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PART 1

“M-my masters will kill me...”

“Your masters will never know.” Lurp crooned. When the man just whimpered, she drove her knee into the small of his back. “They aren't your biggest concern right now. I am.” She twisted his thumb till it broke.

“I'll say it again, tell me about the challenges!”

Since Lurp had found out about Eclipseon, she'd had her ear to the ground, following threads of rumors, and threads of threads. If she was going to take on the challenges of the tower, she had to be prepared, and the best way she knew of to prepare was to learn everything she could beforehand. The rumors had lead her to the man pinned under her with his arms behind his back in an alley that smelled of last week's garbage. Her shifting had allowed her to track and then subdue him.

“I don't know what you're talking a-about.” Lurp briskly broke 3 more knuckles in a stacatto that was almost musical.

“Th-they are different for everyone. Made to test YOUR weaknesses!”

Lurp pondered. Fire? Elemental magics? Water? It didn't matter. She could handle whatever it took to get back to Will.

“And after them, then what? What am I looking for?”

Silence. Lurp leaned in and whispered into his ear “I'm running out of fingers. Wanna see what I break next?”

“A token!”

“What?”

“An item from your world or past that represents you.”

Lurp froze. Though she hadn't heard of it before this moment she could picture her token perfectly. Long ago, Will had found Lurp's original arvul name, Hanu, a small mountain flower. But it had been so many years and she was such a different person, she couldn't see herself as Hanu anymore. Will pointed out that Lurp didn't truly fit her either. Deep inside she'd felt nameless. Then Will had surprised her. He'd tucked a lily in her hair, told her she was indeed a flower, one that had blossomed in adversity, and named her Lily. Her token could only be that lily he'd given her.

The man was crying. Lurp knocked him out and climbed off of him. Will's god was forgiving, but might not look well on torture, so Lurp hadn't ripped the fingers off as she otherwise might, and now splinted the ones she'd broken.

She needed to eat and to rest to be prepared for the shifting the challenges would require. Actually... Lurp paused. She was in her best shifting condition immediately after her time in her true form. This wouldn't come naturally for at least two weeks, but if she wanted the best chance at beating these challenges...

Lurp took off, shifting from human to a dog, then a cat, then back again, wearing herself out and forcing her time to come early. She would find a safe place to weather the hours in her natural form, and when it was over, she would face Eclipseon.


PART 2

Lurp had been in the labyrinth an hour, but other than logic puzzles and booby traps she'd had to shift her way through, she hadn't come across any “challenges” In fact she thought she was going in circles but around the next corner she came upon a door. “Overcome” it read. It opened silently for her, then closed and disappeared, replaced by stone wall.

In the room before her was a lake. A ledge ran around the room and up the walls were smaller ledges. Bursts of flame discharged from holes above them. In the center of the room was a small island with an archway, and dangling just above it on a golden chain was the key. Guarding the island were four waterfalls, churning the lake into foam that ringed the island. Fire and water? So these were the weaknesses they decided to attack. Lurp had to smirk. Though she feared them both, this would be too easy. She could just send a tentacle to snatch the key. She tried, but nothing happened. She couldn't shift. This isn't fair! How could she be expected to do anything without her shifting?

Lurp reassessed the room. Just within reach of the top fire ledges was a causeway. The key's chain hung from it if she could just get up there. Easier said than done. Still, Lurp was determined. She wasn't going to quit at the first trial. The flame bursts came at regular intervals. Fine, she just had to time her climbing. Even without shifting, Lurp was strong enough to pull herself up onto the first ledge, and then the second. On the third she mis-timed, singeing her thigh. The pain was unbelievable and she couldn't shift her pain receptors from the wound site, but she kept going. Finally she reached the causeway, and shinnied down and took the key. When Lurp stepped through the archway, she was back in the maze, and the archway disappeared.

She must be behind the other competitors now. She ran looking for the next challenge. Coming around a corner, she almost fell. The floor was slick with blood. A man lay slumped over, blood trailing from his mouth. A gash ran full across his stomach and Lurp could see his intestines. The other competitors had to be far ahead; no one else would find him. Then again that wasn't her problem. She wouldn't give up her quest to help a stranger. With a wound like that, I couldn't get him help before it was too late anyway.

Lurp turned to move on, but a hand weakly grasped her ankle. Only gurgling came from his throat, but the man's eyes pleaded with her. It would be an agonizing death. Something like pity moved her and she knelt down. She leaned in.“This is the most I can do for you” she whispered, and quickly slit his throat. The pain faded from his eyes. As she stood, she spotted something. A key! Lurp hesitated before picking it up. It's not as if I killed him for it. She grabbed it and continued on her way.

Eventually she found another door. This one said “Relive.” Anxious to catch up she pushed it open into a room with a dirt floor. Thin windows near the ceiling let in weak light. Again, the door disappeared behind her. Something was familiar about this place and an automatic dread made Lurp nauseated. The sound of steps coming down from upstairs made her realize this was not just any room; it was THE room. The room where they had held her, where they had beaten her, where night after night they had put their hands on her and... The footsteps grew louder. Choked and panicked Lurp clawed at the wall. The door reappeared and Lurp FELL out of it in her hurry to get away from those footsteps.

She took a moment collecting herself. She couldn't do this! But she had to reunite with Will... “Relive” Did that mean one night? Or the entire two years? One night, she could do that... couldn't she? She reached for the door but fear stayed her hand. What if it was two years? How could she possibly live through that again? To be so helpless, so alone. And this time without even the hope of being rescued to cling to!

Those hands, all those hands...

No, she couldn't. Will would never ask her to do it. Will wouldn't WANT her to! Lurp backed away. It took a stunned moment for her to realize what this meant. She had lost. No, there had to be another way. Maybe I can find another challenge. Maybe Eclipseon isn't the only way off of Serendipity.

Lurp wandered aimlessly arguing with herself. She found no other doors. She did find a room with a large pit in the center. Distracted, Lurp didn't hear anyone approaching. There was a tug at her right hip, and a shove from behind. Lurp fell into the pit. The impact of hitting bottom left her stunned and twitching. When she could move again, she stood shakily. Her keys were gone.

She climbed from the pit and became a dog, turning in circles to gather her attacker's scent. Then she was off like an arrow. It didn't take long for Lurp to catch up with the thief. Moving silently, she spotted her climbing a staircase. Lurp noticed the woman had not only Lurp's key, but another. Will's god would frown on killing an unarmed person from behind, but surely this counted as self-defense. Afterall, if she let this woman live, Lurp might very well end up dead.

“This has nothing to do with that key...”

She sent out a sharp-tipped tentacle, piercing the woman through the throat. Lurp yanked it out and the woman crumpled to the floor. Lurp retrieved all three keys. They were slick with blood so Lurp wiped them on the woman's shirt. Will and his god would understand.



PART 3

Lurp had been certain that someone else must have reached the top of the tower by now, but she'd heard no fanfare, felt no magic... surely there would be something to indicate that someone had won? She pressed on until she came to a winding staircase. At the top was a door three times the size of any of the others she had seen. Right at eye level were three large keyholes. Lurp felt her kir pulse in anticipation. With shaky hands she pushed each of the three keys into its hole. The click as she turned them was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard. She shoved on the doors. Nothing happened. She tried again. Nothing. She looked for a latch. She examined the door minutely for anything she might have missed. She tried turning the keys another way, then turning one key but not the others in various combinations. Nothing she tried worked. The keys turned fine in their locks, but the door remained closed.

Frustrated, Lurp kicked it and battered with her fists, screaming obscenities all the while. The door looked on indifferently, unbudging. Lurp panted. She couldn't think of anything else to try. Perhaps the door wasn't opening because two of the keys had been taken, not earned? But then why would they turn in their locks at all? No, someone must have beaten her to the prize. That was the only explanation. Lurp slumped at the top of the winding staircase and held her head in her hands.

“Such a dramatic display, it would be a shame to stop now.”

Lurp turned whiplash fast, a tentacle blade stopping just short of impaling the hooded figure who had somehow gotten behind her.

“Who are you?” She inched the blade closer to its throat. “What do you want?”

“To help you, of course.” Lurp glared. The figure, whose odd voice sounded neither male nor female, just laughed.

“You won't get into the Chamber of Worlds that way. It takes more than the three keys.”

“And that is?”

“Two other things. First, you must have a planesborn with you.” Lurp narrowed her eyes. She could see where this was going “We'll get to that, but first a proposition. As you've no doubt guessed, I am planesborn. I can help you pass through that door. S/he gestured at it. “Naturally I, we rather, want something in return.” Lurp raised an eyebrow at the “we”. “You've no doubt heard of the arguments in the senate, we need an outsider to champion our cause.”

“I'll do it.” Lurp interrupted hir before s/he could say more.

The figure seemed surprised “You don't want to know which side we ARE first?”

“It doesn't matter.” Lurp answered with a shrug. “If you can get me through that door and back to my world, I will throw myself into your cause. Whatever it is, I will argue your case to the senate with my entire being.”

“Excellent.” Lurp could hear the smile in the planesborn's voice. Then its demeanor changed. “The last thing you must do in order to enter the chamber is make the ultimate personal sacrifice.”

“Which is?”

“I cannot tell you, it is YOUR sacrifice.”

Lurp pondered The ultimate personal sacrifice... It only took her seconds to realize what it was. To lose her shifting permanently and be forever trapped in her true form. She shuddered. Lurp thought of all the things she wouldn't be able to do. Could Will love me like that? He said he didn't mind how she looked during her time, but he only had to see it for a day every month or so... If she always looked that way, if she could not do the things she did for him with her shifting, would he still want her?

I need to have faith in him.

But having faith in Kir had destroyed her.

Have faith in no one!

But she loved Will, and he loved her!

I felt that way about Kir once.

Lurp took a breath. If she couldn’t get back to Will, it wouldn't matter if he loved her or not. Their love had already been tried, many times, and Will had proven himself with each one. She needed to have faith he could love her in any form, even if it was her own. She took a deep breath and reached for the door.

Begining
Amidst the numerous tokens that the temple had collected was a golden ring; two stems entwined forming a band below five open petals of a wild rose in full bloom. Avery’s ties to Leyerril each represented in this one token. The circular band of Sentelle’s wedding ring eternal as his love for her. The wild rose; crest of his family, and reminder of his obligation to his people. His love for them both evidenced in the betrothal he had accepted at Sentelle’s birth; the wedding he had accepted before he discovered it was the only one he wanted.

What he had been told of Eclipseon had Avery highly excited; an opportunity to test his limits (possibly to the breaking point) intoxicated and enthralled him. He struggled between a desire to exhaustively research the matter and an urge to rush to the temple immediately and test his limits while acquiring first-hand knowledge. He guessed that much like when he had retrieved artifacts back home, he would need help. He was lacking in meaningful magical abilities, he found a wizard. Armor slowed his movements, so he needed someone who could take the hits and hopefully hold the attention of the enemy allowing him to make opportune attacks; he persuaded a fighter to join his efforts. A task this dangerous surely required a healer as well; she too was won over to his cause. The group felt incomplete without Eelaqacias though, and in a way so did Avery. For the first time Avery realized how much he relied on Eelaqacias. The friend he trusted absolutely with his life, the man who forced Avery to stop and think about things, the one person Avery was sure knew him better than he knew himself.

Authentic information about Eclipseon and the tower was hard to come by, though Avery was unable to satiate his curiosity he did succeed in gathering a reasonable amount of information, in varying degrees of reliability, while searching out suitable companions to accompany him on this adventure. He had learned to read people and was usually a good judge of character; he hoped he had chosen his companions well. His genuine warmth and caring made winning others to his cause easy, less often seen was his icy temper.

Avery had no idea what his token looked like but he would find it. Skeptically hopeful of the token’s rumored ability to restore him to Sentelle, his family, and his people Avery would test his mettle as he worked his way through the temple in its pursuit.

Avery checked the door to the temple for traps; carefully disabling the trap and picking the lock without much difficulty he opened the door. Before entering the temple he offered a prayer to C'Vesia, Sentelle’s God. He was not a devout follower, or much of a follower for that matter, but faith meant a great deal to Sentelle so he had learned to observe her religion to an extent. Besides, it certainly couldn’t hurt.

Middle
Avery fought his way through the temple much as he would any other dungeon; killing monsters and collecting treasure. It seemed that he had been wise in his choice of companions, and thankfully they worked together well with each other as well as with him.

Chance’s cold smile stopped him in his tracks. A chill ran down his spine. The memory of iron chaffing his wrists and a cold stone wall at his back washed over him. He was thankful, not for the first time, that much of what had been visited upon him between those reprieves had been lost to his conscious mind.

Chance had been his friend and guide to the world of traps and locks until he had discovered that “Leaf” was Avery Ne'Havareruil. Second prince of Leyerril. Avery had been too easy to “break” for Chance to accept the truth of the answers that Avery would have offered up to Chance (not the guild) without torture, so his suffering had been prolonged. Yes, he was Avery Ne’Havareruil, second prince of Layerril. He had hidden this from Chance because he had understood, to a lesser degree than he did now, the dangers of this coming to light within the guild. Yes he would keep the guild’s secrets up until the point that the guild may put his people in danger. No he wasn’t a spy, nor an informant...

Chance had finally either accepted these answer or given up, Avery wasn’t certain which when he had been released to Briell’s care. It was thanks to this cleric’s great faith and careful attendance that Avery had no scars, nor lingering disfigurements from this ordeal.

While Avery certainly didn’t relish the prospect of reliving that time in his life he had learned and grown from the experience and motioned for his team to hold while he approached Chance. To Avery’s bewilderment Chance extended his hand, and uncurling his fingers revealed a Key.

Avery placed the key in a pocket inside his leather armor as he thought about the last time that he had seen Chance. After Briell had released him from her care he had looked for Chance to no avail and had returned home to Leyerril, questions unanswered. Several years later Chance found him.

“This one claims he knows you personally Highness,” the guard said with a respectful incline of his head.

Avery recognized Chance despite the years having been unkind to the human rogue he had once trusted. The interim had softened his hard feelings but done nothing to answer his questions. “I know no man such as this.” Avery stated authoritatively. “What is his crime?” he asked in the same air.

“Caught him attempting to break into the palace,” the second guard offered up.

“Manacles and a secure cell, if he was attempting to break in, no doubt he’ll attempt to break out,” he planted the thought and dismissed the guards.

Avery could never have imagined that fate would place Chance at his mercy in this manner. Denying his knowledge of Chance had brought him no pleasure, but he understood, ironically in part thanks to Chance, that Avery must not be seen as a rogue or visa-versa. Part of him wanted to leave Chance to his punishment, part of him wanted answers, the part of him that had wanted payback had been short-lived and was not present now.

That night Aeth’eeru (his rogue identity with his local guild) made his way easily to Chance’s cell via Avery’s extensive knowledge of the palace. The lock on the door was no challenge thanks to the time he’d spent secretly practicing on palace locks.

As Chance opened his mouth to speak, Avery responded with a gesture for silence. Chance nodded. Avery worked the lock on the manacles quickly and took Chance’s wrist to guide him out. Chance balked. Avery pulled, but Chance did not follow. Chance pointed to himself, made a round gesture over his abdomen and pointed to the floor. Avery sighed. He couldn’t relate to chance, but he understood what had brought him here. He nodded and tugged once more, this time Chance followed.

His memory shifted to reality as Avery followed Chance to a cell. Instead of Chance’s pregnant Æoni he found his second key. Chance was gone.

Lyril ran forward and grabbed the key. With a spell she was gone. Avery cursed.

So what did he do now? Continue on without a mage he guessed. There was one more key to find after all. Another battle and another victory revealed a female satyr wounded near death. Avery lifted his sword to finish her; in his world satyrs were treacherous creatures who would spin you a sad tale to lure you into helping them then betray that help at the first opportunity. As he moved to finish her she lifted her arm in a gesture of defense. Perhaps she’s not like those from my world, that moment of doubt stopped his blade from piercing the flesh it now pressed against. Had it been his world he would have ended her with a coup de grace.

“Speak,” he instructed, blade at her throat.

She spoke of a man who had approached her with information about Eclipseon. She had come to find a way back to her husband and family. She hadn’t yet gained any keys. The way she spoke of her husband had moved Avery, and withdrawing his blade, he instructed Gwenn to heal the satyr enough to accompany them, but not to restore her to full health. Gwenn looked at Avery crossly and he could see that she too had been moved by the yarn this satyr had spun. He shook his head and she complied, so far Avery had given her no reason to doubt his decisions.

The moment of betrayal that Avery had kept in his mind as a keen possibility came. In that moment he showed no hesitation in ending the satyr. He was also not surprised to find two keys among her belongings.

End
Avery was surprised to find a small object floating in the middle of the room; the information he had been given said that the token would be extremely difficult to find. Cautiously he approached. The small object appeared to be his wedding band. In shock he checked his finger, his ring was still there. Then the token is just that, a token, he thought.

Taking hold of this token Avery was assaulted by a series of incidents playing out in rapid succession; his mother’s face buried in his father’s shoulder, and wrapped in his arms, as her body shook with sorrow, his brother at the head of an army marching on Ka’mahre’s estate, his sister comforting her crying twins. Eelaqacias stood respectfully aloof, though clearly disheartened, as Sentelle cradled his cold dead body to hers; he could feel her wet cheek pressed to his as she whispered; “Now I see the roses.” Her words ripped his heart from his chest; in his proposal he had promised to show her the roses where she had been shown only thorns.

Avery clenched his fist around the ring, forcing the scene to focus on Sentelle. As painful as it was for him to see any he loved suffering his death it was Sentelle’s grief which most deeply wounded him. He wanted desperately to enfold her in the warmth of his embrace and promise her that everything would be well. He wanted to end her pain and do as he had promised; show her the roses. He wanted to go adventuring with her, then listen to her recount the tale of how they had succeeded together. He wanted to kiss her softly and have her freely and wholly return his affection with her own passionate kiss. He wanted to raise a family with her.

It would be impossible for him to sacrifice either his dream or his reality with Sentelle. He would never give up on that which he most desired and loved! He gripped the ring willing himself to return to his world only to find himself standing in front of the mocking token of his wedding ring.

“Did you really think it would be so easy?” a cloaked figured scoffed.

Avery turned to face the figure, his eyes narrowed in scrutiny. “Who are you?” he asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” the figure stated neutrally.

Something didn’t sit well with Avery about this figure and he wanted nothing to do with it. “Step aside,” he stated calmly.

The figure obliged with a bow.

Avery could see no door for his keys anywhere. He had not come this far to turn away now, yet he wondered... was this too part of the test? He’d heard of such things; giving up what you sought to gain it. There was also the possibility that he had chased a false rumor, or that he had been beaten to the treasure; wouldn’t be the first time on either account. While it appeared that something along those lines had occurred he still had the satisfaction of having made it this far. Playing along in hopes of coaxing out the answer he asked noncommittally, “What is it you want?”

“A partnership,” the figure replied. “What you were not told is that to gain your token it also requires the aid of a planesborn. I am one such,” The figure paused to let the words sink in. “However I am in need of an outsider to represent my cause in the senate.”

Avery was aware of the factions and their need of an outsider each. His desire to remain unengaged in foreign politics had not changed since his conversation with Variable, yet he found himself asking, “Which cause is that?” While it was true that there was good and ill to be found in each faction’s proposition there were those which he would personally find easier to argue for the good.

“That answer I am not at liberty to supply you with.” Avery couldn’t see the figure’s face but he had a feeling that it was smirking at him.

Politics and diplomacy he’d been raised into, he had no concern for his ability in either, but he was uncertain at how well he could champion a cause not his own; especially if it were one that he was morally opposed to. Perhaps this would grant him an opportunity to present his thoughts to the Lady and the council. Was it worth it? He guessed he’d find out. “Very well,” he accepted.

The Beginning

They had alluded to something along the lines of greatest desires being fulfilled.

Rhyn found competition exhausting and dull. Additionally, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there were unspoken reasoning behind this challenge that was issued to the masses of outsiders. However, the reward was compelling enough that he eventually disregarded his reservations and began preparations. He began after the lengthy debate with himself. Rhyn assumed time was of the essence seeing how he decided to go through to the challenge so late after the announcement had been given, so he packed lightly.

He placed food he had purchased the other day, along with a container of water and his staff into a satchel and made his way down to the grounds. Even when he wasn’t in a hurry, he relied heavily on his own skills and wouldn’t have packed much more.

Rhyn had no doubts concerning his ability to logically piece things together in order to secure the greatest outcome. Conversely, inadequate time to gage the potential repercussions of his actions, more often than not, led to a less than desirable consequence; after all, it was thanks to his spur-of-the-moment thinking that he had landed himself in Serendipity in the first place. Assuming he could return to his previous existence, Rhyn figured he may as well take a chance. As far as he was concerned, he was already dead.

What Rhyn didn’t take into consideration was the concern he had for his friends being easily turned into a disadvantage. This was especially true in the case of Keiyani. He would never admit to it to another, let alone himself.

Recalling the words of the man who had approached him earlier, he remembered that some object of importance to him was the key to receiving his greatest wish. The only item he supposed it could be, was a small clay bead painted purple and white. Rhyn had had the bead during the time he was undergoing experimentation, as he had picked it off from the table the morning before, where his mother had been stringing necklaces. Ever since his integration into the Abbey, he kept it stored safely in a drawer along with important notes and other items of value.

While it was just an object, it had more sentimental value to Rhyn than any other of his material possessions. The bead had been a small sense of comfort in the lab. Often times he hadn’t been able to sleep. Sometimes it was due to many of the surrounding children wailing and crying, more often times it the frightened voices that would flood his thoughts in the dead of night. Grasping the bead, he would focus his thoughts to his mother, humming as she usually did when she would go about the day. While it didn’t, or hardly ever, lull him to sleep, it had helped give him drive to survive the night, in the hope that he would escape one day and make his way back to her.


The Middle

The doorway melted away into a large, disturbingly white hallway. In the distance amidst marble pillars, stood an unmoving figure.

Who...

“My lady!” he exclaimed, hurrying forward. “How did you-”

Without warning, the girl wheeled around, a sickeningly wide smile on her face. Rhyn noticed a moment too late. While springing backward, claws sliced through his clothing, penetrating his shoulder and arm. He landed flat on his back, his assailant on top, pinning his arms on either side with her knees. Her clawed hand forced deeper.

“P-princess Keiya-” he gasped.

Rhyn couldn’t move. He was petrified, unable to bring himself to fight back.

Why?

Strike followed strike, each cutting deeper than the previous.

What happened?

She intended to kill him.

Was it because I left her?

Rhyn was going to die at the hands of the one he trusted most.

I am so sorry...

As his vision faded, one of the voices in his head became more distinct. The chiding, malicious voice, repeating depreciating thoughts, sounded familiar. More than just another of the many in his head, this voice reminded him of- no, it sounded exactly like

“Lias.”

“You remember me” the girl responded in a gravelly, low voice.

She slapped him again, slicing his cheek open. Mustering the strength he had left, Rhyn began emanating a white aura around his body. The girl flinched, hopping backwards in a hasty retreat.

“I anticipated that.”

Rhyn sat himself quickly. Ignoring the gray spots in his vision, he extended his arm, pressing his hand onto the girls abdomen. A brilliant light burst from his palm, disappearing into her body.

“Return to Hell, fiend.”

The girl let out an wretched scream as she swung wildly, sending Rhyn slamming back onto the floor. Her form became rigid when a dark aura escaped from her body. As it dissipated, she slumped to the ground, fading until only a golden key remained. The illusion had been destroyed.

An anguished howl echoed through the chamber.

Rhyn wept bitterly.


She had suggested that they teamed together to complete the task at hand. The darkness was crawling with many aggressive, formidable creatures, and the woman had already proved skillful in the way she wielded knifes.

Given the opportunity, Rhyn would have avoided coming in contact with her. However, she was now aware of his presence and the next best tactic was to keep tabs on her. His gut feeling proved right, as the moment they reached the exit and the two golden keys, she turned.

Rhyn’s eyes snapped open, his nose wrinkling at the overpowering stench of iron. Somehow he had survived. As the next room materialized in front of him, he saw various creatures, similar to those previously encountered, covering the floor. Dead. It appeared that someone had already been in the room.

He made his way cautiously over the corpses, alert for anything among the remains still moving. As Rhyn approached the entrance to the next room, he noted a ragged, shallow breathing coming from nearby. He scanned the area for the source when his eyes landed on the gravely injured body of a female. Dashing toward the woman, he stooped down to make an assessment. Upon turning her over, he realized it the same woman he had encountered earlier.

A knot formed in his stomach as he stared at the face of his backstabber. It may have been the labyrinth playing tricks on him, but in his mind, her features had morphed into the face of that turncoat, Waldron; The man, who when given a second chance at life and reform, had turned traitor and nearly did irreversible damage.

“This isn’t him” Rhyn told himself, shaking his head free of the vision.

He focused his energy to the palm of his hand when the image flashed across his sight again, causing him to double over and vomit. Wiping his face, he shakily pushed himself up into a standing position casting his eyes downward. Rhyn’s normally calm expression turned foul, his eyes darkening as he glowered at the woman.

“How deplorable.”

Not giving another thought, he turned and exited the room.


He walked into a hazy, indistinguishable room. It was only after the doors had clicked shut did it take shape. Rhyn went as white as a sheet when the lights came on. Before him was the room he once had almost died in.

Frantically he turned for the doors he had entered. Fumbling with the handles he found they would not open. He cast his eyes about the room and darted for the only window. Two men no taller than he, advanced on him. Grasping him at the shoulders and arms, they resisted any attempts Rhyn made to free himself, escorting him to a table.

“What are you- Hold on! I’ve already been through this!”

Paying him no heed, they thrust him harshly onto the table-top, binding him down tightly. He twisted and pulled relentlessly at the reinforced straps that bound him, but they were unyielding.

A man then approached Rhyn, holding a foreign, tube shaped device containing a vibrant orange liquid with a large needle attached to the end. Rhyn’s eyes widened in alarm.

“No! Not again.”

His mind reeled, muscles contracted. How was he re-experiencing the same event from so many years ago?

The inoculation began.

Rhyn released a horrifying yell. It felt like dying had. Only, again and again. Each injection was more excruciating than the first. It was like a fire running its course, melting down and consuming every last resource in its path; Rhyn’s fighting and resistance only fueled the fire, causing it to burn hotter and longer.

Eventually, each addition transformed from the sharp, electrical surge to a dull pulse. His vision was failing, but he didn’t care anymore. Everything he was determined to hold onto the first time, was gone. It was all back at home, where which he could only guess he could return to now.

As he let his eyes drift shut, the illusion gradually disappeared.


The End

Blast.

The door he had come to wouldn’t open. No key hole to speak of was in sight either. Every other set of doors he had encountered prior to this had opened when Rhyn had reached them. This hadn’t budged an inch, stubbornly resisting any pushing or ramming he attempted. Inhaling deeply, he released another sigh, deciding his next best course of action was to find the quickest exit.

What a farce. A wide frown of disapproval spread across his face. I should have known better than to have assumed this was legitimate.

The silence was draining. Emotionally and physically spent, Rhyn leaned against a neighboring wall and slid to the floor. Rubbing his temples, he sighed again.

“So you made it.”

Rhyn jumped when the voice came from out of nowhere.

“Pardon me?” He pushed himself up quickly into a standing position, scanning the spacious room for the owner of the voice. A figure-like shadow stood in a nearby corner, swaying slightly.

“You’re finally here. It took you long enough” it chuckled.

“Do you need something?”

The tone in his voice was serious, his eyes glued to the figure as it moved into closer proximity. This individual clearly wanted something. Rhyn figured he should make a point of asking. The shadow drifted closer.

“I should say so. Not in the way you likely assume, but yes.”

Rhyn cocked an eyebrow in disbelief, still unmoving.

“And why do you suppose I would help you?”

“It’s, oh, how does the phrase go? ‘I scratch your back, you scratch mine’ kind of deal. You do want what’s on the other side of that door, right?” It moved in the direction of the massive pair of doors.

Rhyn simply nodded.

“So I can get you through” the being continued. “Provided you assist me in my proposal to the Senate, afterward.”

“Desperate?”

The shadow shook from side to side.

“I wouldn’t say that. But time is short.”

Rhyn sighed inwardly. If any other remote possibility of getting through had presented itself, he would have disregarded the suggestion entirely. He reasoned there was a slim possibility of it being worse than any of the other trials he had just experienced.

“In that case, I accept.”

“Oh, one more thing...” The voice trailed off thoughtfully. “In order to get through, you must forfeit your memories concerning those closest to you.”

“What?” he spat, “you must be mad.”

Rhyn generally kept his emotions in check, handling upsetting situations with diplomacy and levelheadedness. However, recent events had put him on edge resulting in him acting more on impulse, inadvertently exposing his fears and apprehensions. He was tired. Exhausted. An additional imposition only enraged him further.

“There would be no point to return home only to be alone.” He gestured widely, emphasising his statement. “Those close to me are the only reason I desired to go back so greatly that I went through these accursed games of yours in the first place.”

The shadow snorted.

“The conditions outlined would not prevent you from seeing or communicating with them, your memories would simply be altered. Consequently, you would have no recollection of your past experiences involving them.”

“Precisely.” Rhyn grimaced. “You must be mad,” he repeated purposefully, “if you think I would go through with such a demand.”

“These friends of yours,” the shadow moved closer, speaking more quietly, “they became important to you at one point. Who’s to say it won’t happen again?”

“The experiences won’t be the same.” Rhyn continued glaring, moving a pace away.

“You won’t realize that. You won’t remember.” The shadow again moved closer, partially encircling him, intentionally providing him with a false sense of security.

“But they will” Rhyn shouted leaping backward against a wall.

“You are too concerned about the welfare of others.”

“It’s not what I...” Rhyn’s voice failed him.

Flooded in thoughts of friends and family, happy to see him return, only to be shattered into sorrow and despair when he treated them as utter strangers. Many tears and confused, forlorn faces, and then, her... What happened in the last room. It was too much.

“You do realize this is your only option to proceed?” the figure said, leaning against the wall.

“I understand-”

The shadow rushed forward, encompassing him.

“Then make your choice.”

Rhyn froze. Immense power emanated from the being. Swallowing heavily, he attempted to strengthen his resolve. Keeping himself firmly planted, he looked through the form with determination.

“I can not go forward.”

“So be it.”

The Beginning:

“Hello, Outsider.”

It was Bernie, of course. He had appeared suddenly (with a puff of dramatic smoke, naturally) on the wall, beside me.

“Come to get more of my witty insights, Bernie?”

“No.” Bernie peers at me as though attempting to see the inner workings of my mind. “A test is to be conducted.”

“What?”

“You must find this.” Bernie waves his hand, projecting a shimmering image.

I nearly fall off the wall. “Mrs. Blubberlump?”

Bernie scowls at the image—a small, disgusting doll, poorly stitched together, with one eye and singed strands of fabric sprouting from a lumpy head.

The doll was given to me so long ago; back on Earth. Mrs. Blubberlump had been the only thing I’d owned that was not a necessity—the only gift I’d ever received out of kindness, and not total manipulation. Its original owner had died. I could’ve done something to stop that… probably.

“It is your token,” Bernie sneers. “Your link to the world you came from… and the object that binds you to Serendipity.”

“Mrs. Blubberlump?”

“Yes, you simpleton! Don’t you see? This is the key to your release! With it you could control your world! Shape the very fabric of time and fate! Dictate who lives or dies!”

“With Mrs. Blubbberlump?”

“It’s a symbol!!!!” Bernie bellows.

I smirk. “Fine. How do I get it?”

Bernie gestures to a point off in the distant hills— black clouds rumble through the sky, lit only occasionally by streaks of lightning. Behind the storm, a dark shape looms.

“You must enter Eclipseon and find your token.”

“Lemme guess, it’s at the very top of that very foreboding tower.”

“For once, your unimpressive intellect has allowed you to arrive at the proper conclusion. The path will not be easy. You must pass through a labyrinth of horrors drawn from your very soul. But you are permitted to bring anything with you.”

My mind flashes to Ace, of course, but I reject the idea immediately. Even if it were possible to bring her to this miserable realm, I wouldn’t. She’d be my best chance through the obstacles, certainly, but the labyrinth would use her against me just as surely—I cannot trust myself to act in my best interests with her around.

“But won’t Eclipseon just counter whatever I bring? What’s the point of bringing in a phaser if the maze can just give my enemies electro-armor, y’know? Seems to me the best thing to do would be to go in as I am; I’d be more likely to be overlooked.”

“If that is what you wish, so be it.”

It is. Going through such perils is not my idea of a cautious course of action; normally, I would avoid Eclipseon at all costs. But the power my token offers… it’d guarantee my return to my world, my continued existence… and safety for anyone I chose.

I can only hope my instincts for survival are as strong as I’ve always believed.



The Middle:

The labyrinth is just what I expected: dark and scary. The darkness is actually soothing to my eyes—after so long at Seventeen, I’m still used to seeing only bright colors.

Bernie had convinced me to take my old allo-nife. I know it’s mine because familiar scratches mar the blade. I clutch it helplessly.

There is no way to navigate the maze from what I can tell, so I pick a random corridor. Time is an issue; I’m not the only one looking for my token, according to Bernie, but I have a feeling I’ll not reach my destination until I’ve satisfied the powers-that-be.

It does not take long for me to reach my first challenge, and as soon as I do, an expletive escapes from my lips in a puff of air. The passageway before me is blocked—not by a wall, or bucket-head beast, or deadly assassin, or something fairly unreasonable, but by an entire Militant Unit. The commander stands in front, a phasblaster at the ready, wearing a justifiably smug expression.

Doesn’t seem quite fair to call this a ‘test’ anymore; that would imply I had some semblance of a chance at passing.

“Surrender,” the commander demands.

“Okay. Absolutely. Yes, I surrender.”

The man assumes I’m being facetious. He’s only partially wrong.

“Drop your weapon!”

I could run, I suppose. There’s gotta be more than one way through the maze. I should think staying alive would gain me a passing mark.

The commander is impatient. “I said drop ‘em!”

Bernie said Eclipseon would alter its tests to fit me—but this seems an odd trial. Surely it would know I’d have run from far less than a full death squad. I probably would’ve run from the commander alone…

I grip my knife tighter, my mind puzzling over the facts. This is a test—a test to see what I’d do to move forward. I would never take on such an impossible death under any circumstances; it would mean certain death. But surely Eclipseon knows that. And this is a test.

I’m already dead. I think. I hope. But do I dare take such a gamble? Normally, no. I recognize the feeling bubbling in my chest—bravery. I’m not thrilled at its presence. But this is a calculated risk… it’s just a higher risk than I am used to taking. Still…

The allo-nife flips out of my hand before I fully realize what I’m doing. It embeds itself in the chest of the commander, piercing through his armor. But before the inevitable bombardment of phasbolts, the commander disappears, his squad going with him.

A figure appears in the commander’s place—his face a shadow.

“Funny, that. We thought you would run.
Glad you stayed; this way’s more fun!”

He too vanishes, a golden key floating in his place. I walk forward and pluck it from the air.

My hands tremble.

-

It seems like hours before I come to my next obstacle. By this point, the darkness has lost its appeal—I long for color once again.

A tap on my shoulder and my wish is granted; I spin and topple over—it’s partially due to the overload of colors in her costume, but mainly because the person before me can’t possibly be here.

“Hello, Colter.” Her smile is wide and pleasing, her voice soft and charming. And she’s beautiful, of course. As with the first time I saw her, I’m struck by how much she looks like Aceline.

But they should look similar; she’s Ace’s sister—the Empress Regnant.

She laughs at my clumsiness and my wide-eyed surprise/terror. It’s then you can easily tell the difference between the two; Ace may be formal and stiff, but when she laughs, her eyes sparkle with surprising warmth. The Empress possesses no such tenderness.

“You’re surprised. As though I did not have the resources to find you again.”

This is a test. A test.

I hope.

“We seek the same thing.” She frowns. “But once again, your cooperation would make things easier. You would not be so foolish as to betray me again though, would you, darling?”

I shake my head.

“Good. Perhaps I will let you live if you behave.”

I swallow. “Yes, Empress.”

“We will set things right. Get rid of those who might oppose me, will we not, Colter?”

I know what’ll happen if she gains control of the token. The alien races will be further beaten to submission. We’ll be locked in her control, probably forever. And Aceline will be killed in the most horrible way imaginable.

I know what I must do.

I touch three fingers to my heart and bow my head in servitude.

The Empress disappears.

Another shadowy figure appears.

“The hand of the devil you may have just taken,
But her, we think, you would have soon forsaken.”

Another key.

-


The next trial comes too soon.

I blink once and the world’s aflame. Screams pierce the smoke. I know immediately where I am.

The alley has been set on fire—a punishment for stealing food we needed to survive, I later find.

“Colter!”

It’s Eva. She stumbles into the room—too weak to carry herself.

“Help me, Colt!”

Eva had been my savior. Taken me in. I owe her everything.

But the gap between the flames is narrowing.

So I run.

Eva doesn’t have the strength to scream, but I imagine she does. Traitor! Traitor!Traitor!

It’s not until I’m safe, crouching in another miserable alleyway, that I realize what I’m clutching in my soot-covered hands. Eva had given it to me on my first night with her band of outcasts—I was 8, she was 13. When she handed that ragged doll to me, I fell in love.

I let Mrs. Blubberlump fall to the ground. She disappears. The token is elsewhere.

The last prince appears.

“It was then you knew, at the age of thirteen,
Love was not enough for someone so obscene.”

The last key is heavy.


The End:

The door wouldn’t open.

The keys were in their slots, turned, ready to go, but the door wouldn’t open.

At first, I’d assumed there was a buildup of rust; it didn’t look like anyone had touched the door in eons. But after slamming my shoulder into it enough times to cause a massive bruise, the door was still firmly closed.

It occurred to me then that maybe it was never meant to open at all.

For some reason, I find that thought absolutely hilarious, and before I can push down the feeling rising in my throat, I’m laughing. My laugh echoes around the dull and barren room; it sounds so maniacal that in the back of my mind, I realize that I have probably gone totally loon.

Fantastic. Reliving the worst moment of my life, visiting with my greatest enemy, having to pretend to not possess crippling cowardice, and now… insanity. A perfect way to end the evening.

“Well?” I yell at the space. “What are you waiting for? D’you have another one of my nightmares you’d like to show me?” My words are laced with a tinge of hysteria. “I’m deathly afraid of OPENING DOORS, so why don’t you try that one next you blindin’ …useless…”

My rant is cut off abruptly. “You Outsiders are all the same, thinking everything is about you.”

“Oh, aces. Another figure shrouded in a mysterious shadow!”

The figure ignored my weak jibe. “Always so selfish.”

“Selfish? Yeah. I’m selfish. But so’s everyone else in this blighted universe. So what if you space yourself to save a ship full of orphans? You’re granting yourself a spot in Paradise, aren’t you? Or maybe you do “selfless” things because it makes you feel good… well, you’re still doing it for you then, aren’t you? So don’t talk about selfishness—just because I don’t hide behind religion or love or feel-good-ery. As if you aren’t selfish. Ha!”

“Hmmm. Perhaps. But in your egocentricity, you miss the big picture.” The man continues, infuriatingly calm. “And you must comprehend the big picture to get into the Chamber.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

“You need the assistance of a Planesborn.”

“Fantastic! You’re here. I’m assuming you’re Planesborn. Let’s get to it!”

The shadow chuckles… I think. Either that or he lets out a hacking cough. “I see your “humor”, as it were, has returned.”

“Yeah, well, you try going through the doomsday maze and see how chipper you’re feeling. Are y’gonna help me or not?”

“I will. Perhaps. But first you must help us.”

“Ah, the catch. But sure, I’ll help you. Whatever you need. Anything that doesn’t risk my life.”

“But you do not know what it is we ask of you.”

“Look, I don’t care what you want from me. Way I see it; you’re the only one who can get me through this hunk of metal, so that means you’re my man.”

“Ah. I see. Until someone comes up with a better proposition, I’m sure.”

“So make sure no one comes along with a better offer. Simple, neh?”

“Simple.” He pauses. “There is… another matter.”

“Of course there is.”

“The Chamber… even with our help… will not grant you what you seek unless you are willing to pay the price it requires.”

“Haven’t I done enough by now?”

“You must make the ultimate personal sacrifice.”

“Well, that sounds menacing.”

“You would be able to use your token however you wished… but the Chamber would give you something that you, even with all your power, would never be able to remove—a death curse. Every day you live, the dice are rolled; perhaps one day, you are lucky, but then, perhaps the next day, you are not so lucky. That would be your last day. Do you understand what I say, Outsider?”

I lick my lips, feeling my heart speed up.

“Yes, that’s right. Every single day, your life would be a gamble. And every night, when you lay your head down to sleep, you will think, ‘perhaps I have lived my last day’. Because the next morning, the curse might take your life. No signs. No warning. Just the end. Could you live with that, Outsider?”

“I…I don’t know.”

“Think on it, then. You have time.”

With such a curse, how long could I cheat death? I don’t know. Would I be driven insane with anxiety? I don’t know. And I don’t think I’ll know until I make my final decision. Whenever that’ll be.

Flaming balls. This isn’t good.

The Beginning....

*Ja’tel spat in annoyance as he carried on to a land he did not know. ‘A token...’ he thought to himself. ‘Is ridiculous, but if it means getting to Anorah, I will do whatever for it.’ Though he wondered what it was, he had no idea what to expect. For Ja’tel, his token was neither plain nor simple, much like his life. As if crafted by his god, it was a small artful figurine, a silver hourglass encrusted with blue gems and laden with intricate designs of swirls and flame. Atop it, the dueling griffins of Peace and Chaos carved into the silver and within the glass, smooth white sand like the dunes of his homeland. Though in this hourglass, the sand had run out and needed to be restarted, representing his life force.

*Given a magic plane (he assumed) to prepare himself for the upcoming challenge, Ja’tel sat in pensive meditation upon a dune of sand. It looked identical to his original desert, and just the fact of it made his heart burn with longing. He’d spent the day running in the sand to train his muscles, was given a simulation of the rooftops of Quassimi to sharpen his agility and there had even been men of shadow, seemingly the cult members who had imprisoned him, to train his skill with his blades.It had been so long since he’d seen them. But he wondered as he let sand sift through his fingers, if it also tested his soul. With each fallen man, he felt something within him; A satisfaction. ‘If only it were real’ he thought solemnly. ‘If only I could have revenge.’

*When needing to survive, Ja’tel realizes he must rely on his wits and charm in social situations. Though he may not always be sincere it is necessary for people to think so. That being said, deception is a strong suit. His skill as a fighter and his speed (not to mention dumb luck) has saved him many times from death. To succeed, he must be more committed--stubbornly so. Through logic he determines the best course, and though it may not be something he wishes to face, his ability to push through fear and remain in control has always seen him through. Had he been without it while imprisoned, he’d be dead. In a way, magic plays a small role to assist either his charm, or his fighting. More so now that cursed tattoos made him battle more like a fiend, though he wished they didn’t exist, he finds more and more that he enjoys the use of the new found fury in combat.

***
The Middle...

As he continued down the maze of halls he came across a chamber. An inscription was over the doorway, but he could not decipher it, nor see it well. Yet he entered. Once inside he was inquired by a distant voice through the darkness if he wished to gain the key of the first prince. “Yes…” He called out confident, but wary. The lone source of light behind him vanished, and he was in total pristine darkness. He prepared himself, ready to reach for his daggers, but he found they had vanished, and his arms became heavy with weight, as did his feet. He heard the familiar jingle of rustling metal and realized he had been put in chains. ‘What is this?!’ He twisted and was wracked with pain. His ribs felt broken, his shoulders bruised, all muscles ached, he fell to his knees, now suddenly raw and put a hand to his face.
Above him there came a faint light, and he removed his hand, he could make out his shackles and blood upon his skin. ‘This is not real’ he repeated to himself. ‘It is not. It can’t be…I am locked up again…’ the light vanished again, somehow making him more aware of his pain. Then, he was suddenly pulled. “No, no!” he cried. He remembered what had been next, though he could not feel the people dragging him to it, he still proceeded.
He could no longer move. He’d been thrown to a floor, cold and of hard, bare stone. Then it happened, small delicate blades, needles, chiseling at his flesh, all at once as an incessant chanting echoed off the walls he could not see. It was clear many men were working even as Ja’tel wriggled and struggled and writhed in pain. He withheld screaming, keeping all his pain in his throat, then the cultists poured in the enchanted ink. It was like a flame, burning at the cuts, boiling with evil and a damned purpose. At this, Ja’tel let out a piercing cry, prolonged and magnificent. As his scream echoed off the walls the ink spread, and his wrists were afire with pain as he pulled at his restraints desperately. His chant that it hadn’t been real was ripped from his mind, replaced only with pain, his entire body consumed with what felt like acid under his skin. He continued to cry out, tears running down his face, until his chains slacked and the needles stopped.
The ink still burned, and his body was weak, it had only been a few moments, but his body spoke of months. ‘What is this?! It…it’s not real...’ he began to shiver. Then he was brought to his feet again, Ja’tel’s body refused to hold his weight, and he was carried though an eternity of halls and darkness. ‘I know this…’ he thought faintly. He closed his eyes, expecting next to be cast into the sands of the desert but when he was thrown, he landed into a new reality. The light was faint here, peaceful, and before him rest a key. He was upon the ground, and lifted himself, giving no concern to the key he ripped his headdress off of him violently and held his head as if keeping it together. He began to shiver again and wept, “Damn this place.” He said in anguish. “Damn this place.”

**Ja’tel ran with fervor after his target. As soon as he was able, he took aim at this mysterious person and threw the dagger in his right hand accordingly. He missed, and it bounced of the wall with a metal growl. He continued quickly and snatched up the dagger as he kept his opponent in his vision. ‘b*****d is fast!’ He thought furiously.
The pathways crossed and crossed again, in this confusing plane, with walls rising from nowhere having no purpose but to block the traveler. His anger turned to hate quickly, and like a fuel, it ignited the magic in his tattoos. They began to glow and sizzle as the magic washed over Ja’tel. He welcomed it with evil glee. The fool who stole his key took a wrong turn, and they doubled back to a path they had already taken. Ja’tel knew there was a wall down this way forcing the traveler to turn right or left, with left being the way they had already gone.
With a great leap, he drove his dagger into the stone wall with a violent thrust and leapt backwards, doing the same move again until he had made his way to the top of the wall, and ran upon it quickly to gain lost ground. His target was below, and slipped in his turn, allowing Ja’tel to jump close to him, in midair delivering a kick to his upper body. Now flung against the wall and only having time to stumble, Ja’tel moved with demonic speed, using his right dagger to slice at the stranger’s neck and spinning round to rest his left blade into his gut. He pulled the blade out and watched the man fall with glowing white eyes, their light a vivid blue. He knelt and retook his key, releasing the spell over him and returning to normal. He sheathed his daggers and breathed, also discovering another key on the thief.

**Ja’tel walked wearily on-wards, recovering from a near fatal wound he’d received what he guessed was days ago. He came to what seemed to be yet another chamber, but it lacked a ceiling, and foliage had covered the walls, a strange purple moss. He made his way to the other doorway and was about to enter when out of the corner of his eye he spotted a person who looked to be trapped.

When he stepped closer to investigate, he found that it had been the person who near killed him days before. “Hmph.” He said as he knelt beside them. They were pale, and near death, their weapon missing, their leg trapped under a large stone. At seeing Ja’tel, a look of despair came across their face. Before the wretch could beg for help and forgiveness, Ja’tel spoke in a somber tone, “I will not help you. But, I will offer something else. Do you want me to end your life quickly, or leave you here to wait for another, more generous soul?” They said nothing, looking terrified at their fate. Ja’tel waited a moment, and leaned forward, and gathered their key for himself. He rose and put his final key away, leaving the man to die or be rescued by another.

***
And The End...

At learning that he had wasted his time, and gone through mental anguish and killed for naught Ja’tel took a tired seat at the steps to the Chamber of Worlds. Hey cast his keys beside him angrily and closed his eyes. The ink burned again with hate. He took a moment to think, trying to let his immense anger pass as he knew it would do him no good to keep it. He cursed this place for being seemingly meaningless. He sat for maybe an hour, trying to meditate and be productive with his thoughts as his friend from home taught him to do. “I suppose, I will just have to make my life here.” He pondered. “New friends, new life, start over like I originally planned.” He gathered himself and stood, not planning to pick up the keys when a mysterious figure appeared. It spoke to him of promise.
“Senate?” He said dumbfounded. “I...suppose. If it is all you want, if it will get me home.” The secrecy of the person’s figure gave him doubts, but he had no choice. ‘Will these tests never end?’ He thought. Even in this world he had to assume a diplomatic responsibility against his will. He could almost laugh at the situation, had he not felt so worn.

The character continued to explain that an extreme sacrifice was necessary of him should he want to use the power of the room. He heaved a sigh and looked down. ‘What have I to sacrifice?’ He thought puzzled; clearly it could not be his life. His senses…he could not part with. But suddenly he was struck with a thought. Maybe he did have something he was willing to sacrifice. “My soul” He said nervously. “I can give that to go home. “ Was this a good choice? He felt it was all he could really do. It was the only thing that he could do without and still be useful in battle at home, should he return to where he was. It didn’t matter to him what his god would do. He only knew he was serious about getting to that World Chamber no matter the cost.