Wonder with me at a point of progress on my path. Echo my exhaling through a bout of anxious breaths. Sit in the sensation of the tension in the air, furthered by the frustration of all the viewers there.

There I stood staring down a seven-meter drop. I recall a rush of regret upon looking down. I resisted further reckon of the fall below, turning my attention to the narrow way ahead. The balance beam measured only half a meter wide and stretched across an oval basin many times as long. Delicate reliefs of Bohdric lore adorned the path. My attention lingered on a symbol of a star.

Brother Beck took the stage to start the challenge off. “Sorry folks,” he chortled. “Little change o’ plans. We got Persi Pendrak takin’ on the balance beam. Let’s all pray the brace o’ Bohd’ll keep ‘er up a while.”

I tensed at his teasing and the laughter it inspired in a smattering of spectators scattered in the stands. Classmates clear of further challenge mocked me callously, thriving in the comfort of their kindred unlike me.

Ms. Bergr was less amused, aiming ire at Brother Beck as she rose in warning from her seat near Sister Wyx. I could tell the Brother felt her fury by his cough. “Blessed beaming, Pendrak,” he quickly concluded.

Pressure mounted as the Brother scurried from the stage. My heart hammered while the watchers waited for my start. Other Brothers near the basin belted out a prayer. At the end of their appeal, I advanced a step.

By the bearing of the Bord, I faltered at first, quivering on contact with the sigil-laden beam. I could feel the challenge chiseled into its inscriptions. I could feel the heat of sickness swelling in my gut. But I bore it for a step and managed several more, crossing capably enough a quarter of the wood. Breathy whispers reached me from an audience in awe. Their wonder abated with the wobble of my legs.

I endured disruption by the sense unique to me. Bohdric blessing bore me terrors no one else could see. I perceived the shifting of the sigils in the wood: scenes of saints in supplication screaming as they should.

I struggled for balance as I suffered the illusion of increasing counts of captive criers throating slimy stars. I recalled the feeling of the foul effects that followed: I had known it time and time again during my dream.

I forced myself forward despite the distraction, effortfully overlooking scenes of savagery. I defied the dreadful sense of faithful flowing over. I ignored them ably ‘til I noticed one I knew.

There was Salvador at last, bound up in the beam. I collapsed upon the path in weariness and woe. I beheld the horror of the fortune he had fled: held in place by tens of tendrils spilling from his head.

I forgot my forward course in clinging to the wood, desperately defying the design of gravity. Morbid murmurs failed to reach me in my manic mood. Anglic anger drowned the din of doubting from the crowd.

“What is this?” growled the voice of OhmN under me, rising from its stolen seat inside of Salvador. It emerged partway from him to brandish all six eyes. “Do you dare to further your defiance of the Bord?”

I could feel its slimy limbs churning in my chest. “What have you to gain by such fixation on offense? Are you so intent to test the brace of Blessed Bohd? Better you should give in here and spare yourself the sin.”

I grew dizzy in the din of haunting none could hear. OhmN’s terrifying tenor tempted me to drop. “Fall,” it ordered. “Submit and succeed.” I came close to caving ‘til an urgent cry broke through.

“PERSEPHONE!”

There again I heard a shout I swore I’d heard before, sounding so much like the name I never used back then. The disruption delivered a shock that drew my gaze. Looking up, I saw Rachel glaring back at me.

Though she played at coyness then, I could see in her blue eyes a challenge desperate for the answer my advance might be. I glimpsed it amid her glancing to and from my face: pressure she imposed on me most every time we’d race.

Maybe it was just the press I needed at the time. I remember reeling at my rival’s gripping roar. I credit her callout with the triggering of truth; insight seeded in my psyche sprouted at her shout.

The brief break in struggle beat the trouble in my chest, cluing me into the nature of OhmN’s offense. I recalled the dimble’s promise pending my resolve, only then comprehending what its claim had meant. I recalled as well the resonance of Rachel’s words, knowing as I did that only dropping spelled defeat. Still upon the balance beam and well within a win, I dug deep and steeled myself to soldier on in sin.

I abandoned pride and continued at a crawl, scooting forward slowly to surpass the halfway point. I ignored the shrieking of the angles under me, holding firm in focus on my path to victory. I advanced another quarter at that sluggish pace, feeling all aflutter as the other side drew near. OhmN tried a final trick to stop my striving there. I perceived the pressure of its presence in the air.

It appeared before me in a violent burst of noise. “YOU WILL STOP,” it blared with every voice. I could feel the tremor of its terror in my bones, but its frantic flexing proved that I was not alone.

Salvador’s appearance on the beam had been a ruse: an illusion broken by my forward focusing. Feeling then the fervor of my friend inside my heart, I felt certain he was with me as I rose again. I swallowed a surge of sick and struggled to my feet, rising up in wrath directed at my anglic foe. I wrapped my half-beaded bracelet in a gentle grip. Lifting angry auburn eyes, I demanded, “Move.”

And the force that OhmN could not name heeded me, thrusting it away from me and down into the drink. I denied it further focus as it fell below. I advanced into a thrill I thought I’d never know.

I succeeded to the sound of rapturous applause, offered by an audience whose doubting I’d defied. Several students rushed to meet me in my victory. All but Rachel stopped short as my stomach spilled at last.

Rachel ran toward me with her snooty smirk equipped, shadowed by a striking redhead in a patchwork blouse. “I’ll be dim!” she exclaimed. “You actually crossed! Not nearly as fast as I would have, but still.”

I wiped fluid from my lips and raised my gaze to her. “You never tried to cross?” I inquired then.

“No,” she sighed. “There was only time for one of us.”

I sprouted a wolfish grin. “So I won for real.”

Rachel reddened. “Nuh uh! I gave you my slot!”

I engaged my rival in familiar rapport, brightened by the sweetness of the secret at my side. Salvador appeared anew amid our argument. He and I exchanged subtle smiles as I stood.

Thus concludes my capture of this trial by the strange. We mark my last leg of learning in primary range. St. Circe would suffer me through several higher grades, but we’ll wisely wait to wander then another day.