It was back on that beach when I realized that most people, nearly all people, were sorely lacking in competence. Rarer still were those who displayed a whisper of excellence. Like a handful of brilliant gems hidden amongst a whole coastline of dirt and sand. It was these gems who built the world. Once I realized this I knew nobody could stop me. Even when they tried, while they squabbled over what I could or couldn’t do, I’d have already done it.

  -Harald Erling, as dictated to Leif Olander

  ***

  His path curved several times so he lost his line of sight to the outside. He had not been walking long when he came to a circular room. The statues continued around the outer edge, each holding a flame in some capacity.

  The room was empty except for a gaping hole in the ground. A stone slab stuck out into the opening, not quite to the center of the otherwise empty, black, space.

  Leif analyzed the statues. He examined the ceiling. He walked around the edge of the hole, looking into the black depths. There was nothing else in the room. Just him, the black hole, and the silent statues that watched him. Bloody hell.

  He set his pack down then slowly inched his way out onto the stone slab. He crept out cautiously until he stood at the end and looked down. The slab was solid. The darkness beneath him was complete. Bloody hell. Bloody Vigo.

  He stepped back then trotted back to the entrance where he collected several sturdy branches, then jogged back to the room with the hole. He set one aside then wrapped the remaining sticks together with a piece of his shirt.

  He wanted to light it with flint but he forced himself to channel his magic to light the fabric and the branches. When the bundle of sticks was sufficiently burning, Leif stepped onto the slab, and dropped it into the hole.

  The flaming bundle flew downwards. It seemed to fall forever. It lit up the smooth sides of the hole until it was too far away to see anything but the light from the flame. Then it disappeared without a sound. The effect was unnerving. He told himself it was too far away to hear. That whatever this puzzle was, whoever created it didn’t intend to send every wizard’s apprentice to their death. Vigo had been here. Vigo hadn’t sent him to his death. He could survive the fall. Oh bloody hell.

  He realized then that Vigo had said, “Leap into the darkness,” and that he’d meant it literally.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Leif did one more careful examination of the room. Finding nothing, he stepped up to the stone slab sticking out into space. He tightened the strap on his baldric and pulled on his scabbard, making sure it was secure. He did the same with his unstrung bow then he looped his pack onto his back. He considered taking off his cloak but, not knowing what to expect, he didn’t want to be without it. He held out the last branch he’d collected and wrapped a strip of his shirt sleeve around the top, then stepped to the edge.

  Leif looked down into the blackness. He strained his eyes one last time, knowing very well he could be jumping to his death. But Vigo had sent him here. It was on the map. He trusted Vigo. Leif closed his eyes then used his magic to light his makeshift torch. He looked around the room at the statues holding the flames one last time. He supposed it didn’t hurt that the random giant he’d met outside had wished him luck.

  Bloody hell. Leif leapt into the void.

  ***

  The darkness was complete.

  Outside of the meager light from his torch, Leif couldn’t see through the darkness below him or around him. He cut through the air like a bolt from a bow shot straight down. His torch sputtered and hissed at him as it tried to stay alight against the rush of air.

  He felt his heartbeat thumping in his chest. He couldn’t have been more foolish. He’d just jumped into a hole with no idea how deep it was or what the bottom was made of. He closed his eyes and shook his head as his hair whipped around his face.

  A sudden thought occurred to him. He drew on his magic and held it. The familiar warmth and energy flowed through him and he didn’t feel quite so hopeless. He felt strong; capable and light.

  He felt the energy swirling around him; the particles and waves in the air rushing past.

  Leif reached out with his will. He forced the air below him to consolidate beneath him. He hurled his torch downwards so he’d be able to see what was coming before he hit it. Then he refocused on the air, drawing more and more of the particles and pressure into a dense cylinder in the space beneath him.

  Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, his downward flight slowed. He couldn’t stop himself cutting through the air but he could slow himself enough to hopefully survive whatever he was about to land on.

  He continued falling but he watched the space beneath him with determination. The light from the torch filled his vision, making it hard to see beyond. He focused on the darkness; on what he was descending towards.

  The torch tore through the darkness before him. It burst out of the hole and into a large open cavern. Leif strained his eyes around the space. It was all dark cavernous stone walls, except for what appeared to be one large crack in the stone. He only saw it for a moment but another statue stood next to the crack, holding a small flame.

  Beneath him was calm, smooth, water - reflecting the torch light back at him and around the space. Leif laughed out loud. Relief coursed through him, peeling away the fear that had tightened in his chest. He could survive this. He grinned, then he poured more of his magic into the air below him. He slowed. Thanks to the density of the air he was falling considerably slower than when he first jumped. He still fell but he no longer raced. At this speed, falling into water would be easy.

  His torch hit the water and extinguished. Leif straightened his body and pointed his toes, then splashed down into the water.

  The water was cold, and impossibly dark. But he didn’t care. He was alive. The relief he felt was like nothing he’d experienced. It flooded through him and warmed him. Holding his breath, he reached through the water to his back and felt his pack and sword still fastened securely. His luck held.

  Leif reached his arms up to swim to the surface then swept them downwards to propel himself up.

  He didn’t move. He kicked his legs but something had wrapped around his ankles.

  He was stuck under the water.