Khoryv stood on a patch of soil.
"All right," he declared, spreading his arms wide. "Let's see what you've really learned."
The earth trembled.
From the roots and bones of the forest, he summoned shapes—figures of bark, stone, and old rage. Viry, he called them: Slavic guardian spirits twisted by centuries of neglect and forgotten worship. Half-hollow, half-flame, their bodies shimmered like dried ash and serpent smoke.
The grove cracked open into separate territories, each tailored to its challenger.
He turned first to Yurko.
The trees parted into a dense archery range built from moving trunks, darting shadow targets, and spiraling vines. The crossbow in Yurko's hands shivered with hunger.
"Your weapon is full for now," Khoryv said. "Don't worry about bolts—it draws from the damned. Plenty of Navs and Mavkas still roam the wood. Go hunting if you run dry."
He ruffled the fur of the waiting wolf, who sat beside him like a proud horse.
"And this one's your new legs. You're the slowest among them, Yurko. But the most precise. You'll need to ride and shoot if you want to stay alive."
The wolf barked and wagged its tail.
Yurko stared at both wolf and crossbow, uncertain—but nodded.
Khoryv moved on.
To Lybid and Maksym, he raised both hands. Stone erupted before them—golems, shaped from rotwood. They hissed and snapped like dying trees.
"Your trial is simple," Khoryv said. "Kill them before they learn to kill you.
Roots shifted to make an arena. Flames flickered along the edges.
He separated them with a natural fence of roses with sharp throns.
Then he turned toward Kyi, pointedly passing over Shchek and Methodius.
"You," Khoryv said, folding his arms, "are the strangest of them all."
Kyi blinked.
"I feel two truths. Light and water. The blessing of 'His' Son—and the touch of Dana."
Khoryv circled him.
"I don't know," Kyi said honestly. "My mother—she—"
Khoryv raised a hand gently. "I know."
He walked back to the center.
"Have you prayed to Dana since?"
Kyi shook his head. "I did once. She was… furious. My faith is in God."
Khoryv let out a sigh.
"Well. Faith is a jealous thing."
He looked to the sky.