Chapter 14: Chapter 14 Trial of the Mind
"YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO THE POWER YOU HAVE STOLEN FROM MY PEOPLE."
I try to swallow, but find that my throat is too dry as I'm trying to find ways to get myself out of this, at the very least alive and hopefully with the enhancements of the Herb.
For the briefest of milliseconds, the idea of lying flashes through my brain, but the exact moment it does, Bast billows forwards in a great tsunami of smoke faster than the eye can see, and I fall to my knees, unable to draw breath or even remaining standing upright due to the feeling of thousands of tonnes of weight suddenly pressing down on every inch of my body.
I can tell that she isn't even doing anything: this is solely the effect of what I'm beginning to think is my soul being that close to the presence of a god.
So, honesty is probably the best policy here.
"No Bast, I do not." I wheeze out with the last molecules of air that had been present in my compressed lungs, the weight of her aura keeping me from taking a new breath (which a small, disconnected part of me notes is odd, considering this is my soul and thus shouldn't even need to breathe, but it's probably my mind translating whatever metaphysical force her presence is applying to my metaphysical manifestation of self. Or something).
Bast remains perfectly still for a few moments, the two glowing suns of light that represent her eyes glaring balefully down upon my hunched body from stories above me, no pity to be found. Slowly, she retreats from me, allowing her presence to lift enough for me to heave in great gulps of air, but not enough that the weight disappears completely, remaining an ever-present reminder of how precarious my position is.
"YOU SHALL NEVER BE MY CHAMPION."
"W-what… does that… mean?" I manage to gasp out, slowly steadying my breathing, though I remain bent before the Panther Goddess, trying my best not to offend her further.
"IT MEANS, PLANEWALKER, THAT THE POWER OF THE BLACK PANTHER WILL NOT BE YOURS TO CLAIM. I WILL SLAY YOU WHERE YOU STAND FOR YOUR CRIMES AGAINST WAKANDA."
Indignation threatens to well up inside me, but a gentle flex of the bands still pressing down around my chest and on my shoulder quickly disabuses me of that notion. Still, I can't let this go without some semblance of protest.
"I ate the plant! Its powers belong to me now! Why do you get a say in who is allowed to use its power and who is not?!"
"BECAUSE I AM A GODESS, TIED TO THE VERY LAND THAT GIVES THE HERB ITS POWERS. AND NOW, IT'S TIME FOR YOUR STORY TO COME TO A CLOSE."
With that, Bast rears up, a great billowing skyscraper of smoke and shadows, her purple eyes rising infinitely high, a paw as large as a suburban house raised in preparation to smite me into oblivion.
"WAIT!"
It's only after a few tense seconds (during which Bast has yet to kill me) that I hesitantly open one eye, realizing that I had been the one to yell. Quickly continuing in a waterfall of words before I can lose my nerve (or life), I try to beg the Panther Goddess.
"I can do better! I can prove myself worthy of its power! Please don't kill me!"
High up in the darkness above me, Bast tilts her head.
"YOU THINK YOU CAN PROVE YOURSELF TO BE WORTHY OF THE SAME POWERS GIFTED TO MY CHAMPIONS? AFTER ALL THAT YOU HAVE INFLICTED UPON MY CHOSEN PEOPLE? WHY SHOULD I EVEN ENTERTAIN THE THOUGHT?"
"Because…" I start off in a yell, only trail off in a whisper, as I come to a realization.
Bast was right. What reasons had I given her for her to accept my desperate plea?
Precisely zero.
Looking up at the enormous goddess that is about to erase me from existence, there's only one thing that I can think of to say.
"Because I don't want to die."
The reveal of the motivation that had dominated my new life from the moment I was reborn is enough to stay Bast's smiting hand for just a little longer, so I continue talking in a soft tone of voice.
"Ever since I woke up in this universe, that's what I've been most afraid of. And so I tried to do absolutely everything that I could in order to fight that. I've lied, I've stolen, I've killed in order to keep myself as safe from dying as I could possibly be."
I give a weak chuckle.
"And now trying to advance that goal I get killed because of it. But you know what? I'm not done yet. I don't want to die, and I'm sure as hell not just gonna keep quiet and drop dead because you want me to! Go ahead, punish me for my sins, or test my worthiness for the Herb's power and see for yourself that I earned gaining its might! But if you decide to kill me anyways, then you better make goddamned sure you get it right, because I swear I'm gonna claw my way out of the depths of whatever Hell you'll send me to, stronger than before, and then I'll come back here and kick your ass!"
What I'm doing is dumb. I know that it's dumb. Suicidal, even. Who goes and yells at the goddess who was already pissed off at him to begin with? I think quite a few people honestly, when faced with imminent destruction.
There are those who would either bow their heads and take it, or wail, or pray, or remain stoically silent, or they would start raging against the heavens in their final moments.
Apparently, I belonged to that latter category.
For a moment time was stretched out into what felt like eternity, Bast's pools of purple power staring into my own eyes, nothing showing what the goddess was thinking about the tantrum I had just delivered.
Then she lowered her paw, settling on her haunches, a smoky tail the size of a freight train wrapping imperiously around her.
"YOU CHALLENGE ME… TO CHALLENGE YOU?"
It's the first and probably only time that I hear a goddess that sounds confused of all things, before I shrug off the thought and square my shoulders and lift my chin.
"You want justice for what I did in Wakanda, I want the power of the Heart-Shaped Herb. So here's what I suggest: a test. If I complete the test, you'll let me go with the power of the Heart-Shaped Herb, but if I fail it then I'll accept whatever punishment you see fit, even death."
Bast hummed in thought, the twin suns that were her eyes slowly burning in contemplation.
"I FAIL TO SEE HOW THIS WOULD BENEFIT ME PLANEWALKER. SINCE THERE IS NOTHING STOPPING ME FROM METING OUT PUNISHMENT AS I SEE FIT RIGHT NOW."
And with those words, the Panther Goddess flexes the tiniest amount of her immense power, and suddenly I'm on my knees again, the air forcibly pushed from my lungs as it feels like a hydraulic press is currently clamping down on my torso.
Right, just because she's holding off on vaporizing me on the spot doesn't mean she suddenly isn't completely pissed off anymore.
"P-point taken." I wheeze out, after which the vice-like grip on my lungs is abruptly removed, leaving me to gracelessly flop to the floor in a gasping heap.
I clearly need to up my offer.
"Those that are granted the power of the Heart-Shaped Herb are to become your champion, correct? If I complete your trials, then I shall have proven that I have what it takes to be one as well. So, after you let me go, you may give me one order to complete and I shall try to fulfil it to the best of my abilities."
The lights in Bast's eyes briefly increase in brightness, before dimming down to their usual inferno of violet power, but I know what it means: despite her rage, I've peaked her interest.
"ONE ORDER, AND I SHALL GUIDE AND STAY YOUR HAND AS I SEE FIT AS YOU ATTEMPT TO COMPLETE IT."
"Three orders, but you don't interfere."
A deep rumbling sound rattles not just the floor I'm standing on (almost sending me crashing to the ground again), it shakes the very air around us, this entire dimension reflecting Bast's annoyance.
"DO NOT FORGET, PLANEWALKER. YOU ARE IN NO POSITION TO MAKE DEMANDS HERE. I AM NOT ONE TO BE BARGAINED WITH AS IF I WERE SOME COMMON MARKET WENCH PADDLING HER WARES. I HAVE DECIDED, AND YOU HAVE ONLY TO FOLLOW."
Bast doesn't shout: she doesn't need to as her point is made just fine at her normal volume. I quickly decide to follow her advice and refrain from weaselling my way through deals and clauses in order to advance my chances.
Instead, I'll just have to be content with not being turned into cosmic space-dust on the spot.
"I bow to your wisdom, oh Great Bast." I say demurely, bowing at the waist for good measure, trying to appease the angered god in front of me.
"THERE SHALL BE TWO TRIALS: ONE OF THE MIND AND ONE OF THE BODY. SUCCEED IN BOTH, AND I SHALL ALLOW YOU TO LEAVE THIS PLACE. FAIL, AND YOU WILL DIE A DEATH SO TERRIBLE, THE STARS THEMSELVES WILL SPEAK IN TERRIFIED WHISPERS OF YOUR DEMISE."
Swallowing down my primal urge to gibber in fear at the implied threat, I hesitantly straighten from by bow, though I try to maintain my submissive posture as I softly ask my question.
"When does my trial start?"
"RIGHT NOW. YOUR GUIDE HAS ALREADY ARRIVED."
I raise my eyebrows in surprise at that.
"Guide? Who's my guide?"
"Me."
Turning around in a shocked whirl at the hauntingly familiar voice behind me, I can feel the blood drain from my face as I lay eyes on my guide for the first time.
"You…" I softly whisper, completely floored.
Gazing at me with an imperious tilt to her regal head, Ramonda, former Queen Mother of Wakanda, the woman I had killed in front of her own daughter, stands before me, not a blemish on her skin.
"How…"
"Bast guides the souls of the Wakandans that have passed on to the Green Veld, where they are free forever. I asked to wait before entering the blessed Djalia, since I had unfinished business that needed to be concluded first."
The look she sends me makes it clear just what (or rather, who) she means with 'unfinished business'.
"LET THE FIRST TRIAL COMMENCE."
And with those words, reality itself stretches and heaves, and with a spinning blur of colours and motion, while remaining perfectly still, the dark savannah we had been standing in had suddenly been replaced with a burnt out pier, the Panther Goddess herself nowhere to be seen, Ramonda standing next to me.
Briefly the disorientation gets to me, making me lose my footing (while the Queen's clothes aren't even ruffled) but the scenery quickly grabs my attention, since I recognize this charred husk, despite the vague, shadowy look everything has, showing that we are still in the Astral Realm, only viewing a different time and place.
It's where I ambushed Killian.
"What is this? What are you trying to show me?" I ask suspiciously, glancing back over my shoulder at Ramonda, who merely inclines her head towards the side.
Following her gaze, I only now spot the emergency workers that are bustling around on the pier, all of them covered in soot, with exhausted expressions on their faces.
Most of them are currently busy with placing body bags on stretchers.
"Would you look at this one? Both her spine and face are gone Jacob. Gone. What kind of monster does that kinda thing?"
Turning around I watch as two guys in medical overalls are busy extracting the remains of the berserker woman from the twisted base of the fallen crane I had smashed her into.
"I don't know Jerry." The man answered, his tone wearied, his posture tired.
"You know how we found her: whatever kind of monster did this to her, I'm betting she ain't exactly an angel herself neither. Just be glad those freaks are killing off each other on piers rather than in neighbourhoods. Less chance of you dyin' that way."
With a grunt and a heave, the corpse is finally freed from the destroyed metal and placed in a body bag nearby. As the elder Jacob starts zipping up the bag, Jerry straightens up, stretching his back as he looks down on his partner.
"That's harsh man. Real harsh."
Jacob only pauses in his work in order to give Jerry a raised eyebrow, before he frowns, motioning his partner to help him lift the bag.
"Right, I forgot. You weren't there for the clean-up in Harlem."
With a heave, the bagged woman is placed on a stretcher, and as they make their way towards the ambulances on the other end of the pier, Jerry looks over his shoulder at the elder man.
"Why? That bad?"
"You ain't even know the half of it kid. Two freaks, tearing up the streets in the meanest slugfest of the century. Two days later, and we're still finding body parts in the rubble and car wrecks. Sure, Army got its hands burned for the mess, but that's too little too late. I had to bandage more scrapes and cuts in those 48 eight hours than nearly 40 years on the job."
Jerry seems to take his partner's words into consideration, before Jacob gives his final two cents.
"Mark my words kid. World's changing, with freaks crawlin' up outta the woodwork everywhere, and the little guy is the one that gets hurt for it. Guys like us, ordinary folk? All we can do is sit tight, wait for hell to blow over and then pick up the pieces."
And with those words they turn a corner and are out of my sight.
"What an interesting word choice. Monster. Freak. How does that make you feel, I wonder, to know those are the words people think of when they look upon your works?"
I growl at the cool voice of the Queen of Wakanda, whirling around to face her.
"What the hell is this? Is this supposed to be some sort of guilt-trip or something? Killian was going to betray me and if left to his own devices would commit acts of terror on these people, and that woman nearly killed me! So if you're expecting me to feel sorry for them, then you can guess again, Your Highness. Only thing I feel is satisfaction at getting them, before they could get me."
Ramonda doesn't even bat an eyelash at my rant, simple crossing her arms, her emotion schooled into an impenetrable mask of calm.
"Yes, I had somewhat suspected you might feel this way. But what about the people in their lives? No person is truly alone in this world, Mr. McCole, not even those villains. What happens to those who remain behind, after you've torn their loved ones from their life? Let's find out."
"Wai-!"
Before I can finish my sentence, the kaleidoscope of dizzying colours is back again, and with a stumble we come to a stop in a rundown neighbourhood, graffiti covering the walls with windows boarded up and litter filling the street.
As I hear South-African being spoken, I think I know where we are. My suspicions are confirmed when the corrugated sheet that is serving as a door in one of the decrepit houses is thrown open, a child no more than twelve storming out, his clothes dirtied and his face gaunt.
Following him out is a wailing woman who I assume to be his mother.
"Please! My boy, don't do this! We can find another way, any way, just not this! Please Axel, don't go to that man!"
"And do what!?" the child rears around, screaming, though I can see the tear tracks on his face.
"Watch you and Nikki starve!? Dad's not gonna come back mom, and I ain't sitting around waiting to die too! I'm gonna join up with Declan's group, Ethan and Luke already joined so you can't stop me!"
And with that, the boy runs off, bare feet slapping against broken cobblestones, leaving his sobbing mother to fall against the doorframe of her hovel, sliding down to her knees in grief.
Behind her, a four year old girl, wearing a tattered, worn down sundress hesitantly approaches her mother, laying a tiny hand upon her arm.
"Mamma? Where's Askel goin'?"
With a cry of pain, the bereaved widower (and I know, deep down in my gut, who is responsible for that) throws her arms around her remaining child in a desperate hug, her body wracked with sobs.
At first I wonder why nobody is reacting at the drama unfolding before me, but it just takes one look at the downcast expressions, those haunted eyes, those too-thin bodies, and I have my answer.
This has become the norm for these people.
"Well, Mr. McCole. What has this woman done against you, that she deserves such a fate?" Ramonda asks as she steps up next to me, but I don't move, my expression sombre as I keep my eyes fixed on the crying mother and daughter in front of me.
It takes a while for me to answer, but when I do, I deliver it in measured, thoughtful tones.
"She doesn't. Nobody deserves this. But you're mistaken if you think this is my fault. Her husband was a criminal, assaulting and robbing people while armed with a submachine gun. There was never a way their tale wasn't going to end this way: they're a product of the world they live in."
The Queen tilts her head a bit at that, giving me a sidelong look.
"And yet, with all that power that you have hoarded for yourself in your hunger for yet more power, haven't you had the means to change that world? Preventing such a tragedy from happening in the first place?"
At that I turn towards her, my face drawn in rage.
"Don't you dare give me that crap! How long has Wakanda sat on its advanced technology? How many cures were withheld from the rest of the world? How many wars could have been prevented? How many lives, over thousands of years, could have been saved had Wakanda not decided to retreat into the shadows, hiding underneath the safety of their force-field, closing its eyes to the pain of the world?!"
The Queen rears back as if slapped, before her nostrils widen in fury, a fire exploding in her eyes (in the figural sense, not the literal Extremis-version), but as she opens her mouth she seems to think on my words, and slowly deflates, gazing at the now softly sniffling mother with a drawn expression on her face.
"Perhaps our ancestors were wrong to hide our nation; perhaps it takes far more than just a single person or even a country to change the world. It would take everyone working together towards a better tomorrow, in order to make sure that such a pain-filled world shall become a thing of the past. Wouldn't you agree?"
Both of us remain silent as the mother, now with no more tears to shed, shakily stands up, lifting her sleeping daughter in her arms, shuffling back inside the small home.
"Perhaps. The world isn't so easily healed, not even with the legendary powers of Vibranium." I concede.
"But there is one thing where you are wrong, Mr. McCole. You assume you bear no guilt to this woman's hurt, because that is simply the world she lives in. But what about those who do not live in such a world, who believe that such pain is not something that they should ever had to live with?"
Before I can ask what she means, the scenery blurs by once again, but this time I managed to resist the breakneck speeds a bit better, and other than missing a step when we arrive, I've come out reasonably unruffled.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone