The Trial of Iron
Number Five didn’t move the staff. Instead, he gripped it with both hands, his knuckles whitening like sun-bleached bone. The golden discs of his eyes locked onto Andrew Brooks.
"Strength is not just the ability to lift," Number Five boomed, his voice rattling the loose gravel at their feet. "In the In-Between, strength is the ability to hold on when the universe tries to shake you loose. You, the one with the broad shoulders. Step forward."
Andrew’s heart hammered against his ribs. He looked at Fox, who gave a small, grim nod. Andrew stepped into the giant’s shadow, feeling the heat radiating off Number Five’s bronze skin.
"I'm Andrew," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "What do you want?"
"The Bridge of Light is not a path for the weak," Five said. He reached out and unhooked one of the massive iron chains from his harness. It was thick, each link the size of a dinner plate, and it pulsed with a faint, cold blue light. He dropped it into the dust between them. "Pick it up. Carry it to the threshold. If you drop it, you stay on this side of the line forever."
Andrew looked at the chain. It didn't look impossible, but as he reached down and gripped the cold iron, the world tilted. The chain didn't just weigh fifty pounds—it felt like it weighed a thousand. It wasn't just metal; it was heavy with the gravity of the county itself.
"Ugh!" Andrew grunted, his muscles bulging. His face turned a deep crimson.
"It’s not just weight, Andrew!" Michael King shouted, leaning forward. "It’s a conceptual load! Don't just lift it—will it to move!"
Number Five watched with an expressionless face. "The chain is the weight of your doubts, Andrew Brooks. It is the memory of every person you couldn't save. It is the fear of never seeing Taylorville again. Lift your burdens, or be crushed by them."
Andrew’s boots sank an inch into the road. His hamstrings felt like they were about to snap. For a second, he saw the faces of the stone villagers; he felt the cold breath of the King Führer. The weight was unbearable.
No, Andrew thought, his teeth grinding together so hard he tasted copper. I’m not a statue. I’m not a patient. I’m Andrew Brooks, and I’m going home.
With a guttural roar that echoed off the white marble cliffs of Harthpool, Andrew surged upward. The muscles in his back coiled like snakes. The blue light in the chain flared, resisting him, but he forced his knees to lock. He stood upright, the massive iron links draped over his shoulders.
"Move," Five commanded.
Every step was a battle. Andrew’s vision blurred with sweat. He felt the other boys flanking him, their presence the only thing keeping him from collapsing. Nathan reached out to help, but Number Five raised a warning finger. This was Andrew’s bridge to build.
Ten feet. Twenty. The air around the chain began to hum with the "In-Between" frequency.
With one final, staggering lunge, Andrew reached the edge where the dirt road met the white light of the bridge. He slammed the chain down. The impact didn't make a thud; it made a sound like a bell ringing across a canyon.
The blue light vanished. The chain lay in the dust, ordinary and cold once more.
Andrew collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his arms trembling uncontrollably. Fox caught him, steadying him.
Number Five looked down at the boy, and for the first time, the golden eyes softened. He reached out a hand—a palm the size of a spade—and clapped Andrew on the shoulder.
"You have the strength of a Pillar," Five said. He stepped aside, pulling his staff from the earth. "The Bridge is yours. But remember: the further you go, the heavier your soul becomes. Do not let the void convince you that you are light enough to fly away."
Nathan and Michael helped Andrew to his feet. Andrew looked at his hands; they were raw and red, but they were steady.
"Nice work, Brooks," Fox whispered.
Andrew offered a weak, tired smirk. "Remind me... to never... lift anything again."
The four boys turned toward the Bridge of Light. Behind them lay the road, the people, and the marble city. Ahead lay the shimmering distortion of the In-Between, where the City of Dreams waited in the silence.
They stepped onto the light together. The world of Dane County vanished behind them, replaced by a vast, terrifying beauty.
"Strength is not just the ability to lift," Number Five boomed, his voice rattling the loose gravel at their feet. "In the In-Between, strength is the ability to hold on when the universe tries to shake you loose. You, the one with the broad shoulders. Step forward."
Andrew’s heart hammered against his ribs. He looked at Fox, who gave a small, grim nod. Andrew stepped into the giant’s shadow, feeling the heat radiating off Number Five’s bronze skin.
"I'm Andrew," he said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. "What do you want?"
"The Bridge of Light is not a path for the weak," Five said. He reached out and unhooked one of the massive iron chains from his harness. It was thick, each link the size of a dinner plate, and it pulsed with a faint, cold blue light. He dropped it into the dust between them. "Pick it up. Carry it to the threshold. If you drop it, you stay on this side of the line forever."
Andrew looked at the chain. It didn't look impossible, but as he reached down and gripped the cold iron, the world tilted. The chain didn't just weigh fifty pounds—it felt like it weighed a thousand. It wasn't just metal; it was heavy with the gravity of the county itself.
"Ugh!" Andrew grunted, his muscles bulging. His face turned a deep crimson.
"It’s not just weight, Andrew!" Michael King shouted, leaning forward. "It’s a conceptual load! Don't just lift it—will it to move!"
Number Five watched with an expressionless face. "The chain is the weight of your doubts, Andrew Brooks. It is the memory of every person you couldn't save. It is the fear of never seeing Taylorville again. Lift your burdens, or be crushed by them."
Andrew’s boots sank an inch into the road. His hamstrings felt like they were about to snap. For a second, he saw the faces of the stone villagers; he felt the cold breath of the King Führer. The weight was unbearable.
No, Andrew thought, his teeth grinding together so hard he tasted copper. I’m not a statue. I’m not a patient. I’m Andrew Brooks, and I’m going home.
With a guttural roar that echoed off the white marble cliffs of Harthpool, Andrew surged upward. The muscles in his back coiled like snakes. The blue light in the chain flared, resisting him, but he forced his knees to lock. He stood upright, the massive iron links draped over his shoulders.
"Move," Five commanded.
Every step was a battle. Andrew’s vision blurred with sweat. He felt the other boys flanking him, their presence the only thing keeping him from collapsing. Nathan reached out to help, but Number Five raised a warning finger. This was Andrew’s bridge to build.
Ten feet. Twenty. The air around the chain began to hum with the "In-Between" frequency.
With one final, staggering lunge, Andrew reached the edge where the dirt road met the white light of the bridge. He slammed the chain down. The impact didn't make a thud; it made a sound like a bell ringing across a canyon.
The blue light vanished. The chain lay in the dust, ordinary and cold once more.
Andrew collapsed to his knees, gasping for air, his arms trembling uncontrollably. Fox caught him, steadying him.
Number Five looked down at the boy, and for the first time, the golden eyes softened. He reached out a hand—a palm the size of a spade—and clapped Andrew on the shoulder.
"You have the strength of a Pillar," Five said. He stepped aside, pulling his staff from the earth. "The Bridge is yours. But remember: the further you go, the heavier your soul becomes. Do not let the void convince you that you are light enough to fly away."
Nathan and Michael helped Andrew to his feet. Andrew looked at his hands; they were raw and red, but they were steady.
"Nice work, Brooks," Fox whispered.
Andrew offered a weak, tired smirk. "Remind me... to never... lift anything again."
The four boys turned toward the Bridge of Light. Behind them lay the road, the people, and the marble city. Ahead lay the shimmering distortion of the In-Between, where the City of Dreams waited in the silence.
They stepped onto the light together. The world of Dane County vanished behind them, replaced by a vast, terrifying beauty.