debris fell.

Practically giddy with the rush of using his powers, he pushed forward, finally reaching the end of the chamber, where a massive door stood, engraved with more ancient runes. He placed his hands on the door, expecting it to open, but instead, the runes began to glow with a fiery light. The door heated rapidly, becoming too hot to touch. Phillippe stepped back, realizing he needed to cool it down.

He concentrated, feeling the power within him surge. He placed his hands near the door, and frost spread across its surface. The glowing runes dimmed as the ice took hold, and with a final push of energy from deep inside him, the door creaked open, revealing another passage.

Phillippe stepped through, the heat of the previous chamber fading behind him. The fresh air hit his face, cooling the lingering heat of the lava.

He was outside the temple.

Was his trial over? He glanced around, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. Just a path continuing up the mountain, the dusty trail beckoning him forward.

He shrugged, restarting his journey upwards. But with every step he took, he flexed his fingers automatically, letting the flurries flutter through the air. Although he had only had magic for a little less than an hour, he felt as if it was the single piece missing from his life—and he couldn't wait to explore every single possibility.

As he climbed higher, the air grew thinner and colder. Phillippe found himself instinctively using his new powers to create small pockets of warmth around him, marveling at how naturally it came to him now. He wondered if this was how Grayden and the others felt all the time, this constant awareness of the magic flowing through them.

The path narrowed as he ascended, winding around precarious cliffs and over narrow ledges. At one point, he came to a gap in the path, too wide to jump. Without hesitation, he extended his hands, creating a bridge of ice across the chasm. As he crossed, he couldn't help but laugh at the sheer joy of it all.

Phillippe continued his ascent, his newfound powers making the journey easier than he could have ever imagined. Yet, as he neared what he hoped was the summit, a nagging thought crept into his mind. Had he truly completed the trial? His victory felt…anticlimactic.

He pushed the doubt aside, focusing instead on the path ahead. Whatever challenges lay before him, he was ready to face them.

Chapter Forty-Six

Renya awoke with a start. Her entire body was cold, and she was lying on the floor of an enormous canyon. She pushed herself into a sitting position, rubbing her arms to try and bring some warmth into her extremities. Her head felt fuzzy, and she had trouble recalling the series of events that had brought her here. She stood up, her legs wobbly, and looked around her.

Even though she was at the bottom of a chasm, it was still surprisingly light, although she couldn't see any trace of sunlight. It was almost as though the canyon was lit by magic.

Magic. It quickly came back to her—the mountain, the trials...and the fall. She knew she had fallen off the bridge, but there was no way she would have survived the fall. It must have been some kind of magical manifestation, similar to falling through the portal in the Snow Lands.

Renya was now on edge, her nerves aware that this was a part of the trial she must face. Just as she squared her shoulders in resolve, she caught a glimpse of something moving past her side. She quickly turned, but there was nothing there. Still, she felt the hairs on her arms stand on end, and she turned on her heels, hyper aware.

She felt something move quickly past her ankles, and she looked down, but saw nothing. Instead, a bright flashing light caught her attention. Directly behind her, an elaborate sword, encrusted with a plethora of gems that caught the light and seemed to sparkle and beckon to her. The sword blade was lodged into the side of the canyon, and if the situation hadn't been so creepy, she would have laughed and compared the experience to the legend of Arthur.The similarities were striking, she thought, as she approached the sword.

At her back, just out of the line of her vision, she could feel something sinister. Yet whenever she'd turn her head, the apparitions were gone.

Renya's fear mounted as she withdrew the blade from the wall, preparing for the inevitable attack. The cold steel felt reassuring in her palms, but the feeling only lasted a split second.

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