John stepped into the bog, feeling the slimy mud ooze between his toes. The only sound was the squelch of his footsteps as he looked around. Dead trees jutted out of the murky water, their branches bare and lifeless. He clutched his torch tightly, trying to ignore the sense of foreboding that crept up his spine.

The moss growing on the trees was the only source of light in the trial besides his torch. Their light was only bright enough to give a dim green hue to trees, letting John know of their presence.  

The bog was a maze of shallow waters and slimy vegetation, with no clear path forward. He realized that his armor was not going to be much help here, as the bog was too wet and humid for him to regulate his body temperature. He would have to rely on his wits and his spells to make it through.

As John began to navigate through the bog, he noticed that the ground beneath his feet was treacherous. He had to watch every step, or risk sinking knee-deep into the muck. At one point, he stepped onto what appeared to be solid ground, only to have it give way beneath him. He stumbled and fell into the murky water, barely managing to avoid getting his torch wet.

He stood up groaning, wet from head to toe, his patched clothes dripping the smelly bog water. He could do nothing in the instance other than to take the bitter gulp and continue walking.

He didn’t let his mind wander to the boots he had missed on the altar. They would have been very helpful in traversing through the bog, but to think about them would mean doubting his decision. He needed to have faith in his decision because this trial was going to be tough.

Unfortunately, the terrain wasn’t going to make it easy for John. John's second faltering came when he encountered a thick patch of reeds. As he tried to push through them, he suddenly found himself stuck fast, as if the reeds had grown around him. He struggled to break free, but the more he struggled, the more entangled he became. He realized that he would need a spell to break the reeds apart, and he didn't have one. He somehow or another tore through them and escaped.

Free of the reeds, he didn’t dare move straight and took a detour, taking him around an area where the water seemed to be bubbling. Thankfully nothing happened there and he managed to travel through.

Finally, as John approached the heart of the bog, he felt a sense of foreboding. The water grew murky and still, and the air grew thick with the stench of decay. He knew that something was waiting for him, something dangerous. As he trudged through the bog, he could feel eyes on him, watching his every move. he saw nothing out of the ordinary. There was nothing there but dead trees. Suddenly, he felt something brush against his leg. He whirled around, but there was nothing there. He felt a chill run down his spine, realizing that he was facing a stealthy foe.

John stood his place and squinted his eyes to see in the darkness. He could hear something moving in the water, but the sound seemed to be coming from everywhere. He stretched his arm to see if he could see brighten his surroundings. Then he heard something a loud snap, like arthritis-ridden knees moving for the first time in a long while. He turned in the direction of the sound, but he didn’t see anything. Instead, the sound returned, another snap, louder than before and from the opposite direction.

Finally, he saw something. Not the monster, but green luminescent tentacles creeping toward him. No! They weren’t tentacles at all!

“Roots!”

They sped up. One of them snaked around John’s ankle, tripping him up, and before he knew it, he was face down in the muck. He struggled to get up, but the roots held him tight, choking him. He reached for his torch to use it as a weapon, but another one of them grabbed his torch and tried to pull it out of his hand. He held tight, but the roots were relentless.  

One wrapped around his neck, squeezing the life out of him. In his panic, John lost his grip on the torch, and it went flying out of his hand, disappearing into the darkness.

He didn’t waste time trying to break the roots with his hands. He had grown stronger, but he wasn’t strong enough o tear tree roots with his bare hands. He hurriedly called forth his Grimoire and chanted the homing missile spell. The Grimoire floating above him glowed in a bright light and an equally bright bolt sped out of it. It fell upon the root wrapped around his neck and blasted it into two pieces. The broken root flailed in the water like a snake with its head cut off.

The other roots also seemed to flinch and weaken, giving John the time to get out of their grasp and push away from them. He didn’t just get away but called forth a volley of homing missiles upon them. He didn’t stick around to see which of the missiles hit their target and which didn’t, turned around, and ran for his life.

 He didn’t know where he was going. He didn’t know which of the trees was the monster or if they all were monsters. He only knew he needed to get out of the water and find solid ground, of which there was none. So he could only do the next best thing. He reached out for the tallest tree he could find in the darkness and climbed on top of it.

John knew he had to find the exit quickly or risk being swallowed up by the bog forever.

The roots followed him. He climbed the tree and they were right on his ties. John let the Grimoire keep the pressure on them by firing homing missiles in quick barrages, but the Grimoire was on and the roots were many. At least he wasn’t blind to the direction of attack and he had already taken away their biggest advantage by getting out of the water and getting atop the tree. They were only so many of them that were large enough to reach him up there. And none of them were strong individually to put his life in danger. Still, he had to play hide-n-seek with the malicious roots on top of the tree before his homing missiles managed to get rid of all of them.

The broken roots tried to break his tree for a while but they eventually gave up and disappeared underwater. John thought he might be able to see which tree they belonged to by following the trail of the green hue they would leave behind, but the roots were also cunning enough to bury underground to cover their trace.  

The fight came to a standstill. John waited atop the dead tree for the monster to make a move and in the way reveal its position. He was met with disappointment when half an hour or so passed and nothing happened. The monster hadn’t disappeared, it was simply waiting for John to act. It was a tree. It could wait, but John couldn’t. Perhaps, for a day or more, but where would he have the strength to fight it then?

“You are taking your role a bit too seriously, aren’t you?” John let out a sigh.

He looked at the two artifacts he held in his hands. The palm-sized hawk statue was cold to touch, its shape detailed to his touch. The empty potion bottle on the other hand was just that. No one in their right mind would think it was the most important artifact he possessed. It had literally been the difference between his life and death in the trials. If he didn’t have it he would have succumbed to the challenges long ago.  

“Help me again, alright?” Tightening his grasp on the empty potion bottle, John closed his eyes. “Please, give me a potion that can let me find the tree monster hiding here.”

The potion bottle shook in his hand. John opened his eyes and saw a glowing green liquid filling the empty space of the bottle. He had watched the process countless times yet he had no idea how the bottle could produce something from nothing. It was incredible really. He would have loved to figure out the mysteries of its operation method, but he had a more precedent task at hand.

The Nature Eye potion had a pungent, earthy smell that immediately hit John's nostrils as soon as he uncorked the bottle. It smelled like a combination of damp soil, freshly cut grass, and blooming flowers. It was not an entirely pleasant smell, but it had a natural, organic quality to it that made John feel like he was breathing in the essence of the forest.

As John brought the potion to his lips, he couldn't help but grimace at the bitter, acrid taste that assaulted his tongue. It was like drinking a mouthful of crushed leaves and twigs mixed with dirt and water. The taste was so overpowering that he had to swallow it quickly to keep from gagging.

But as soon as the potion passed his throat and began to spread through his body, John could feel a sense of heightened awareness and connection to the natural world around him. The smell and taste of the potion were quickly forgotten as he began to see things with a new clarity and depth.

John's vision began to change. Even his artifacts glowed to his eyes under the power of the potion. The Grimoire, the empty bottle, and the statue glowed in a green glow, while the rest had a white hue to them.

He glanced at the dead trees. None of the trees showed any sign of change. They were all dead. Except for one. Which glowed with a malevolent red aura. He had found the bog monster.

John couldn’t smile as he readied himself for the fight. The tree looked not a branch different from the others around it. He knew that he wouldn’t have found it in the bog without the potion. Once again the empty potion bottle had helped him. It had given him a chance to take the matter of his life into his hands.

John held the statue in his hand. He didn’t know how it would happen, but he thought about summoning the hawk and a surge of power flew through his body into the statue. The statue glowed and floated out of his hand.

John saw a faint outline of a bird taking shape. The glow grew brighter, and the bird became more defined until it solidifies into a majestic red hawk. The hawk was the size of a small car, smaller than the blizzard hawk, but possessing the same set of sharp talons and beady eyes.

John's heart raced in vigilance, he didn’t know how to act. Perhaps the hawk sensed his confusion and took perch on top of the tree, staring at him with a sense of calmness that made John realize it was his summoned beast and was there to follow his command. 

John stopped hesitating and climbed onto the hawk's back, feeling the warmth of its feathers and the strength of its muscles.

The hawk looked majestic, but it was only there for five minutes. Spreading its wings, it took off into the air, soaring high above the bog.

John feels a rush of excitement as the wind rushed through his hair. He could see the entire trial from above.

As they flew closer to the tree, John saw the panic in the tree monster's movements. Its roots flailed wildly, branches dancing without air, trying to reach out and grab the hawk and its rider.

But the hawk was too fast and nimble for the monster to catch. As they got closer, the monster started grabbing whatever it found on the ground and started throwing it at the, but John used his homing missiles to clear the path. With each passing moment, John felt more and more confident in his abilities.

Finally, the hawk came to a stop hovering above it.

John didn’t know if the hawk would be able to defeat the tree monster. His doubts disappeared when he felt the strong heat radiating from the hawk's body.  With a screech the hawk let out a fiery breath, engulfing the tree monster in flames. The monster writhed in agony as its body caught fire. It tried to encapsulate itself inside the barrier of its roots, but it took a few seconds before it burned to ash.

John watched in awe as the monster burned and crackled. The smell of burning wood and moss filled his nostrils, and the sound of the fire was like music to his ears. The monster's flailing slowed, and it let out one final groan before collapsing into a heap of charred wood and ash.

The hawk let out a triumphant screech, and John couldn't help but feel a sense of accomplishment. He had defeated the bog's guardian.

John ordered the hawk to take him to the ground. Firstly, the hawk’s time was up. Secondly, and more importantly, he saw the exit.  

The hawk screeched loudly one last time before it started glowing and disappearing into a shower of light, leaving behind the floating crystal statue. It floated toward John, who snatched it from the air and put it back into his pocket.

His eyes back on the tree monster… the dead tree monster that stood slumped, charred, and smoldering in the darkness. Its trunk was cracked in the middle, a gap revealing the shimmer of the light barrier that covered the exit.

John breathed a sigh of relief and made his way toward the tree monster, his heart still racing from the intense battle he had just faced. He looked back at the bog one last time, feeling a sense of triumph for overcoming the trial and then left through the exit.