Vol. I Chapter IV: The Second Trial

Barefoot, he raced through wet grass, thorns, over tangled roots. 

What is this feeling? He didn’t know. All he could think of was one thing.

Her.

But who was she?

He ran until it felt as if the forest would never end. And as he ran, the world around him grew stranger. The plants wilder. The flowers bigger and more brightly colored.

Until finally, he stumbled into a wide clearing, in the center of which stood a massive oak tree. With every step toward the tree, some of his memories came flooding back:

A circle of candles. A flash of light. Her body, warm and furred. Her laughter.

He hurried onward. Each step drove the images deeper into his mind:

The lake, silver under moonlight. Water cascading over her shoulders. Her whisper at his ear. The Thiasos. Dionysus. The spellbook he’d found. And finally, a name.

“Melissa…” At first he whispered it, as though afraid to speak it aloud.

But then he shouted it, pouring all his pain, his longing, and his desperate hope into that single cry:

“MELISSA!”

His voice echoed through the trees, tearing apart the silence. For an instant, he thought he heard her laughter. But it was only the wind. Only the rustling of dark green leaves overhead.

The great oak stood silent and ancient. Its trunk gnarled and silvered with age. He reached out, his fingers brushing the ancient bark. As he touched it, the air seemed to collapse inward. The world vibrated.

Then, a faint crackling sound behind him.

He spun around.

At the edge of the clearing stood Melissa.

No grand entrance, she was simply there. And she looked exactly as he remembered her. The wind played with a strand of her tousled hair. Her amber eyes were shadowed, but he could see that she was staring right at him. Her breath came quickly. Her cheeks were flushed. Lucius nearly stumbled towards her.

“You’re here…”

He reached for her, as if he needed to convince himself she wouldn’t vanish into the mist again. His trembling fingers brushed her cheek, traced the line of her neck.

Melissa let him. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against his.

“I’d forgotten you…” He confessed, guilt and pain etched across his face.

“Idiot. You weren’t supposed to remember,” she whispered.

Then he kissed her, hard and desperate, like a man clutching at a dream before daylight banishes it. And Melissa, she hesitated for barely a heartbeat. Her fingers curled into his shirt. No dance. No playful games. Just a single, painful moment of truth.

“Idiot…” she murmured against his lips. “This was only the first trial.”

“I know,” he said softly. “And I know that you’re real. And that I’ll never lose you again.”

She gazed at him as if feeling everything at once. Desire, pain, hope, fear. Her pupils widened.

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it forever,” she whispered.

“Because next time… I might lose you for good.”

He tried to embrace her, to hold her tight, but she gently pushed him back. Her hand rested on his chest, warm and trembling.

“Dionysus is calling. It’s not over yet.” And mist curled around her body.

“Melissa, wait!” Lucius cried out, terrified of losing her again. But she vanished. Left behind was only the scent of wild wine and warm fur.

The world softened and suddenly he wasn’t in the forest anymore.

He was back in the middle of the Thiasos, on the great festival grounds, surrounded by revelers and the scent of wine. And there before him was Dionysus, laughing and drinking, raising his goblet high.

“Ah! The mortal returns!” The god cleared his throat, then shouted in a voice that echoed like thunder: “The first trial is complete!”

And the surrounding crowd exploded in cheers. Satyrs blew their trumpets, drums thundered in rhythm. Dionysus stepped closer, wearing a seriousness Lucius had rarely seen.

“No heroics. No blood. Just you, and that fleeting sense that something is missing. Until it’s gone entirely.” The god gave a thin smile.

“It was like that for me, too…” Lucius answered quietly, sorrow in his voice.

“But not completely,” Dionysus said, his tone suddenly gentle. “You didn’t forget her. Not entirely.” A brief silence fell, then Dionysus continued, his voice rising again, strong and thunderous:

“The second trial awaits. This time, it will send you back to your world, not to forget, but to act.” Then he added, in a voice soft but tinged with menace: “…But if you fail, the forgetting you already tasted will become permanent. That, I promise you!”

The god let out a booming laugh, and the scene began to tilt. The surroundings dissolved, colors bleeding away as the world fell apart again.

He blinked and found himself back in his house.

No dream this time. No missing memories. He stood in his kitchen and everything was as it should be.

Then someone knocked.

Lucius opened the door, but no one was there. Only an envelope on the threshold. Heavy, wine-red paper, sealed with a golden grape cluster. No sender. No name. He broke the seal. Inside was an invitation:

“In the name of the Many-Named, the Roaring One, the Cunning Fox, the Breaker of Sorrows and Crusher of Men: You are summoned to the second trial, the Masquerade of the Maenads.

Recognize, among all the faces, the one who has never offered you a false smile. Find the one to whom your heart belongs, without using your eyes to seek her. For only if you love the true self, will you see it, even behind veils.“

Beneath was a location and a time: Midnight.

Lucius folded the paper and exhaled slowly.

So… this is the second trial.

When midnight came, Lucius made his way to the designated location.

It wasn’t far, but it lay well off any normal roads. A narrow country path led him between towering walls of wheat, and there on a hill, stood an ancient looking palace, that normally wasn’t there.

From within the palace poured music. A mingling of flutes, drums, and voices. Above the palace, the sky glowed a deep violet, and massive braziers cast flickering light across the marble walls.

Lucius stepped closer. The music grew louder with each step. His first step inside felt like crossing into another dream. The hall was enormous, both in size and atmosphere. Dim light from oil lamps flickered over damp, colorful mosaic floors. Everywhere stood amphorae brimming with wine, ready for the guests. And the guests were already there in full splendor:

Laughing Maenads, half-human, half-beast, with chestnut fur, curling horns, and long, swishing tails, looking just like Melissa. Some swayed in slow, hypnotic dances. Others lounged across huge silk cushions and devoured food and drink with ravenous delight. They wore golden masks shaped like the faces of animals. And soon, one of them noticed him.

“Lucius…”

A Satyr Maenad wearing a lion mask drifted toward him, her tail flicking, her chest glistening with scented oils.

“Ah, there you are at last! Come dance, drink, and join me as we did by the lake!” She tapped his chest lightly with one finger. But Lucius didn’t even need to see her face.

“You’re not Melissa,” he said softly.

Her voice was too sweet, too gentle. Close, but not quite right. She recoiled slightly.

“Pah, fine then,” she muttered, pouting, and disappeared back into the throng.

Lucius moved deeper into the reveling crowd, and more of them turned their attention toward him. It wasn’t long before another Melissa appeared.

“Hey, little wizard! Still drawing your summoning circles all crooked?” She gave him a mischievous wink and poked him in the chest with her horns.

Her voice was rough and melodic, exactly like Melissa’s. But it wasn’t her scent. He shook his head firmly and pushed her gently aside.

And so it continued for a while. As he moved through the grand halls, new contenders kept appearing.

One had Melissa’s voice. Another her walk. Another tried silence, simply staring at him. She was different from the rest.

“Melissa?” Lucius asked cautiously, almost suspicious. She crossed her arms.

“Finally! Took you long enough, you sweet little idiot.” She laughed, and her tail gave a small twitch. She had Melissa’s voice, her posture, but she kept her distance. No horns pressing against his chest. No playful tail winding around his leg. And Lucius knew, it wasn’t her. He turned away once more.

Then a voice boomed, rich and thunderous:

“Well? Are you still searching?” Dionysus sat on the edge of the dance circle’s steps, a stormy grin on his face.

“You have until sunrise, mortal. And dawn is not far off. After that, you must choose, or you will lose everything. And this time… there will be no going back.”

Lucius nodded silently.

With a heavy heart, he continued searching. But he couldn’t find her anywhere.

The festival had shifted around him. The music grew sharper, more shrill. Voices buzzed around and he knew he was running out of time. Everything was too loud. Too hot.

He pulled away from the masquerade’s center, stepped toward one of the high arched windows, and stared outside, trying to think of how he could possibly find the real Melissa.

Outside, dawn already tinged the horizon with its first glow.

And slowly… he felt hope fading.