Every strike he'd swung played back in his head. How overly confident he'd been. How stupid he felt for thinking this would be easy. That beast had nearly taken his head. Twice. Of course, he had prevailed, but he wondered how it had made him look in the eyes of the rest of the Blackhands. Probably as a child, one they would seek to mock from now on and remind him of his slights.
Thoughts consuming him, Dorian screamed beneath the surface until he no longer felt his throat.
Fire bellowed and bubbled the entire pool. Smoke rose. He pulled at his hair, and only when he thought he would pass out did he rise above it again.
"When I said to use the bath, I hadn't meant for you to set it aflame," came Hagen's voice.
Dorian hardly moved, his head sank back against the edge of the marble, and he glanced to Hagen crossing the room.
"Come to gloat?" Dorian asked.
"Came to see a friend," Hagen countered. He started rolling up his pant legs then and gave an upwards nod. "You mind dwindling that a bit? My feet could use a soak in hot water that I haven't had to work for."
The fire doused with a hiss, leaving only the smoke settled on top. Hagen sat at the edge and sank his calves beneath the water.
"Oi, that's nice," Hagen uttered in a grunt. "Maybe I'll keep you as a servant to heat my waters through the winter instead of putting you through the remainder of the trials," he winked.
The huff of amusement that Dorian tried to let out choked in his chest, and he coughed so harshly, he almost fell off his seat. Hagen's brows were raised upon his straightening, and Dorian settled with a heavy breath.
"You look like death, mate," Hagen mocked him. "But you fought like a King today."
Dorian scoffed. "I fought like an overly confident child," he muttered. "Certain he would be invincible no matter what was thrown at him."
"You say that as though nearly failing was a bad thing."
"Considering I almost died, I think the statement stands true."
"Failure teaches you more about yourself than success ever will," Hagen said.
Dorian looked down at the red swellings on his chest and the scratch on his arm, and he shook his head. "Tell that to my insides."
Hagen laughed softly and clapped Dorian's shoulder for a shake, to which Dorian grunted at the pain. He knew Hagen was doing it on purpose--a gruff show of affection that Dorian actually appreciated despite the agony of it.
"How old do you think that creature was?"
"Decade, perhaps?"
"And you noted the scars and burns?"
Dorian nodded, unsure of where the conversation was going.
"That creature has lived beneath our mountain since Haerland walked these hills," Hagen said. "Our giver, Mons Magnus, trapped it in our caves back then, saying it would be his executioner. The only creature capable of determining worth and innocence by Mons's standards. He was the only being to ever go up against it and survive. Until you."
Dorian stilled in the revelation. "Can't imagine Mons is happy about my killing his executioner.”
"I imagine you were too exhausted from blood loss to truly see what happened in those stands when you emerged from beneath the beast."
"You would be right," Dorian mumbled. "Why? What happened?"
"I don't think I'll tell you." And the crooked smile on Hagen’s face made Dorian fall back beneath the water. He stayed for a moment, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes and letting the water wrap his lungs.
"How are you feeling?" Hagen asked once Dorian broke the surface again.
"Like someone has ripped my insides out," Dorian admitted. "If this was Mons's trial, should I think your Architect's trial will be next?"
Hagen nodded.
"And last?"
