Young Writers Society

Mannaric had never even been close to the Maze. He had never walked past it, nor strolled by or flown over it. Though, since he was but a boy he imagined what it would be like to see it, to go inside it, overcome its puzzles, and emerge the sole victor.

No matter the outcome, he could never be victorious now. All of that planning, all of that scheming on part of Isperia, on his part, on part of the Maze... it would all come down to one of three outcomes for him.

The first one was him doing what he came here to do. Save his brother, Shade. But, there can be only one winner, so that will surely mean his own demise.

The second one was watching his brother die, and somehow managing to succeed in getting out. No matter how much glory he would bask in, he would have to go on with the shame of being too weak to save his little brother.

The third one... The third one was both him and his brothers perishing at the perils of the parlous Maze.

He ceased his train of thought as he arrived at the entrance.

He found himself standing outside a tall gate made entirely out of bone. There was not a single gap to gaze through the cracking ivory - the door was clearly well-made.

Mannaric placed one hand on his chin, and the other on the bone gate. He was filled with a feeling of warmth, the smell of a meadow, and the taste of fresh air. He squinted, even though there was no strong light shining into his eyes.

He heard a voice from behind him. "I can't wait to start."

He turned around, and saw a human in a dark blue, hooded cloak. The man wore a pendant on his neck, clearly magical.

"I can't wait to finish," Mannaric whispered.

"That's what I meant," the man said joyfully. "The sooner we start, the sooner we finish."

"You are too eager to die, human." The elf backed away from the gate. "Have we met before?"

"Yep," the man chuckled. "I didn't think you'd remember me."

"You tried to sell me an aquarium for three times its genuine price."

"I nearly succeeded." The man gazed at the gate. "The name's..."

"I don't need allies," Mannaric interrupted. "Goodbye."

The elf closed his eyes, a bright flash of light penetrated his eyelids.

When he opened them, he found himself standing in a grassy flatland. In front of him was a large, white marble structure, a number of avians patrolling the skies above it. The warm sun blinded him for a second, and he had to look down to the pleasant-smelling grass to regain his sight.

The ground vibrated.

"You have done well, Mannaric," a deep whisper echoed in the bright valley. "Though, at first I thought you would think of the Windmill of Gargle-Gargle."

"I did think of it," the elf said with a mild smile. "That's how I knew it was something else. Your intellect has proven itself to be quite... illusive."

The voice paused for a while. "You will find a Key Scribe inside the Pantheon."

Mannaric stepped forward towards the structure. "My brother passed here, didn't he?"

"Perhaps he did. Perhaps, he did not."

The elf walked between the marble pillars. "You know, you are but a being. I will kill you."

"Too many others have said that before."

"I am not like any other."

"They have said that as well."

Mannaric placed his hand on the doorknob of the small wooden gate that led inside. "You have not yet seen power like mine. I will destroy you, Maze, and forever free the people of Ravnica from your tyranny and vile extortion."

He entered through the gate, and walked into an open-roof courtyard. Flying around in large circles, not too far from the ground, were over three dozen avians of all kinds. They all carried weapons of their own: some maces, others swords, some even carried bows they would use to lay death from above.

In a corner lay a mutilated man in dismantled red armour, a tightened fist engraved on his metal plates. He was lying in a pool of his own dried blood, his stomach torn open, his intestines missing from his inside. He was dead.

In the centre stood a tall, wide-branched tree, its leaves casting a large shadow on the ground. Leaned against the tree, rested a young helioproct, his battered wings spread wide. Mannaric began to slowly walk towards the winged creature.

"There are things that are far beyond the reach of your understanding, elf. Ravnica needs the Maze. Without it, they would have no common enemy. They would destroy each other. What are the lives of twenty-one compared to the lives of thousands?"

"Why are you doing this? What have you to gain?"

"Entertainment."

Mannaric approached the sprawled creature. He appeared to be in some sort of a trance, his wounded body not twitching a muscle as he stared forward. He only occasionally blinked, to show that he was indeed alive and not a highly detailed sculpture.

"You," Mannaric said. "You're a Champion. Have you seen Shade? I'm talking to you! Have you seen..? Ah, forget it..."

The elf continued across the courtyard, avians flying closer and closer to the ground.

"You shall not..." one of them said, but was unable to finish before he flew away.

"Pass at your own peril," another, slower avian screamed from above.

Mannaric snickered and rolled his eyes. He extended his arms and waved his hands as if he were flying.

"How dare you mock our sacred race!?" One of the fliers screamed in anger. He descended at Mannaric, swinging his large flail.

The elf motioned with his hand, and the avian soared right past him. The bird-person flew at full speed and into the wall, bashing his skull against the hard marble. A red stain remained on the white wall, as the flier fell to the solid ground.

The rest of the avians froze in their flight, some nearly forgetting to keep themselves in the air. They watched as their fallen brother's brains slowly slid down the reddened marble, and dripped on top of his crushed body.

"Eat him!" a helioproct cried out.

The bird-people dove towards Mannaric, who ran under the shade and protection of the tree. An avian fired her bow, but a branch deflected the arrow's route. She flew to the side and landed on the ground, drawing another arrow to shoot at the provoking elf.

She released the shaft, but it did not fly into the flesh of Mannaric. Mannaric had extended his hand, and suspended the arrow mid-flight. He rotated his wrist, and along with it, the arrow, which turned around, pointing towards the shocked avian.

He forced the arrow to fly into her forehead at tremendous speed, and she made a few backflips as the force of the arrow pushed her several feet backwards.

Mannaric raised his hands up in the air, as the tree above him began to rustle. The hundreds of branches began to grow at an astounding rate. They sprouted upward, and toward the vicious fliers.

The fliers began to swing their weapons, attempting to slash at the branches, but there was simply too many of them. The branches made their way around the avians' legs, arms and bodies. The leaves tickled the avians as the growing plant slowly impaired their flight.

The branches grew around their throats, chests, and faces, and began to tighten. They crashed their ribcages, broke their necks, and cracked open their skulls. A lot of them fell in the dirt, but most of them remained to hang from the branches

Mannaric began to breathe heavily. He sat down next to the stunned helioproct, and leaned on the tree to get his rest. For a minute or two, he wondered what the young man had gone through in order to be as stupefied.

"You do not appear so powerful now," the Maze spoke in its deep whisper once more. "Do you, Mannaric?"

"I was holding back," the elf said as he panted. He collected his breath and rose to his feet. He walked to the end of the courtyard, and exited through a thick metal door which opened as soon as he approached it.

He entered a vast, empty hall, its ceiling at least a hundred feet tall. A vast staircase on the far end split in two, and led to the second floor. As he walked in, he heard the slamming-shut of the metal front door.

On either side of the hallway, as well as right where the staircase branched, stood proudly three large statues: one of a Leonin carrying an axe, another of a Loxodon Elephant wielding a flail, and a third of a Loxodon Rhino who had spiked stone gloves on his tightened fists.

The ghost of a human appeared in the middle of the room. His transparent body levitated over the decorative pattern on the floor, slowly drawing closer to Mannaric. The elf strode forward to meet the ghost.

"Where is the Key Scribe?" he asked curtly.

"All scribes are essential, young one," the ghost uttered with an echoing voice. "There is no single one who is 'key'."

"If you have time to waste, I do not. I shall only ask one more time: old one, where can I find a Key Scribe?"

"You are too vain, my friend," the ghost said as it circled around him. "I'm the one who cannot touch the ground, yet you seem to live miles into the clouds."

Mannaric scratched his head. "If I sat down for lunch with every single thing I encountered in this wretched Maze, I would… be very pleased indeed. However, I am here for a purpose. And that purpose is saving my brother from the wicked games of this merciless entity. You may either stand by my side and help me, stand by and watch, or stand in my way, and see what is left of your being torn away from existence."

The ghost ground its spectral teeth. "Let us see if your actions are as big as your mouth." It turned to the staircase and raised its glowing arms. "Statua, awaken! Awaken, Statui, and show this insolent intruder that our hospitality does not extend to disrespect!"

The joints of the tall statues began to crumble as their limbs began to move. The Leonin stretched its arms, the axe in its hands grazing the wall behind him. "At elf, my bruvs!" it said and roared a powerful yawn.

The Elephant began to swing its mighty flail. The Rhino started to rub its hands.

"Thank you," Mannaric said.

The ghost gave him a puzzled gaze. "Why are you thanking me?"

"The lion is one of the Scribes. I can sense on him the same magic that was used on the gate. Now, Leonin, give me the key so that I may find my brother."

"At," the lion said. Both Loxodon charged forward.

Mannaric extended his arms towards the attackers, and clenched all muscles in his body. The charging statues were slowed down, but they continued their advance as Mannaric was pushed back.

The ghost smirked. "They are not inanimate objects, elf."

The elf ground his teeth and lowered his arms. Just as the statues were about to reach him, he stretched his hands open. His boots lifted him from the ground, and raised him high in the air just as the elephant struck the ground with its flail. The floor shattered, long cracks coming out of the point of impact, spreading in all directions.

Mannaric struggled to retain his balance, as the ghost frowned and tightened its fists.

The elf flicked his hand towards the Rhino. "The Elephant is a traitor. Attack it."

The ghost laughed. "Your mind tricks will not work on them, either. They are not alive. You have insulted my house, young one. Do you understand why I cannot let you live?"

Mannaric's breathing accelerated along with the beating of his heart. He was tired, and tiring still. He was afraid of losing the key, afraid of losing his brother. He was afraid of losing his life.

There was no water inside the room; no water inside the statues or the ghost. There were no plants to lend him their aid. He was alone.

He slowly floated to the other end of the hall, landed on the ground and leaned on the wall. After catching his breath, he produced a deep sigh. He turned around and saw the approaching two statues, the Leonin observing from the staircase.

Mannaric clenched his teeth. Anger festered inside his bones. Rage boiled in his very soul. Wrath burned inside his mind. Fury blazed behind his eyes.

He pointed his tightened fist towards the attackers. Around his finger was a white ring with a white gemstone embedded inside it. The ring glowed, and the brightest of lights discharged from the gem, evaporating the ghost away from the room, blinding the statues as well as himself.

He extended his other hand, and centred all of his effort on the ring. He bent the beams, the very particles that made up the light, and made them travel into single point ahead of his fist. Out came a ray, not thicker than the gemstone of the ring.

The highly concentrated stream of light melted the railing of the staircase. Mannaric pointed the beam towards the confused statues, only grazing the Rhino's stomach. Both statues charged forward once more.

Mannaric held his ground.

He increased the intensity of the beam, and diagonally slashed the Elephant in two. He then brought back the ray, and cut off the Rhino's legs just as it was about to tackle him. The Rhino fell, and slid into the corner. But it did not give up.

It started crawling on its hands, still charging the elf with its long horn, though, considerably slower. Mannaric pointed the ring at the Rhino again, but an entire day's charge had run out, and the light emitted was no more.

He flew away again to avoid the Rhino's strike, and landed behind it. The Leonin started to climb down the steps, in order to help its still-remaining ally. Everything happened so quickly – surely it did not expect for a lone organic to defeat its protectors.

Mannaric reached for the destroyed Elephant, and the flail from its arms flew into the air. The elf squeezed his hands as if he were holding the weapon himself, and swung at the crawling Rhino. The flail plunged into the Rhino's back, rocks and dust crumbling off. He swung again, and formed a hole into the Rhino's stone-hard spine.

The statue collapsed, but Mannaric gave it one last bash on the head to make sure it was dead. Only the horn and the creature's mouth remained. The entire back of its head was completely annihilated.

Just like the head of the Rhino, the head of the flail was also destroyed.

Mannaric turned towards the Leonin, who hesitantly held its stone sword. It backed away a few steps up. "I can give you the key," it said in its deep voice. "Spare me. The Maze will reward you for it."

The elf ground his teeth. "Mercy? You want mercy?"

"How do you expect the Maze to grant you mercy if you are not capable of it yourself?"

"Reward!? MERCY!?" Mannaric shouted in furious rage. "I WANT NOTHING FROM THE MAZE!" He punched forward, and the Leonin flew up the stairs, crashing against a few of the steps on its way up. "I am not 'rewarded', I am not 'shown mercy'. I'm the one who rewards, I'm the one who takes away, and I'm the one who does not grant you mercy!"

He extended his hand, and the Leonin was pushed against the wall. It dropped its sword as Mannaric smashed it against the floor, again and again. Pieces of it missing, he pressed it against the wall once more.

"Foolish elf," the Leonin whispered with a weak, but still deep voice. "Used to people obeying your every command. Used to people kissing your boots and giving you everything you always wanted. The Maze always chooses well. Foolish elf. Your arrogance will be your downfall."

"Choose?" Mannaric grunted as he lifted the Leonin. "I chose myself."

The Leonin used its final strength to laugh. Its fangs showed as its smile confused the mage. "I was wrong. You are not a foolish elf. You are a stupid elf."

Mannaric clenched his jaw and raised his other hand. He pulled his hands together, before he quickly pushed them apart. The Leonin shattered to a thousand pieces, chunks of him flying both left and right. The only thing that remained was a large bone in the shape of a key, which levitated in front of the angry elf.

He slowly approached it, and a bright flash of light ensued as he grabbed it from the air. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he found himself standing back at the bone gate.

He walked up to it, and a keyhole appeared right in front of him. He placed the key in the keyhole, and turned the bone into its place.

A set of clicking sounds came from inside the curtain of bone. It slowly began to open as it slid to the side. The unsettling dragging sound gave Mannaric the most chilling of goosebumps.

Only the Maze knows what Trials await inside.

"Daryon?" Jock said. "Are you going in, or what?"

Grunt snickered. "He's backing out."

"He's not backing out," Cheers said and frowned. "He's not that big of a coward, are you Daryon?"

"And if I am?" Daryon asked as they approached the Ivory Gate. The gate was made of a single enormous white plate that would slide to the side when unlocked. All Daryon needed was the key.

"Do you know what you need to do?" the girl leaned on the gate.

"No." Daryon shrugged.

"Why are you telling him?" Jock yawned. "Let him figure it out for himself. Let him sweat with frustration."

Grunt yawned as well. "Yeah, let him flip over a table or something."

"The first trial is getting past this gate," Cheers continued. "To do so, you must find a key from someone called a Key Scribe. You will find them in the Pantheon of Taj-Nar, to where you will have to planeswalk…"

"How do you know any of this?" Daryon asked.

"Why are you talking to yourself?" a human walked up to Daryon. He was of a medium build, and he wore a set of steel armour all over his body: plates on his chest, grieves on his legs, bracers, shoulder guards, a chainmail hood and helmet… He was fully-equipped. Engraved in every individual piece of armour was a tightened fist that always pointed upward.

"Who's this loser?" Jock uttered.

Daryon awkwardly looked away from everyone. "I don't know…"

"Don't worry, my friend." The armoured man chuckled and patted the helioproct on the back. "I talk to myself all the time. Last week, I asked myself something, but I forgot what it was, so I got mad at myself for not paying attention. Still haven't forgiven me for that…"

"This one is crazy," Jock said to Daryon. "Even by your standards."

The man touched the gate with his hand. His entire body shivered for a moment. "The name's… Oh, wait! I remember now! I'd asked myself if I wanted a Twirl Yoo!"

"What's a Twirl Yoo?" Daryon asked.

"I don't know," the man replied. "What's it to-'rl you?" He laughed. "Seriously? It's a confectionary, my brother! A curled roll of chocolaty goodness, sweeter than sugar itself! Would you like some?" He opened his pouch and took out a small sack.

"No, thank you," the winged one said. "You'll need your food for the Maze."

The man curled his eyebrows. "Maze? Oh! The Maze! Yes. You're right. Thank you! Though, just to be clear: what maze are we talking about?"

"We're dead," Grunt grunted.

"Do you know how to planeswalk?" Daryon asked.

"Yeah, sure!" the man said. "Back when I was just a sergeant, I didn't have to, but then, I became Captain, and the only way I could get back for lunch before my men ate all the good stuff was by planeswalking!"

"Didn't they save any for you?

The captain laughed. "No, you see, we had this game: whoever got further back in the line got Captain Points." The man raised his head proudly. "It's a tradition in the Boros Legion that goes back for centuries, and since I'm Captain, I had to lead by example. Though, for some reason it was Sergeant Points until I got promoted…"

"He is an example, alright," Jock mocked. "An example for a moron."

Daryon sighed. "Let's just get started. We're supposed to find Key Scribes…"

"I know, my brother!" the man said. "You told me yesterday, remember?"

"…but... we only just met…" Grunt scratched his head. Jock rolled his eyes.

"You should have taken some of that chocolate, Daryon," Cheers sneered. "You're still a worse case than he is. You have people inside your head. That's pretty messed-up."

"Let's just go," the helioproct suggested. "Pantheon of Taj-Nar, I'll see you there."

"Wait! I need…" the man said, but Daryon closed his eyes, and when he opened them, he found himself standing in a vast grassy meadow, just outside the marble Pantheon.

A flash occurred next to Daryon, and the human appeared from behind the light. "What did you say before we left?" the helioproct asked.

"Oh, I just needed to scratch my nose." The man smiled. "Oh! I need to again!" he said as he scratched it.

"We should go inside."

"Lead the way." The man unsheathed his sword and scratched his nose with the sharp edge.

"No, you can lead the way," Daryon said.

"I mean," the man shrugged, "I would, but I can see that you want to, so…"

"No, no no. Please, be my guest. All the ambushes happen from behind, and I don't want to put you in danger."

"You're right," the man hesitantly said. "But I'm the one wearing armour. I can withstand an attack, so let me go where it's more dangerous."

"That's right, Daryon," Jock whispered loudly and sarcastically. "Don't put yourself in harm's way, especially not for an incompetent fool."

Daryon sighed and frowned. "How about we flip a coin for it?"

"I've got a better idea." The man pointed towards the entrance. Two tables rested on top of the marble steps, right at the edge, inches from tumbling down. "Let's flip a table for it! Whoever flips it the furthest, gets to walk at the back?"

"This bloke is insane!" Grunt exclaimed and laughed.

"I know!" Jock grinned. "I love it!"

"You could never outflip him," Cheers said as she eyed the man's strong body.

"Let's do it," Daryon said.

They climbed the steps, and each of them positioned himself behind a table. The man flexed his muscles and wiggled his body to prepare himself for the toss. "Hey, I never told you my name. Let's flip first, though, before we forget to."

They both reached under their respective tables, squatted, and jumped up as high as they could. The tables went flying, or at least, the human's table did. It landed a good twenty feet away from the steps, the four legs pointing upward.

Daryon's table tumbled down the steps, all its legs breaking before it reached the bottom.

"My, my," the man said. "How the tables have turned!" He chuckled and happily flailed his arms in the air.

"What a loser!" Jock and Grunt pointed and laughed at Daryon. Cheers simply shook her head.

The helioproct frowned. "Let's just go inside."

They walked up to a rubber door. The man prodded it with his sword, and chuckled as it bounced off the harder he thrust with it.

"Stop that!" a rusty voice came from the other side of the door. "Just who do you think you are? Coming here and poking my door… The nerve on you!"

"I'm sorry," the man said as he lost his smile and gained a worried look on his face. "I didn't know this door had an owner."

"Well, it does! And it's me. Now, what do you want?"

"We're looking for Mister Scribe," the human replied. "Mister Key Scribe."

"I think you mean a Key Scribe?" Daryon said. "It's not a mister."

"Who is that with you?" the rusty voice asked curiously. "You're right. It's not a mister. It's a Missus Key Scribe. Would you like to meet her?"

"Yes!" Daryon exclaimed. "I'd like that very much!"

"Well, you can't." the voice said. "She's a character in a story."

"So are we." The captain sighed with frustration. "Oh, come on! There must be some way we can talk to her…"

"Well, there is one way… but it's veeeery dangerous!"

"I don't know who the bigger fool is," Jock scowled. "These two, or you, Daryon, for standing here and listening to their foolishness. Nope, definitely you."

"Who said that!?" The voice from behind the rubber gate asked angrily. "Tell me who said that!"

"He can hear us?" Cheers asked, confused.

"Of course I can hear you! How many of you are there?"

"Just the two of us," the human replied. "You were telling us how we could talk to Missus Scribe."

"No," the rusty voice said. "I can hear at least three others, besides that ghost standing behind you."

Daryon turned around, but there was nothing there. Chills ran down his spine as he pressed himself with his back against the wall. "Can you just tell us?" he said with a squeamish voice.

"Right," the voice uttered. "Yes. So, stories are layered. If you're a character, you can never escape your story. You can never leave, no matter what. However, you can enter a story within your story."

The human scratched his helmet. "So, we head into her story, get the key, come back, and go through the Ivory Gate."

"Let's do it," Daryon uttered.

"Alright, here we go," the rusty voice said. "You'll be the characters, and I'll be your Narrator. Are you ready?"

"Yes," all of them said at the same time.

* * *

Good.

Once upon a flipped timetable, there lived a boy. The boy always liked to wonder with his mind: sometimes in the clouds, sometimes in the forest, sometimes in the Maze…

The boy had a friend, and one day, they were playing outside, when…

"Who's your friend, Dairyon?" Jock said, a boy and a girl at his side. "Now, give me all your milk money."

"Hah!" Grunt, the boy, laughed. "You're the coolest, Jock!"

Daryon hesitantly gave Jock all of his money, who then turned to Daryon's friend.

"And you!" the bully said. "Whatever your name is. Give me all of your money!"

The boy wanted to comply, but suddenly, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, unexpectedly, a horse jumped on top of the boy, trampling him, and breaking all bones in his body, except for the boy's clavicle.

Jock and his team ran away, as the wild horse circled around Daryon and his broken friend.

"Take my clavicle," the boy said as he offered it with his hand. "Take it to Doctor Key Scribe. She will be able to save me."

Daryon grabbed the bone, and started running towards Doctor Scribe's house, who was off-duty for the day. He knocked on her white door, and she opened it, immediately recognizing him.

"Oh, Daryon!" she exclaimed and stepped aside. "Come right in! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

They entered inside, but for some reason, Daryon could not make out a single detain of the room. All he could see was the woman he sought.

"Doctor Scribe," the boy said, panting. "I need you to help me fix my friend! We were being bullied, and this huge animal attacked him, and broke his bones, and…"

"Slow down, boy," the woman said and patted his shoulder. "Do you have one of his bones with you?"

"I do!" Daryon shouted excitedly and presented the clavicle to the doctor.

"Hmm," the doctor said. "Let's see… Ah, yes! Doctor Scribe always gets a diagnosis! Unfortunately, your friend cannot be saved. Not in this world. However, you may save him in the world that you come from."

"What do you mean," Daryon said, confused and with knitted brows. "I come from over here."

"You don't understand, little one," Key said. "My diagnosis spell is never wrong. You don't realize it, but both you and your friend are higher beings, and come from a different world that is not our own. You came here for a purpose, to ask me where you can find something. A key to a gate, as my magic tells me."

"A key to a gate?" Daryon asked.

"Yes," the doctor replied. "As soon as I tell you where you can find this key, you will return to your own world, and the story will have been completed. My purpose is to tell you, yours is to discover. Unfortunately, little one, I don't know how to help you. I know nothing of your world, let alone how to find a key."

"…I just want to help my friend," the boy scratched his head. "You're confusing me."

"That's alright, little one," Key smiled. "It can get confusing sometimes. But if it wasn't confusing, it wouldn't have been interesting, now would it?"

"I always liked things simpler," Daryon lowered his head.

"That's because you are simple!" Jock shouted from outside a window.

"Doctor Scribe," Daryon said. "I just need to get help for my friend."

"Wait!" the doctor exclaimed. "What about the key?"

"Fine!" the boy said, irritated. "Where is it, then?"

"Hmm, so, I don't really know, but…"

"Where do you keep your key?" The boy interrupted.

"Well, under my doormat, but…"

* * *

Daryon looked down in front of the rubber gate. He lifted a small doormat, and saw a small key. He picked it up, and everyone leaned in to take a look.

"The human should have it," the rusty voice said. "He is the one who got his bones broken."

"But I'm the one who did everything else!" Daryon cried out. "I should be the one to take it!"

"It's the will of the Maze," the voice explained. "I don't make the rules, I just follow them."

"Don't worry, my friend!" the human smiled and patted the helioproct on his back. "I'll help you look for your own key."

"You will?" Daryon asked, bewildered.

"Of course!" The man answered. "You'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"

"This one is even dumber than Grunt," Jock laughed. "But he's alright."

"Of… course I would!" Daryon awkwardly glanced at the ground.

"Great!" the man exclaimed. "Let's go! Lead the way."

Daryon leaned on the rubber door with his face. "May pass through your door?"

"Of course you may!" the voice said. "All you have to do is ask! But beware, for it is full of danger!"

The rubber door bounced open, and the group entered a grassy flatland with a single tree in the middle. The door closed shut behind them.

"Danger…" Daryon scratched his head as he walked ahead of the human. "Why did you say it was dangerous to go inside the story?"

"Because I'm a huge fan of Doctor Scribe," the voice rang in their ears. "If I cast the spell hard enough, I would have gone in with you, and I never would have wanted to leave."

"Say, where are you, friend?" the human asked.

"Uhm… er… look at the time! Gotta go!"

"Wait!" the human said. "You didn't even tell us your name…"

"You didn't even tell us yours," Daryon said as they walked towards the tree.

"Oh! Right. My name is…" the human couldn't finish as an arrow flew into his back. The arrow pierced his armour, and lodged itself into his back. The man bent his knee and fell forward.

Over thirty flying creatures soared in from behind them, some firing arrows that stabbed the grassy dirt.

Daryon expanded his wings and wrapped himself around them. They hardened into a cone-shaped, better-than-steel shield, as the avians fired more of their arrows towards them. Daryon screamed as the arrows lodged themselves into his wings. After all, they were body parts of his. And the worst part was that the real pain would come when he opened them up again.

An avian dove downward and swung at Daryon with his mace, making a dent in his feathers. Daryon began to cry as the human rose to his feet.

"Come at me!" he yelled with the arrow still in his back. He unsheathed his sword.

Two avians dove in, and tackled the human before he could swing his sword. They liften him in the air with them, and dropped him from a considerable height.

His armour dismantled and flew in all directions as he struck the ground. Daryon could hear all of his bones break, along with the clamouring of the metal plates. The man tried to move, but he could only twitch and groan.

One by one, he avians descended from their flight, and walked up to the lying human. They reached for his stomach, and with their bare hands they clawed out a peace of hi before flying away.

The man moaned in agony as his organism was slowly taken apart before his very eyes and his organs were slowly taken into the sky. After harvesting one piece of him each, the fliers began to eat the raw flesh.

"For honour and structure," he whispered.

Though in absolute pain, the man was still alive to watch himself get eaten.

"There is still time to save him, Daryon," Jock curled up beside him under his wings. "But are you ready to make the Ultimate Sacrifice?"

"Do it, Daryon," Cheers whispered in his ear. "Do it, and atone."

Daryon unhardened his wings and painfully ran towards the tree. He sat down against the tree, and leaned back to catch his breath.

The entire world turned dark. All that was left was him, Jock, Grunt and Cheers.

"You make me sick, you piece of…" Jock angrily punched through the air.

"This was your chance, Daryon," Cheers said. "Now, we will never leave your head. We will haunt you until your dying breath, and even in death, we will never leave you alone. We will forever be there to remind you of how weak you are in both body and spirit. We will be there every time you smile, so that we take that away from you. Nothing will ever taste good. Nothing will ever smell good. Every tickle will be a stab. And every stab will be thrice the pain he felt when he died."

"You…" Jock said with disgust on his face. "You're no Champion. Have you seen your shade? Hey!" He snapped his fingers as Daryon tried to look away. "I'm talking to you! Have you seen it!? We will never forget this, Daryon. We will never forget."

"I never told you my name," the Boros human said as he walked up to them.

"Human!" Daryon happily shouted out. "You're alive!"

"Well, no…" The human frowned. "But that's alright."

"It is?" Grunt asked.

"I mean, it's not like we can turn it back now, is it?" he smiled.

"So, what should we call you, human?" Jock patted him on the back.

"Hmm," the human placed his hand on his chin. "I never told you my name, so Nameless will do."

"Alright, Name. Care to join us while we eat him up?" Jock said and pointed at Daryon.

"Not hungry, thank you very much. But I could use a hug. Can I hug you, Daryon?"

"…Why?" Daryon asked.

Cheers rolled her eyes. "Just hug the man."

The human sat next to the sprawled helioproct and squeezed him in an embrace.

"Wow," Daryon said as he was being held. "That's a tight hug."

Name smiled. "I was holding back, as well."

"Yes, you are a strong one," Daryon chuckled as Cheers gave him a stern look for him doing so.

"Now that everyone's happy," Name said. "Let's grab my key and go to the next Trial."

Grunt yawned. "Sounds good to me."

The environment slowly regained its colour. Daryon stood up.

All the avians had somehow been killed. It was as if an army had passed and slain them all without a single casualty. The archer who had shot Name lay in the dirt with one of her own arrows lodged into her forehead. The ground had been smeared with dead avians, but most of them hanged from the tree, branches wrapped around their necks, limbs and torsos.

"Whoever passed through here was not in danger," Cheers said. "They killed everyone just to prove that they could."

"Why are you such a weakling, Daryon?" Jock sighed. "You even look feeble."

"The key," Name said. "It's right there." He pointed at his mutilated body. The key was in his hand.

Daryon wiggled the key out of the human's hand, and planeswalked back to the Ivory Gate. A tiny keyhole appeared as he approached it, and he placed the key inside.

After he turned the key, the gate began to slide open.

"I can't wait," Grunt whispered.

Frost stood in front of a citadel. How a citadel could even fit inside a maze astounded Frost. It was especially astounding after walking through endless dark corridors, slaughtering feral Leonin and any other enemy that chose to get in Frost's way. Frost did admit to the fact that the monsters had kept him alert and on his toes, but he hated it nonetheless. In the corner of his eye, Frost caught the walls beginning to writhe.

The Maze is back

"I know."

a moment later the maze's malevolent presence entered Frost's mind.

"Someday i would wish to break this iron cage you've formed around your thoughts. The idea of a contest intrigues me. I haven't broken a mind this strong since....."

Ignoring the Maze's rambling, Frost began walking towards the citadel.

"What's the next trial."

The Maze chuckled.

"Straight to the point again. I see. Now, to complete the next trial you must planeswalk to either the Command Tower or the Reliquary Tower, your choice, and find one of the twenty missing pages of the Black Book of Azz't. Once you do that, return to me and you may pass through the citadel.''

Frost rolled his eyes, the Maze was getting predictable. But that was besides the point. Frost didn't really know how he'd planeswalked in the first place. Closing his eyes, he began to repeat his mantra and envisioning what he thought would be the Command Tower. Clearing his thoughts, Frost saw the passage to the tower. It appeared in his minds eye just as he'd seen it before, but when he tried to cross over to the realm, he couldn't enter. Trying to maintain his focus, Frost tried again. Each time he was repelled from the entrance. Desperation gave way to frustration and Frost willed himself, with all his might to pass through to the other realm. A ripping sound rang across the citadel and a portal opened in the air. Panting heavily, Frost walked towards the portal, but was repelled once again. Gritting his teeth, he slowly calmed himself and, with a clear mind and a willing heart, walked through the portal. Behind him, the Maze's low chuckle echoed softly as the walls slowly solidified.

Frost opened his eyes, then immediately shut them. A blizzard whipped all around him. Grunting, Frost stood.

oh come on Frost. You went through more than this to get me. This is child's play

Frost drew his cape around him and pulled up his hood. Ahead of him was pure white, around him were large canyon walls completely iced over. With the wind whipping all around him, Frost began to walk towards the silhouette of a looming tower in the distance.

Time seemed to meld together with the whipping wind and the ice. Soon enough, Frost found himself at the base of a plateau stretching up into the clouds. Above he could barely make out the shadow of the Command Tower.

That wasn't so hard. Now we just need to climb a plateau and find a fabled paper. They probably have it in a shiny gold frame. It'll be easy, now lets go.

A roar sounded behind them. Two figures, about fifteen feet tall and covered in ice, stepped into the clearing. In each monstrous hand they held ten foot halberds made of cold iron ice that shone with an unearthly glow.

''Who arms a Frost Giant?'' was all Frost could say.

Do we kill the poor sods?

''I have a better idea.''

With that he sheathed Lavyrin and enabled bloodfang. The giants struck, their attacks slow but deadly. Frost, with his increased speed, angled himself just enough so the blow would only knock him unconscious. The world went black as his plan began to take form.

-------------------------------------------------

Frost. Frost. Eyes up Frost. We're in the presence of a God.

Despite his pounding head, Frost stayed alert as he snapped up to meet the embroidered lion in the throne of ice.

''Greetings traveler, I am Thoramir, king of the White Seas and God of War to the Ice Giants. What brings you, trespasser, to my...humble abode.''

Frost took a second to think. He knew when the Ice Giants had appeared, they'd been armed by someone in the tower, but he didn't expect it to be a crafty leonin.

The lions obviously faking. He may be a God of War, but he isn't as good as us. I say we take him down. It'll put us at an advantage over the giants that serve him.

Frost considered the option, then, in a small, hushed voice.

''The Maze hasn't prohibited slaughter yet. We might as well.''

Turning to the leonin, Frost spoke in a loud clear voice.

''I, Frost, King of the dungeons of Yu'lok'' Lavyrin chuckled, ''formally challenge you for the right of kingship over these..'' at this he drew his sword and waved it around, indicating the giants, '' creatures you call Frost Giants.'' In a sloppy display of skill, Frost whipped his sword around in an uneven pattern, then dropped it on the floor with a loud clang. As he bent and picked Lavyrin up, he made it only slightly evident that he was scared by the quickness of his breath and the small shaking in his knees. The leonin laughed.

''You wish to fight? Very well then. It is your funeral. But I shall not end your life to soon. At mid day tomorrow, we shall meet in the king's arena and fight to the death. I've heard Yu'lok holds stores brimming with gold, it'll be a shame to keep it all down there without spending it.''

Frost grinned.

''Mid day it is king. Allow me to stay, as part of your generosity, inside the castle? I would love to admire all the riches you possess.''

the leonin smirked.

''of course. You may stay wherever you'd like.''

with that Frost was escorted out of the room.

---------------------------------------------

Frost roamed the long corridors. He'd been freed from the Frost Giants on the vow that he would return to his rooms immediately. Of course that had not been the case. On each side of him lay rooms and rooms full of weapons, armor and shields. The tower was indeed fit for a god of war.

Why didn't you kill him right then and their? And why in all Ravnica did you drop me on the floor like a blithering idiot??

''All part of the plan Lavyrin. He won't see the light of mid day, and by the time the giants realize our deception, we'll be long gone. And so will the page.''

Lavyrin made a humming sound as it realized Frost's plan. At the end of the corridor, Frost saw a giant turning the corner. He quickly dodged into a room and stood to the side of the doorway, listening for the giant's footsteps. When it was almost upon his room, Frost leaped out of the room, placed a hand over the giant's mouth, cut both of its ankles, and dragged it into the room, shutting the door behind him.

''Silence or death giant, your choice.''

Frost released his hand from the giant's mouth. It stayed silent, eyes tearing up from the pain.

''Good, now. Do you know of the Black Book of Azz't?''

The giant nodded, still silent.

''Good, good. Now, do your ankles hurt?''

the giant nodded vigorously.

''would you like me to heal you?''

another nod.

''Okay, but in return, you must tell me where the pages are.''

at this, Frost drew Lavyrin and held it to the giant's neck.

''Silently.''

in a low whisper, the giant mumbled.

''top floor, last room to the right. That's master's treasure room.''

Frost nodded, then produced a healing salve from the folds of his cape and applied it to the cuts in the giants ankles. As soon as it was fully recovered though, the giant swiped at Frost, hoping to catch him off guard. He was sorely mistaken. Frost spun under the arm and threw a dagger from his sleeve. The dagger hit its target spot on in the neck, causing the giant to double over, clutching its neck. Frost leapt into the air and dug Lavyrin into the top of the giants head, killing it instantly.

Lavyrin made a clicking sound as Frost sheathed it and retrieved the knife from the dead giants head. He then took out a healing salve and applied it to the giants neck and head. Both the wounds healed up, leaving no trace of an assassination.

we have to get this page and get out before they find this body.

''Nonsense. If they find the body I'll kill their king. Besides, theirs no way they can prove its me. My plan won't fail this time.''

with that, he set off for the page.

rushing up the winding staircase, Frost encountered no one except porters, smaller Frost Giants a few feet taller than Frost himself, scurrying up and down the staircase, arms full with either scrolls or swords. Finally, Frost reached the top floor, It was darker than the others, and only contained one corridor, however, it was lined with enormous embroidered doors.

he said last room to the right. Looks like another long walk.

Frost grunted, as he hurried towards his goal. The corridor was empty, and after a while, Frost found the door he was looking for. Two golden chains encompassed the steel door, and a lock about the size of Frosts head hung suspended in the center of it.

Frost smiled. He loved it when obstacles were easy. From a small lock box covered in a magical blue shield, Frost retrieved his skeleton key. His most prized possession. Frost put the key into the lock and then stood back as the key turned in a series of complex patterns, then clicked and popped out as the door swung open. Putting his skeleton key back, Frost drew Lavyrin and entered the room. As soon as he stepped in, torches that lined the walls flared to life, casting a glowing light around the room. Frost walked through lines and lines of assorted relics. Gold coins lined the floor, almost covering the luxurious velvet rug that spread throughout the room. After a few minutes of walking through the treasure room, Frost found a paper encased in a glass box. Their was writing on it, but as Frost looked closer, the writing changed, writhed, as if alive. It reminded him of the way the Maze writhed, but Frost dismissed the thought. He would worry about abstract connections later, now he needed to execute the last part of his plan.
------------------------------------

The God of War stood in the throne room, arms crossed, tail flicking from side to side, rustling the purple cape that draped down to the floor.

''So, the King of Yu'lok kills one of my servants and steals from my trophy room? You disgust me, I think I'll end your life right now. Prepare yourself fool king.''

Frost fixed a stony, uncaring expression on his face. He'd had enough of the leonin's petty threats. Drawing Lavyrin, Frost approached the leonin king. Smiling, the King drew his sword, a silver sword embroidered with an intricate golden band that stretched down the length of the blade and onto the brown hilt. Frost kept walking, moving towards the king in a slow, but steady pace. The leonin took a stance and Frost stopped, blade at his side, calculating the holes in his defense. The king began circling Frost, sword at the ready. Frost stayed where he was, the leonin king struck, but before he was even halfway through his sword swing, Lavyrin was around his neck, and Frost was whispering in his ear.

''You may be the God of War, the rain of fire, the bringer of night, but I, dear king, I am Death. And no God will escape my shadow.''

The king fell, dead, his sword fell with him, but before it could hit the ground, Frost caught it. Frost eyed the sword, then sliced off the head of the leonin king with it and used its hair to tie it onto his belt. Before he left, he gave the Frost Giants a stare that made their blood run cold.
----------------------------------------------------

''Well well well, you got done with that one fairly quickly. It seems you've bounced back from your blunder in the dungeons, its a shame you couldn't bring me a souvenir.''

The Maze chuckled as Frost looked down, realizing the Leonin King's head was nowhere to be found. Lavyrin gave a chuckle and the Maze's rumbling laugh echoed through the citadel.

'' Oh well, nevertheless, you've passed. You may continue onto the next trial.''

Frost looked past the citadel doors and into the sparkling marble room beyond. Maybe one day before, he would have admired the pristine floor and the luxurious spire's rising to the roof, but that man was no longer. Their was only a husk of survival, and a husk could only survive for so long.

Asphyxius "Nero" Poisonim|Golgari Swarm|Entrance to The Maze

Nero was glad for the company.

He swiveled his eight eyes across the room, scanning every one of his opponents, sizing them up, weighing their apparent strengths.

Anything to keep his eyes off of the massive horror that loomed above them all.

He shouldered his pack uneasily, feeling with his extra pair of arms to check his luggage.

There was his bow, the small grouping of daggers he kept, his cloak, smoke bombs, vials of deadly poison, a few small mirrors...

Nero shook his head, disgusted with himself.

This was his fourth time he had checked it.

It is unfathomably important to keep a little of that inner fool with you Nero, even until death.

His mentor's word's echoed through his head and he sighed, letting his head sag.

"I will not fail. After all, none of these fools seem quite so foolish as I."

The mantra failed to bring it's usual spark of enthusiasm, leaving Nero as nervous as ever.

He absentmindedly took out his juggling balls, tossing the colorful toys up into the air, trying to distract himself from the sweat trickling down his spine.

Slowly, the room got darker, and Nero's vision began to blur.

Still he juggled, blocking out all distractions like only a master could.

Slowly, all the other fools disappeared, leaving only Nero and the door.

Still he juggled, clinging futilely to the happy blur of color like only a fool could.

Asphyxius Poisonim...

Nero kept juggling, tears dripping from his eyes.

Or should I call you...

It was happening to him. The Maze hadn't awoken in thousands of years yet now that it had, they'd chosen him. Him of all people. Why? It was unfair in every angle. Why not let some other poor soul die?

Nero.

The balls fell out of the air like bricks, scattering across the floor. Nero hurried to collect them, yet even as he did, his eyes caught the doorway.

And his body froze.

Yes. You have entered my domain...

The Maze spoke with a slow, ponderous boom, conferring without meaning to the millennia it had spent on Ravnica, all the things it had seen, the memories.

And there fore under my control.

All the years of unrelenting sorrow, the sad longing for something more out of it's chosen city.

You will hear me Nero.

And the time spent watching blood spill like water across the land filled with greed and corruption. All reflected in the one monolithic door.

You will hear me.

Nero slowly stood from his crouched position, letting the green and red balls stay on the featureless ground. His senses were sharpened, his eyes and ears turned only to the great door. Seeing, the intricate design, hearing the powerful voice.

Good. Good...

Nero stared at the door, mesmerized by it's ever shifting patterns of death and madness.

Nero you have ancient blood in you...

As ancient as the maze itself. On a vague level he knew.

You are Planeswalker, strider of the past, present, and future.

Nero nodded, a grin slowly spreading across his face, making his mandibles chitter excitedly.

Your task is simple. As Planeswalker, you must pass through this door. No more no less.

He walked forwards, eyes still trained on the swirling insanity ahead. Ears still perked, listening for the magnanimous voice.

Do so, and I will instruct you on your next task...

Nero slowed, only feet away from the door.

You may begin.

Then the voice was gone, leaving Nero's mind, allowing it to be filled with the seething insanity of the door.

He unslung his bow, three arrows already knocked, and fired into the door.

"I understand Maze!"

His voice overlapped with the clicking of his mandibles, turning the statement into an eerie chant.

"I am Planeswalker! I am here in this spot for a reason!"

More arrows thudded into the door, splitting the previous with pinpoint accuracy. So fast was his draw that the tiny points of destruction fell like hail into the door.

"This door is death. I am death. The Golgari Swarm is death."

His quiver ran dry. Without a moments hesitation, Nero unsheathed all six of his knives, filling his hands with the weapons.

"I am here to transcend you Maze! I am here to master what you fear!"

He leapt towards the door, moving with inhuman speed, spinning with a deadly grace.

"I am here to truly be myself!"

His first strike fell on the door and...

Nero's knife bit into black rock and he stopped, the madness leaving him.

All around him was pitch black stone. There was no light, which was fine for Nero, he could see in the dark, but more than that, dark wisps of shadow drifted around him, around everything as if with a conscience.

As if trying to drown everything in pure utter evil.

Nero desperately backpedaled, checking to see if he had arrows in his quiver.

To his surprise, and immediate relief, Dartwing feathers poked up to meet his seeking palm.

Flowing into a defensive stance, Nero's eye's went to work, checking every corner and crevice for any sort of movement.

Nothing.

The terrified tension in him slowly abated, and Nero lowered his knives ever so slightly.

Nero was alone again. No demonic power to keep him distracted from his own sad thoughts.

Or so he thought.

Well done...

He jumped, his knives raising once again.

That was quite...interesting. Different from so many of the others...

Nero sighed, accepting the voice.

Your task now. An easier one without a doubt...

He waited, although tension slowly grew in him; waiting was taking it's toll.

You must find a Key Scribe. The Key Scribe. Assuming you know what that is...\

Nero didn't dare speak. Fearing so much as to speak in the presence of the Maze.

I wish you luck Nero. You will need it.

With that, the voice faded, and now, truly, Nero was alone.

Shivering, he walked forwards, not knowing, nor registering the words of the Maze.

He continued onwards, always downwards, through the bowels of the earth. Slowly, the tunnels widened, revealing small, yet unmistakably unnatural holes in the wall.

And the eyes lurking in the shadows.

Nero walked onwards, always downwards, unseeing and unknowing of the eyes above him.

Staring at him with the obsessive need and want of pure malevolence.

Soon, Nero entered a coliseum. The walls fell away, as did the floor and the ceiling. and he found himself swaying blankly at the edge of a precipice overlooking the massive structure below. In the middle of the arena, a light, the only light for miles around, glowed softly.

And Nero watched it, and fell forwards right off the cliff.

He grabbed the rocky surface as it whizzed by, his hands suddenly adhesive, sticking to the wall, finding crevices that no human could hope to find. Nero slowed his fall, four hands blurring over the cliff face, the other four holding his bow, already knocking more arrows.

Then he stopped, halfway down, and waited, half his eyes searching above him, the other below, glaring down at the empty coliseum.

And he saw the demons. He saw their empty soulless eyes. Yet so in a trance was Nero, he met their gazes with a blank stare.

Nero dropped the rest of the way, turned in the air, and fired off a hail of arrows, all eight of his arms flashing from his quiver to the bow so fast, that the first ten fell in seconds.

He hit the ground. Four arms out to stop absorb his fall.

Still firing.

The demons made themselves visible, their bodies contorting spastically, mouths opening so wide they seemed to suck out Nero's very soul.

If he still had one. For Nero could not tell.

They came out of the walls, and the walls fell, for in this dungeon hate was the only foundation.

Nero backpedaled smoothly, climbing the steps, passing through the arch, one of so many in the coliseum, and entering the light of the Key Scribe.

At the arches, the demonic horde stopped. Through the evil trance, a thought wormed it's way into Nero's consciousness, vague and confused.

How could so many hearts of darkness live here, their heart being such a golden glow?

And indeed the demons halted, hissing in anger as the light blinded them, drove them back.

Nero turned away to behold the Key Scribe. Yet it was not glorious. It held no beauty against the cold black walls of the coliseum. The darkness infected the artifact, making it as ugly as it's surroundings.

it's holder however, was of flesh and bone. Thus, he was darkness, a true threat to Nero's trance.

He. No, It came out of the shadows cast in gold. It's body did not writhe against the light, it's power was not diminished by the goodness.

It roared, a long roar at Nero, knowing why he was here. After all, there was only one thing done in coliseums.

Nero struck first, jumping back, firing arrows at the beast. It simply raised it's arm, stopping the deadly hail. Nero stopped. thinking coldly, rationally.

The battle would not be won by force.

The beast sprung forwards with speed barely matched by Nero. However, the spider's web had just begun. Nero ducked left, dropping a poison vial.

The monster turned, swiping a hand towards it's opponent.

It's strike missed both Nero and the vial. However, It's next step crushed the latter.

Nero jumped upwards, clinging to a column of the arena. Staying just out of It's range.

Suddenly, It's foot stopped, paralyzed and unable to move.

It bellowed in anger and turned back to Nero. It's gaze was met with smoke.

Nero was gone.

Then smoke erupted behind It. Then to It's left and it's right.

There was only smoke. Yet also light. It turned to find the Key, the source's light suddenly bounding towards It. In anger, It turned away from the light, swiping it's hand through the smoke yet only finding a mirror.

Then, as It looked, it found arrows, daggers slicing through the smoke and striking it's back.

They hurt, but now It knew where it's prey was.

In one step, It closed the distance between It and the opposite column, striking out with it's hand.

But it only found another mirror.

It lifted it's head and roared, wrath suffusing it's very blood.

Yet it felt something else to.

Light suddenly bounced off the nearest mirror. striking It's eyes.

It did not roar. It found It could not.

Nero watched from above, concealed in the darkness. The poison was taking effect, stimulated by adrenaline, aggravation, the quickening of the blood.

The smoke and mirrors were only the means of doing just that.

It fell, It's body boiling. It knew it had been beaten, It did not have the strength to commit one last act of defiance.

It dies in utter submission.

Finally, the smoke cleared, revealing Nero, creeping downwards from the roof to capture his prize.

He reached the floor, then walked up to the golden Key. Yet, his demeanor did not change, nor did the trance break.

Nero smothered the Key in darkness, and all around him, the demon's eyes came to life once more if only to prove one thing.

There was no such thing as pure gold.

Shade/Guildless/Snow Sector

Shade got up and yawned, stretching his arms before standing. Then he rubbed his eyes and looked around, and realized that, unhappily, he was still in the same room that he had been when he had gone to sleep a while earlier. When he had gone through the glowing doorway, he had landed up where he was now. At first he had been amazed at the room, but after a while of nothing happening, he had decided to just sleep.

The entire room around him was made of glass, that glowed with a golden light. In the middle of the room was a stone pedestal, with strange runes, no doubt magical, engraved on it. Shade walked up to the stone pedestal and put his hand on it. And nothing happened. So he sat down once again to wait.

Just as he sat down, all of a sudden, he felt an intrusion into his mind. It was very powerful, but still he fought it, with what minor psychic powers he had. But it was to no avail as the much stronger presence broke through that and into his mind.
Greetings, Shade said the voice that Shade now knew to be the maze.

You gave me a fright!replied Shade I thought that someone was trying to take control of my mind! Wait...you're not going to, are you? Shade shivered as he remembered how poor Tallius Terek had been taken over by the maze.

The maze laughed and replied No, little one. Though it would be incredibly easy, I want your mind to be in a stable state for the next trial. You won't survive otherwise.

Alright then. replied Shade. What is the next trial?

You must travel to either the the Command Tower or the Reliquary-yourchoice-and bring back one of the twenty missing pages of the Black Book of Azz't. Once you do you must bring it back here and place it on the pedestal. Then I will open the doorway to the next trial for you.

Then the voice of the Maze faded and Shade felt its presence recede from his mind. Shade sighed in relief, happy to have his head t himself again. Although Zheng had given him orders telepathically many times before, Shade still found it uncomfortable to have another presence in his mind.

Well, time to planeswalk. he thought, focusing on the name 'Reliquary'. And he focused his spirit and passed once more into the space in between dimensions. He could see again the glowing doorways of different dimensions, and of course one glowed brighter than the others, though a different one than before. Shade knew that that doorway led to the Reliquary.

Shade's spirit self rushed at the doorway, preparing to tear through the thin membrane hat separated his dimension and the other one, like he had easily passed through to get to the Citadel

To his surprise, however, instead of passing through, he rebounded off! Shade touched his hand (well, his hand in spirit form) to the boundary and found that, instead of a thin membrane, this boundary was harder, more like rubber.

Shade tried to get through a few more times, but to no avail. Is this some trick of the Maze? he thought, but he felt that it was not. Then Shade calmed down and thought, using the exercises that Zeren had taught him. The answer came to him quickly. What do you need to break down a stronger barrier? Greater power.

Shade knew how to get more power, though it would be dangerous. He drew more of his spirit from his body, leaving only a thin link between them. He knew that if this attempt went wrong, he could lose connection with his body and forever become a wandering ghost...but he knew he had no other option.

He then gathered his now more powerful spirit and charged at the gateway, hoping to make it past. And to his relief, he finally tore through. With a jolt, his spirit rejoined his body and Shade found himself in front of a huge tower. It was round, as best he could tell, and made of white and beige stone. Many stained windows, all along the building, let sunlight stream down into the structure. In front of him was a large wooden door, which was open.

Shade looked around him and realized he was on an island, surrounded by mist. Shade continued to look around him in wonder as he strode through the double doors. Once through, shade himself in a huge entrance hall made of stone, with statues lining the sides, as well as pedestals on which were mounted what he was sure were magical artifacts. As he was walking down the entrance hall, a particularly beautiful staff caught his eye.

It was made of gold, with a ruby at the top, and Shade (being the thief that he was) found it irresistible. He stepped eagerly towards it, but the moment he touched it, he heard a grinding noise. He looked down just in time to see the section of floor he was standing on slide away from underneath his feet. Shade prayed to every god he had ever heard off as he fell down on to the worst slide he would ever ride.

Shade continued to slide down for several minutes, darkness all around him as he screamed like a banshee. Finally, after a hectic, terrifying ride, the slide ended and he slid out at high speed, colliding violently with a large pile of hay.

He heard a strange sounding language being spoken as he got up, spitting out hay. He could see that he was in an underground cavern, probably under the sea. it was made of earth and soil, and several passages led out of it from a number of directions. Unfortunately, he saw that he was surrounded by a number of people in dark clothing, carrying staffs (which were no doubt magical) who blocked every escape route. And right beside him was someone he had thought he would never see again.

"Sibylla Rathbone!' exclaimed Shade in surprise.

"Callis?" said Sybilla, looking astounded that he was there.

Shade had often frequented Sybilla's bar in Nivix under the fake identity of Callis, the guildless mercenary. In truth, though, he actually came there to overhear important Izzet information and sell it to the highest bidder.

"So...you got chosen to be one of Izzet's champions? I guess it's no surprise given your talents."

Sibylla nodded and replied, "On the other hand, it is a surprise seeing you here. I never thought the Maze would chose you."

"Thank you." muttered Shade sarcastically. "So...how did you get here?"

"Same way you did I suspect." she replied. "Booby trapped trinket. Long, terrifying slide. I landed up here a few minutes ago actually. There were a few bovine looking creatures here earlier, so I think this is their feed. But these fellows came in right after I landed and took them away. They've been here ever since, and seem to be discussing what to do with me. Well, us, seeing as how we're both in the same boat now."

"How wonderful." muttered Shade sarcastically "How about we team up temporarily? At least until we get out of here."

"i believe that would be mutually beneficial." replied Sibylla, eyeing the mages warily.
As they watched, the one of the mages shouted angrily in that same strange language and waved his staff at them as it glowed black. The staffs of the other mages lit up in a similar fashion as they advanced on them.

"Looks like they want trouble." muttered Sibylla. "Let's give it to them!"

"Back to back!" called out Shade. They stood facing opposite sides to meet the upcoming onslaught. Shade's shurikens whizzed through the air, killing a few of the mages, and Sybilla's telekinesis flung several of them against the walls and each other.

Shade's heart lifted a little but he knew that, although the mages seemed to be currently disorderly, surprised by the unexpected attack, it was only a matter of time before the recovered and used their advantage of numbers to overwhelm them.

Shade looked at the ceiling hoping to find an answer. Then it hit him as he heard the the rush of sea water. He realized that there were tons of sea water just above their heads, provided he could use it.

Shade linked himself with the water above and focused on bringing it down through the layers of earth into the cavern. And with an almighty groan, he accomplished it. He made the sea water flow down right onto the heads of the enemy mages, stunning them and knocking them out, but leaving him and Sibylla dry.

He then sent the water, along with the mages, down a passage that seemed to slope downwards at a fast pace, knowing that the mages would survive, thought they would be rather wet and stunned when the flow stopped. Then Shade cut off the flow of water and he and Sibylla stood there panting for a few minutes.

Suddenly, voices could be heard from one of the passages. Sibylla straightened and said, "I'm going. Coming, Callis?"

Shade replied, "But you don't know where you are going."

Sibylla shrugged and said, "Better than being captured, Bye, Callis!" And with that she ran down one of the passages.

Shade stood there shocked for a moment. Then he was shaken out of his stupour as more staff carrying mages strode into the room. However these men were clothed in a variety of bright colours and their staffs were topped with animal's head instead of jewels. On the whole, they appeared to be rather different from the mages that Shade had just sent packing. But he still watched them warily.

The mages looked at him with awe. One spoke, "Are you the one who used the water to defeat that entire battalion of Shadyr mages?"

Shade replied, 'If you mean those dark clothed guys, then yes."

The mages gasped in surprise and the one who had spoken to him before said, "Such a mage like yourself should be a Mordecai like us! If we had you, the Shadyr would never dare to strike us! Lokun, scan him."

One of the other mages lifted up his staff and Shade felt a slight buzz at the back of his head.

"No evil intent, Atoru." reported Lokun. "But he is seeking something. And his life depends on it..."

Atoru looked quizzically at Shade and asked, "Would you like to tell me about it?"

"No thank you." replied Shade. "But I am quite sure that it will not concern harming you."

"Good." replied Satoru. "Would you care to become a Mordecai like us? We would give you a place of honour at our table, as well as a place to stay."

Maybe these guys can help me in my quest. thought Shade as he replied, "Yes."

After Shade agreed to become Mordecai, the mages welcomed him into their group. As they led him through a series of passages (all leading upward he noted) he learned that the Shadyr had raided a Mordecai farm, and the Mordecai had come down to teach them a lesson. However, by the time they had got there, Shade (with the help of Sibylla, though they did not know it.) had beaten them.

Shade continued to follow the Mordecai until they cam into a huge cavern. Shade could not see the end to either side, but only saw the rows of giant fluorescent green mushrooms that stretched out into the distance. Small figures could be seen tending them. and small huts were seen at regular intervals throughout the area.

"Do you all live here?" asked Shade, looking around him at awe.

Atoru laughed and replied, "No, of the Mordecai only the farmers do, along with a few guards. Apart from them, only the Shadyr mages and few other subterranean creatures live in the Depths. We live much higher, in the Reliquary itself."

Shade nodded as they walked across. to the other side of the cavern (which was much closer than to either side.) Then they went down a passageway till they came to a wooden platform in a shaft attached to by chains to somewhere high above, by means of a crank. The whole group of them got on the platform, and Atoru rotated the crank for a long while, raising them higher. until they finally came to a stop.

They stepped out onto a stone corridor, lined on either side by wooden doors. "These are the living quarters." said Atoru, striding past Shade.

As they passed through row after row of similar corridors, Shade heard the sounds of people behind them:chatting, babies crying, children laughing. They even came upon some children playing a game in one of the corridors. Eventually they moved out of the residential areas and into what Atoru said was the teaching area. Shade could see into the classrooms, and watch the elders educating the children.

Finally, they came into a large dining hall, with several long wooden tables in it. "Dine with us." said Atoru and so Shade sat down at the same table as the rest of the group. Several men carrying large pots came and served out food to the diners.

Shade's stomach felt repulsed as he saw what they were eating:boiled and sliced fluorescent green mushrooms like the ones he had seen being grown. Shade declined the food politely and chose instead to munch on the bread and meat from his bag.

After the meal, Shade approached Atoru and said, "Atoru, I was wondering if you could help me to find something.

Atoru raised an eyebrow and replied "Willing to tell me what it is now?"

Shade gave a small laugh and said, "No, sorry. But I think an old book might help me find it. Do you know of any place where I might find old books?" Shade said this as he felt that since the Black Book of Azz't was an old book, somewhere in other books it might be mentioned.

Atoru nodded and said, "Yes. In the Great Library we have many old books. Come, I will take you there."

Shade followed Atoru through several passageways until they came into a huge room, in which were row upon row of bookshelves.

Atoru left him with a warning: "Try not to annoy the Seeker. You may ask him what he seeks, but do nothing beyond that." and then he left.

Shade wandered through the library for a while before he came across a middle aged man clothed in red robes. He was looking through the books ardently, as if he was searching for something. Shade instantly knew that he was the Seeker.

"Hello Seeker." he said politely. "May I ask what it is you seek."

"Certainly." he replied, turning his head towards Shade. "My renowned ancestor, Archmage Raoul came upon a page from the Black Book of Azz't centuries ago, and hid it in one of thee books. Ever since then, my family has been trying to find it, as whatever spells are on the page would be of great power. It is that which I seek." Then he went back to searching.

Shade then eagerly continued through the library now that he knew that the object of his quest was close by. He wandered among the rows of bookshelves trying to sense the page somewhere, but to no avail.

Just as he was about to give up, Shade sensed a presence behind him. He whirled around to see a bearded ghost looking at him suspiciously. "For centuries I have slumbered peacefully in my library. Now I have been awoken by your presence, the presence of a planeswalker! I know you seek the page I hid so many years ago. But you will never get it, for I will not tell you where it is. I came only to see if my suspicions were right, and they are."

Shade grinned and replied "If you do not lead me to the page, I will activate light aura and make you disappear from this world. Even if you go invisible, my spell will still work."

The ghost seemed to grow pale at that and said, "Please...no...I love this library and the books. My spirit feels so at home here."

"Then lead me to the page." replied Shade triumphantly.

The ghost nodded sadly and led Shade down several rows of bookshelves before pointing towards a book. "Here. The History of the Shadyr. That's the book i hid the page in." Then the ghost disappeared.

Shade greedily grasped the book, but as he removed it from the shelf, he heard a voice yell "No!"

Shade turned to see the Seeker pointing a glowing red staff at him. He exclaimed, "I will not allow you to steal what I have searched for all my life!" and flames blasted from his staff at Shade's feet.

Shade leaped up and started to climb up the bookshelf, but then froze as it started to tip over, and realized that his weight was too much for it to hold. Shade dropped to the ground and looked up as hundreds of books fell towards him.

The Seeker watched as the bookshelf fell onto the pile of books. He felt happy. The thief had neutralized himself and he now knew which book had the page. He would have to look for it in the mess but it did not matter, as his quest would soon be over. Just as he was congratulating himself, a flash of colour caught the corner of his eye.

He turned to see the thief, looking none the worse! He looked like he had been about to run but turned his head and faced the Seeker.

The Seeker ran at him and swung at him with his glowing hot staff. The thief dodged the first blow, but then the second caught him in the chest. As soon as the staff made contact, the thief disappeared. The Seeker was confused now. That hadn't been supposed to happen. Then he felt his head being grabbed from behind and the press of cold steel against his throat and knew he had been tricked, But it was too late.

Shade smiled as threw the dead body of the Seeker to the ground. He had leaped out of the way just as the books had crashed down, and lain under a nearby bookshelf so the Seeker hadn't seen him. Then he used the doppelganger spell to create a doppelganger, distracting the Seeker while Shade sneaked up on him.

Shade removed the page from the book, and was about to planeswalk back to the Maze when a glint caught his eye. He noticed that the Seeker was wearing a glowing blue orb around his neck, that was hidden under his shirt before. Shade realized that it was a mana orb. probably charged with energy. He had only heard of them in myth and legend...he wanted it. So he cut the orb free from the necklace and planeswalked back to the Maze with it in hand.

When he arrived, he found to his dismay that the orb was missing. Then he heard the laughter of the Maze in his head. Foolish child. The Maze gloated. Your surprise amuses me. You have not yet learned to planeswalk with objects, so the orb did not come with you! By the way, nice trick. The way you go through my trials is very...interesting. Then the voice faded.

Shade then placed the page on the pedestal, and it slid down and to the side, revealing a dark hole. Shade knew immediately what he had to do, and jumped down into the hole towards his next trial.

As Nef stepped through the door, it felt as though a rope was pulling her by her sternum. Her vision blurred, she felt nauseous and as if she would pass out. Thankfully before either event could unfold, she landed back in the Maze.

The incident with Acheron had reduced her fear somewhat but at the cost of her modesty. As she sauntered down the corridor, she clutched her pendant and looked down.

“If you couldn’t beat me. Nothing can.”

Boo!

Nef jumped at the booming voice that seemed to echo down the hall.

“Gah! How did you do that? You’re meant to be in my head!”

But I AM in your head. Ha ha.

But you echoed?

I can do whatever I please.

Okay then, Mr. Maze. So what’s the plan?

Ooh, I appreciate your enthusiasm little one.

“Little one”? Did you even WATCH me transform just before?

It sounded as if the Maze exhaled through its nose. If it had one. Quite. Anyway, to business. Which do you prefer: Knowledge or Power?

Both.

You can’t have both.

Why not?

BECAUSE I SAID SO, YOU INSOLENT WORM!

The roar bounced around the stone cavern before it dissipated. Neither Nef nor the Maze spoke again. The awkward seconds stretched into minutes. The Maze then broke the silence.

I apologize, that was highly unprofessional. Do excuse me.

Um, that’s okay I suppose. Anyway, I guess I choose -

Don’t worry. I chose for you. You’ve already proven your strength. I would like you now to prove your intelligence. Good luck.

That’s it?

The Maze didn’t respond.

Great, Nef thought. Alone in the dark with no leads. If only the Maze wasn’t so sensitive.

Maybe I was rude. She mulled the thought over for a moment. Nah… I’m amazing. She skipped off into the dark.



By now she had been walking for hours, yet hadn’t found a single bend in the Maze. She had been walking dead straight the whole time.

Did I go the wrong way? She looked back into the darkness ruefully. There was no point turning back now, not until she hit a dead end. Her lips tightened at the possibility.

Then her stomach growled.

I know, jeez I’m hungry too okay? She stroked her abdominals sympathetically.

Although she tried to make light of the situation, she knew she had to eat soon or she wouldn’t last much longer.

We will eat soon. I promise.

With that, she headed forward into the unknown.

An hour later, she found the end of the tunnel. It was a dead end.

Her eyes widened. “No, this is bull…”

She walked to the wall and touched it, trying to find a suspicious groove or gap. But there was nothing.

“MAZE! What’s going on?!” she yelled. “MAZE?!”

She could feel herself panicking. No way would she walk 5 hours the other way. She wouldn’t survive. She began to pummel the brick wall.

“Open up, you ass!” She didn’t have the energy to Shapeshift. She pounded the rock some more. She could feel hot tears sting her eyes. “No! No! No!”

By now her hands were bruised and bleeding. She turned around and slid her back down the wall and began to bawl her eyes out.

This is it. I’m dead. And no one will even find my body…

Her sobbing hurt her throat.

No. I refuse to die like this.

She clenched her fists and stood up, her breath still in a spasm. But the situation had taken its toll. Exhausted and out of breath, she felt her body falling back as her mind blanked out.



Nef woke up on a chair in a strange room. Well, to be fair, the room itself wasn’t strange. But rather the fact that it was empty aside from a large table that was topped with delicious food. And also that a second ago she had been stuck in a corridor. She looked down at her hands. The bruises and blood confirmed that she hadn’t been dreaming.

She sighed in resignation.

What is going on…

Her nostrils caught the scent of fresh bread and roast meat. Her stomach growled and she gagged from hunger.

Could she trust the food though? It was still part of the Maze after all.

Her hunger got the better of her as she reached for a piece of juicy beef. Well, it at least looked like beef. As her fingers were inches away, she felt a sharp slap on her forearm. Nef gasped and recoiled, stroking her stinging forearm.

A wizened old woman cackled in her scruffy robes.

“That’s not for eating. Not for your eating. Oh no. We can’t be having that.”

Nef’s stomach growled in defiance.

The old woman guffawed. “How are you with riddles?”

“I don’t care for them. They bore me.” Nef stood up out of the chair.

“Indeed.” The woman squinted at Nef. “Perhaps I overestimated you.” She eyed Nef’s necklace. “How about you hand me over that trinket there.” She licked her lips. “Then you can have this all-you-can-eat buffet.” She waved her hand in presentation of the laid out feast.

It was Nef’s turn to lick her lips, as her stomach growled in anticipation. She grasped the necklace and looked down at it in her cupped hand.

The decision was simple.

“No deal.”

The old woman frowned. “Riddles it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“On the street there occurred a murder. The Demon watched it. The Elf discussed it. The Minotaur walked past it, but nothing else was done.”

“Okay… and then?”

“No, that’s it. That’s the riddle.”

Nef had an idea. “What? I wasn’t really listening sorry. Can you repeat it?”

The old woman groaned. “Ugh, I suppose so. This generation is so selfish these days, no one has respect anymore nor cares for higher enlightenment.”

Nef rolled her eyes.

Slightly flustered, the old woman closed her eyes to regain composure and began her riddle again. “On the street…”

Perfect.

Nef began to grab food and throw it into a nearby knapsack. The old woman droned on.

“The minotaur…”

Oh no, where do I put this. Nef could feel herself panicking again. Only one option. She stuffed the sack into the back of her underwear. It was uncomfortable to say the least, but at least it hid it from the old woman’s view.

The old woman looked up as Nef threw her hands behind her back and grinned sheepishly.

The old woman’s eyes were suspicious. “You have 3 guesses. No cheating.”

“Err, was the victim a criminal?”

“Is that your answer?”

“No, it’s a question.”

“You can’t do that, that’s cheating!” the old woman squawked.

“Okay, relax. Sheesh.” Nef flicked her nail against her tooth as she thought. “Ah-ha! I’ve got it!”

The old woman raised a sceptical eyebrow. “This is only your first guess…”

“Yeah, cause I’m a hero. It was murder on the dancefloor.” Nef began to dance victoriously. “ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh!” she gloated.

The old woman waited patiently till Nef’s cheer was over, her lips locked tightly in annoyance.

Nef brushed her hair back and stood, hand on her hip that she cocked outward.

“No, you’re wrong,” said the old woman.

Nef’s jaw hit the ground. “What?”

“You have two answers left.”

“You said ‘No cheating’. This is ridiculous. Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying,” the old woman said coolly. “Your next answer please and it better be less cheesy than your last.”

“Is that a clue?”

The old woman eyed her incredulously, then shrugged.

“Hmm…cheesy… Can you repeat the riddle again?”

“What? No!”

“Rude… hmmm… cheese, cheese, murder, cheese…”

The old woman watched.

“Yes!”

“Yes?”

“It was an advert. Someone could ‘murder’ for some cheese.”

“Nope.”

“Rats!”

The old woman’s mouth curled into a smile. “By the way, if you get this last answer wrong, you will be the next meal for my next client.” She cackled maliciously.

Oh, hell. Nef looked at the woman. There was no more time for risk, she had to get this right. Nef sighed and closed her eyes. The old woman’s thoughts flooded into her mind. Most of it was blurry.

I know you’re in here.

Nef found what she was looking for. She opened her eyes.

The old woman watched, waiting for Nef’s final answer.

“Because it was a murder of crows.”

The old woman screamed as she burst into flames. “You…You will pay!” Her screams were replaced by the sounds of cawing crows before the house fell silent.

Well… I guess it’s lunch time.

Nef grabbed some bread and some meat from the table. She could feel her mouth salivating as she brought it up to her face. She chomped down.

And gagged.

The food had turned to ash in her mouth. She looked at the table horrified as the rest of the food flaked into grey dust. She coughed and spat out the food and threw the sandwich to the ground, as it exploded with a puff.

She tipped over the knapsack and watched disappointedly as ash fell from there too.

Maybe I could eat the sack.

There was nothing left here aside from a scarf that was left by the old woman.

At least I won something.

She wrapped it round her neck and pushed open the door to reveal nothing but fog.

As Nef stepped out, the fog momentarily cleared and she found herself on what looked like a shore. White water smashed itself against the rocks that surrounded it. It was amazing, she had never seen anything like it and likely never would.

After watching the waves between the fading fogs, Nef decided it was time to push on. She turned around and was astonished to see a tall, white tower standing in front of her.

But wasn’t that… a house?

She walked back to the door and pushed it open. Instead of the room she expected, she saw steps that lead upwards. There were no other options, so she entered and ascended.

The first floor seemed to be a kind of library. Intelligent beings milled around, inspecting manuscripts and muttering incantations.

Nef walked warily past them, but they paid her no heed. They were far more interested in reading than interacting with a stranger. Nef felt somewhat relieved. She was in no state to fight. She just wanted to find some food. She quickly scampered to the next flight of stairs, hoping to find something edible.

She must have passed a dozen floors, all filled with similar things. Mages practicing spells, curators fawning over artefacts, priests reciting rituals. The pit in her stomach dulled her senses however, goading her to find anything that could be eaten. As such she skipped through these rooms as fast as she could, avoiding any interaction just like the inhabitants.

Then she found it. It looked like a makeshift café.

Do mirages exist outside of deserts?

She didn’t care and hoped that it was real. She went hesitantly to the counter.

“Good afternoon. You’re a new face. How can I help?” greeted a young elf.

“Um, I would like something to eat, please.”

“Of course. But you need to be specific.”

“Uhh…”

Nef saw the elf’s eyes float over her. His expression flickered. “Ah, Miss. Why don’t you take a seat? I will have a menu brought to you.” He immediately left the counter and entered the kitchen.

Nef could feel her head begin to spin. She needed food, fast. “Right, yes,” she mumbled.

As she sat down, she felt strange. It wasn’t to do with her hunger. There was just something…off.

Another elf came with a menu and placed it in front of Nef. She smiled awkwardly and also put down a sandwich. “I will be back in a moment.”

Nef looked up at her strangely. She did not like this place at all. Not one bit. But she was starving and finally had some food. She almost cried as she scoffed down the sandwich, barely tasting what it was. She then opened the menu. Inside, there was a page with strange symbols, with a note stuck in front.




Nef looked up. The Elf was at the counter, visibly stressed. He flashed a look at Nef. “F-free samples!” he stammered. The other customers roused their attentions. The elf looked at Nef. “Leave, Now,” he mouthed.

Nef didn’t need to be told twice. She shoved the page into her knapsack and darted down the stairs. Each floor had changed. No longer white and pristine, the rooms had become dim and derelict. The inhabitants also were no longer engaged with their books and equipment. They were all transfixed on Nef.

“Thief. Thief. Thief.” They chanted quietly. Never moving from their positions. Simply watching.

As Nef descended, the chanting grew in volume. She could feel the walls rattling, and bits of stone and dust began to rain down on her.

She reached the bottom floor, where the chanting was almost unbearably loud.

I did it.

Nef grabbed the door handle and yelped. She clutched it with her other hand as she stared at the offending handle. It was like a hot iron.

“Going so soon? But I thought you would want to chat.” Nef heard the cackle of the old woman from the house.

She spun around and saw the source of the voice. It was no longer the old woman however. Instead, she saw a hideous figure standing slightly hunched. Her long nose and chin were almost touching, like a beak, where a lipless jaw held crooked and broken teeth. Her yellowish skin was mostly concealed by a dark cloak and a pointy hat.

“You have something of mine.”

Nef’s hands went up to the scarf automatically.

“Yes, and now I want it back.” With that the witch snapped her fingers and the scarf constricted around Nef’s neck.

Nef clutched at the scarf and tried to wrench it off her. But to no avail. The scarf was bound too tightly to her skin. So much so, that it began to draw blood.

“You will learn your lesson of cheating. Did you not hear me say that I knew you were in my head? You fool! Arrogant and audacious!” She cackled.

Nef could feel the blood pounding in her neck. Her vision was going blurry and her hearing became muffled. She fell to her knees. Her face was going numb.

“Begone, foul creature!” cried a man.

A blast of light emanated from the foot of the stairs, followed by a screech of pain. Nef felt the pressure on her neck subside as she massaged it, gasping for breath.

“You interloper!” yelled the witch.

Invigorated with adrenaline, Nef threw the scarf to the ground and smashed it with Acheron’s Mace, it immediately ignited.

The witch screamed again.

“Light, absolve thee!” More blinding light cut through the dark lobby. Nef took this opportunity to swing the mace with full force into the side of the witch. She howled as the club sunk into her side, the hellfire sticking to her and her clothes.

She screamed as the fire licked at her viciously. “Mors per Incisuras!” She moaned as she once again became ash. With that, the door of the tower swung open, revealing the white fog of freedom.

Nef hooked the mace back onto her chains and scanned the room for her saviour. She saw the elf from the café, lying by the foot of the stairs, covered in deep lacerations. He was holding his side as blood pooled below him.

Nef ran and kneeled next to him.

“Redemption,” she muttered. A warm golden light flowed from her hands and wrapped around the elf’s body. When the light faded, the cuts had grown smaller, but no less deadly.

“Thank you,” he spluttered. “You have the Page?”

Nef pulled out the scrunched up piece of paper.

“Excellent. Place that on the pedestal and that will conclude your second trial.”

Pedestal? What pedestal? Nef nodded. “Thank you for saving me.”

“You saved me. Thank you. Please, take my robe as a signal of my gratitude. I won’t be needing it, anymore.” The elf took a final shaky breath before exhaling for the last time.

Nef felt guilty for taking the elf’s lavish cloak, but he had wished it. She put it on. It felt warm and luxurious. She looked down at the page as it rearranged its letters before her eyes. As she muttered the sentences, she felt her body tingling. By the end of the page she found herself in front of a pedestal.

Well that was easier than I thought...

She placed the page on it as she had been instructed.

At first nothing happened, then the pedestal flipped and threw Nef backwards. Strangely, it felt as though she fell through the ground but then she landed on her feet.

She found herself back in the Maze, and now she was cold.

Wait? Where is my robe?

Nef heard the Maze chuckle.

I much prefer you in your original attire. So much more interesting to look at...

Nef folded her arms across her chest and crossed her legs.

Besides, you’re just an amateur Planeswalker, Nefarias. You don’t even know how to do it intentionally, let alone transport items.

The Maze began to howl with laughter as its voice faded from her mind.

“What a jerk.”

Mirgajan Gedoraws | Gruul Clan | Reliquary Tower

Shit. The first thought that rang in her head. It echoed in her mind like a voice would in a cave. It hardly did anything to her, only causing her to move on the floor. Her back, neck, and body was cramping up from earlier events. Dried blood was on her arms.

You need to get up. The second thought wasn't of hers, but of somebody else's. It was smooth yet forced. Like a cold wind going through a hallowed tree.

"Get up, Mirgajan. You need to."

"Give me a few minutes," Mira mumbled, absentmindedly waving at thin air. The room she was located in had blue walls with a silver floor. It was spacious- fitting for the largest crowd. Glimmering stones were placed on the walls, giving a star-like feeling. There was a stale, cold wind in the room. Mirgajan wiggled on the floor, absorbing the feeling of coldness against her body. It was slightly waking her, only causing her to blink every once in a while then dozing off. She needed the rest, but the Maze thought otherwise.

"Mira, if you don't wake up, I'll do something drastic."

"What kind of threat is that. Honestly, you could do better," Mira said sitting up. The Maze groaned.

"I'm only trying to get you started on your next trial. It's like you are willing to die." Mira snorted, standing up.

"As if. I want to win this. To get out of this hell. To get you out of my bloody mind, you prick!"

The Maze laughed. "Name calling, how fearsome! But you have to understand, I'm here to help. Furthermore, I have the next set of instructions for you."

"I'm listening."

"I need you to receive some pages from a magical book in one of the two towers that you'll enter later. Depending on how you accept this challenge, will result in either getting the page or not. It is up to you, entirely. Since it has been decided, you will be going to Reliquary Tower for this part of the Maze. It isn't far from here, and if you chose to use planeswalking, that'll be a greater problem. You must walk there."

"Walk there? That'll have to depend on how far this "Reliquary Tower" is."

The Maze chuckled. "It isn't far from here, to be exact. In running distance, I suppose." The Maze's voice echoed off as Mirgajan stood puzzled.

"Hello? Maze-person? Again!" Mira grumbled, crossing her arms and pouting. This was the second time the Maze left abruptly. It was getting rather annoying. The Maze was getting rather annoying. Echoing off in her mind without even telling her where he was.
Mira unfolded her arms, resting her hands on her hips and stared around the room. There was a huge iron door on the left side of the room and a small, wood door on the right side of the room. Which one will get me out of here? Maybe if the Maze was here, it could help but no, he had to leave all of sudden. She groaned, staring down at her boots. A gut feeling was telling her to go towards the iron door, since it was seemed to be lock those inside from the outside while her brain relentlessly argued that it was the wood since it was easy to escape. Tug of war. She groaned. I could flip a coin.
Mira patted her pockets, but no coin. Great. Iron door it is. She ran to the left of her, feeling the stale wind fill her nose and blow through her mane of red. When reached the door, she noticed the great height of it and the appearance of it. A horizontal lock was place on the front, with a small wheel placed in the center. At least thousand bots were placed around the edge, locking it safely. Unbelievable. There wasn't a key slot for a key or anything, but a wheel. That seems easy enough.
Mira walked towards the wheel, placing two hands on it firmly and tried to spin it. Nothing. She scratched her head, confused.
With a few dozen tries, the door finally opened. What was behind it, was nothing that Mira was expecting.



A field. Vast and green. There was a sea, silently washing on the rocky shore. A slight fog in the distance, overlapping the shining sun. A tower. Circular and ancient looking with white, beige stones. There were dozen or so windows at certain levels of the tower. In front of the tower, though, were a group of Jie (dog-like lizards who love to cause trouble). They were pawing at the group, sniffing the air, and chasing one another across the land. Mira hadn't seen, but heard of them from folklore. It was said that they were at first normal dogs, chasing small critters and hunting with their loyal owners. However, there was one god that wasn't pleased with these dogs. They would cause havoc across the world, and it was very hard to keep up with them. As a warning, the god transfered all the dogs of the world with scales. They weren't harmed in any way, just more fearsome like so that their owners couldn't use them for hunting or such. How the god was wrong.
For these dog-like dragons, it made hunting it easy. Mira's father once trained a Jie to capture Buru from the town's swamp. She always wanted to see one, and it was just her lucky day.
They won't cause any harm, she thought as Mira began walking around the group of Jie. The smell of the sea wafted into her nose, causing her to sigh deeply. It seemed as if she was finally outside the Maze, from the way everything felt to her. Goosebumps were lining her arms and legs, causing Mirgajan to shiver. The Jie group was moving farther and farther away from the tower, clearing a perfect path for Mira to go into the tower. She began to run, her legs compressing against the sudden notion. Throughout the whole events that happened before, it cause great pain all over her body. She was thrown, exhausted, and fought against in the Maze. Perhaps all of that was just a test for her courage or strength, to prepare her for the real world that'll come along. Or it was to see who'll survive.
Don't think about it too much. Do what you have to do, and leave. Simple as that. What could go wrong?



There was somebody in the library. Reading the books. Protecting the books. They were smarter thanks to the books. In a dark room, there was a shelf decorated with trinkets and boxes. A desk with papers, writing ink and utilities, a glass of water, and a chair. There were thousands and thousands of books on the floor, scattered and papers ripped. Laughter. Shrill laughter. It came from one of the many rooms of the tower, echoing off walls. It could confuse the greatest genius as where it was coming from. The person didn't want company of the sort. Just wanted to be alone. Until now.



Mira turned the doorknob of the tower, and peeked inside. Darkness. Why is everywhere I go, always dark? It is some kind of warning or something.
"Hello? Anyone here?" She asked, pushing close the door and stepping in. There was a staircase that lead upwards, towards the second landing of the tower. On the first landing there was some cabinets, a broken mirror on the floor, and some paper bags. What a wreck. This better not be a set up for some stupid, unclean place.
As Mira climbed the steps to the second landing, the person the library chuckled.
"So it begins." And dashed off into another room, closing the door softly.

There's some sea wind that moves around in the tower's stairwell. Circling around Mira, like a snake. It gave her this naused feeling every time she smelled it, mixed with the lack of food she had. Maybe there is some food I could steal.

"You shouldn't steal, Miss Gedoraws. It'll cause great distress among the people residing here."

Oh, you again.

"You don't sound very pleased. Anywho, don't steal. It isn't right to steal because think about it this way- that food might be going towards a small, needy chi-"

Hold that thought.

Mirgajan crouched down, picking up something paper wrapped. It was squishy yet firm to the touch. She turned it around in her hand, hoping to see the color of whatever was inside. Maybe it was food. Without hesitation, she opened it up. In place of what she thought was food, was a scruffy small man with nothing on. His long hair was almost like his clothes, in a sense. Hob. Of all things I wanted to find, I had to find a Hob.

"For Aegir's Sake," Mira mumbled under her breath, wrapping of the Hob in his cocoon. She stood up, dusting herself off and looked around. Where's the library? There was an opening to the far right of her, closed off with a white door. The foggy weather outside seemed to cause Mira's to linger on, staring at the door. It was getting boring, sleepiness would cave in and cause her to fall onto the floor, sleeping away her troubles away.
Not this time. She walked to the door, and knocked.

The person that was in the library, was chuckling in their bedroom, huddled by a nearway. Wedged, they could see through a little hole of the wall. "Perfect."
Mira opened the door, and walked into the room. Books lined the walls, thousands and thousands. There was a huge window across from a small, wooden desk that covered in papers. The window looked out into the sea, and the surrounding land. A heavy fog was slowly making its way inland.
Mira sighed. I finally found it.

"Not quite, Mira. Remember the page."

"Where on earth do I find this page? It can be anyway or in any book." She wandered around the room, pulling out gold spined books, reading the wonderful stories, and put it back. She continued this process, picking, reading, putting back, in hopes of finding the page. Nothing. Mira slid against one of the bookcases, exhausted.

The person from the library, who was in the other room, smirked.

"Now's my chance," they hissed. The person moved on their forearms and legs to get out of the cramped spot and when they were freed, crunched down still, they stood up and moved towards the door. The person from the library was hunched over, giggling quielty to themselves. When they reached the library door, Mira was about to give up.

"I can't find this stupid page. There's paper all over the floor, its a mess." The door clicked. "Honestly, I rather go to somewhere out of this world, rather then here. Nothing fun happens. More work and no fun." The person from the library was approching Mira, giggling softly and sliding their feet. In its hand was the page from the Big Book of Azz't, a powerful book with unimaginable knowledge.

"Excuse me, Miss, but what the hell are you doing in my library?" the person said chillingly. Mira snapped her head around, looking at the figure. They looked almost of just bone as if their skin was transparent. Limos.

"Oh, I-I didn't know anyone lived h-here, sir."

"That's what they always say. You know what I do to people who say those types of things?"

"I'm afraid not, sir." Mira tried to keep her cool, but she was shaking in her boots.

Limos chuckled, his whole body shaking. "I eat them. Since I am always so hunger. You look like the perfect treat. Drizzled in some sauce. Yummy." He walked forward, trying to corner Mira against a wall so he could have his feast.
When Limos was a few inches from Mirgajan, she groaned. I really don't want to fight this thing. Dear Aegir. She crossed her arms, at least looking as if she was weak but this was part of the plan. Limos snickered.

"Such an easy target. Time to eat up." He leaned forward, but before he could bite into Mira's neck, she grabbed him by the shoulder and shook. Limos's head was jerking wildly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. After sometime, his body laid limp in the Aepep's hands. The paper that was gripped in fear, handled down generations, and tried against now placed in Mira's boot. She dusted her hands off, and nodded towards Limos.

"You deserved that." And walked out of the library. There were so many books there, she couldn't leave them be. Maybe one for reading on her way back? Or perhaps a book that can strengthen the inner workings of her? Mirgajan smiled. A red, skinny book was laid on the desk with the words Bagwyn's Guide to the Unknown

"What a silly title," Mira thought aloud, stuffing the book into her boot.



As she ran outside, the fog was heavier. The group of Jie were nowhere in sight. Mira panted, placing her hands on her knees. Glancing the way she came, the door to the Maze was completely gone. But how? Doesn't matter. I need to find a different way before it gets too foggy. That moment something splashed against the coast hard.

"Huh?" Before Mira could react to what happened, claws dug into her arms and she was lifted off the ground. Silky, silver wings created cold wind surrounding her while water dripped onto her body. Are you serious? As she was lifted up, her left boot came off and with her boot came the book.

"No!" Mira cried out, grasping at the boot and book falling. But it was no avail, and decided to just stay still throughout the flight. She saw the tower disappearing into the distance, the fog covering the whole land, and the sound of the waves pushing harder. Sighing, the Aepep looked up. A dragon with fish-like body, bird-like wings and claws, and a head of a camelid (llama). Fuzzy and prickly. Must be an Amaru. A deadly dragon that can kill somebody with in seconds.
Within a few minutes of flying, the Amaru and Mirgajan came across a border. A small, circular dome. It was unseen to the naked eye, but at the right angle, the sunlight from overhead provided a view of what was inside. When the Amaru was at the right height, he started to loosen his grip on Mira's arms.

"What? No, no! Don't let me go! I am not falling at this great of height!" Mira panicked. I'm going to die. I'm going to die.

"You haven't died yet. You'll be fine. Just land with your feet pointed out."

You always say the silliest things, and sometimes they don't work.

"Your choose, Miss Gedoraws. Either you want to survive long enough to be the hero, or die trying." The Maze's voice rang off.

"What does that mean?" Mira asked aloud. The Amaru didn't respond, only hovered. He hovered lower and lower, getting closer to the dome.

"I'm going to drop you now. When I drop you, you'll be in the same spot as you started. From there, you'll do something. I don't remember this something- I hope you do." The Amaru said deeply. It was the first time the dragon actually said something to Mira.

Sounds like somebody I know. "Thanks. I'll be sure to remember the something, and do it." And with that, the dragon dropped the Aapep. She slid passed the dome with ease, and fell into the realm she once resided. Her legs were wobbly when she fell. Her bootless foot felt cold against the tiles, as the same stale smell welcomed her. In her right boot, the page from the book was folded and compressed against her leg. She slid her fingers into her boot, feeling the thin paper. It was flimsy and warm from her sweat. Which wall will open with this paper?
She spun around in a semi-circle, closing both eyes and pointing a finger. It was game her father had taught her when picking between optional things. Whichever one your index finger landed on, it'll be the one you must choose. It was a silly game, though, for a little kid. It was the only optional during a time such as this.

Her finger landed on the farthest right wall, glistening with opal. A colorful shadow. She walked over to the wall, gripping the paper and prayed it would work. She pressed the page against the wall, pinning the corners with her thumb. A sudden rush of wind pushed against her body, causing her to stiffen and grunt. The wall the paper was on, caved in and creaked with sudden pressure. A bright light. Fresh, wonderful smells welcomed her. She stumbled forward, nearly tripping as the wall opened to another part of the Maze.

Sibylla Rathbone | Izzet League | Reliquary Tower

The light quickly died as quickly as it had come, revealing Sibylla to have walked into a chamber of corroded stone. Letting out a sigh, she walked around the room, the sickly golden-brown of the walls accompanying the dank air.

“I suppose even magical labyrinths grow old and decrepit,” she murmured, hobbling forward on her staff.

Hello pot, the name’s kettle; have we met? the Maze quipped.

The old woman scowled, glaring up at the ceiling. “How long have you been waiting to say these lines?”

I’ll have you know that I’m an immortal being who has memorized every joke ever written-

“Regardless,” Sibylla interrupted, walking across the chamber, “what would you have me do next?” Her temper was running a bit short now.

So glad you asked. A beat. Sibylla Rathbone, you have completed Trial One. In other words, the easiest task is now behind you. Congratulations.

“You even learned sarcasm.”

For our next challenge, the Maze continued, we’ll have you choose where you want to take your trial. Please direct your attention to that wall.

“Which wall?”

That wall.

“Are you...pointing at it?”

The Maze fell silent. Seconds later, two doors rumbled up in the wall to Sibylla’s left. That wall, it said defiantly.

“I see.” Sibylla suppressed a smirk and walked up to the doors. One of the doors was a menacing crimson, lined with silver leaf. An intricate crest lay in its center.

The Command Tower, the Maze narrated.

Sibylla nodded and examined the other door. This one seemed to be constructed of banded marble, which radiated out from a single white stone in the center. The Reliquary Tower, the voice said.

So, Miss Rathbone, what’ll it be? Door Number One, or Door Number Two?

The schoolteacher rapped her staff against the ground, the sharp sound echoing off of the walls. “The Reliquary,” she said without hesitation.

If that’s your final answer, then allow me to educate you upon your second task. This second trial is another fetchquest. Only this time, the item of retrieval is a page.

“A page?”

But not just any page; this is a page from the book from the Black Book of Azz’t. A legendary tome which stretches the boundaries of Ravnica’s existence, holder of a power unknown to mortal eyes.

“They say that about every old scrap of paper,” Sibylla muttered, standing before the Reliquary Gate. Hopefully it would be a bit more peaceful; she’d done enough pointless fighting today.

Clucking her tongue, she nodded. “Is that all?” she asked, glancing up.

All that’s left is for you to get there.

The psychic mage smirked. “That should be easy enough.” Raising her staff forward, she tapped it against the crystal. She closed her eyes and focused, drawing from the depths of her spirit. “I am a Planeswalker,” she said.

Silence. Yes you are, the Maze noted, but you need to Planeswalk now.

Sibylla’s eyes flew open. The Reliquary door still loomed over her, the hypnotic marble impeding her path. She gritted her teeth, trying a bit harder. “I am a Planeswalker, and you will let me through!” She yelled the last word, charging through the gate as it dissolved into shadows and mist.

-----------------

Rage-white water crashed against the rocks, sending a spray into Sibylla’s face. Her robes fluttered as the sea breeze whistled tunelessly along the shore. Looking out onto the water, a thick, impenetrable mist hung over it, like the ocean’s predatorial breath.

Stealing the fresh air into her lungs, she sighed. “And I suppose the next trial will be even harder to enter?” she asked the heavens.

I won’t say. Were I you, I would focus on breaking into the Reliquary Tower.

Sibylla frowned. “But where…” She trailed off as she turned around. An enormous tower loomed over her, a triumphant bastion in an ocean of mist. Giant blocks of otherworldly stone composed it in majestic hues of tan and alabaster. Grand stained-glass windows made it feel as though she were looking at a cathedral. Sibylla swallowed dryly. “Ah.”

Ah indeed, the Maze said. Now, just take a leaf from my book and take the page from their tower. I’ll be watching, Miss Rathbone.

“When aren’t you?” Sibylla muttered, leaning on her staff as she hobbled toward the base of the Reliquary.

Shoving the doors apart with telekinesis, she walked through the entry hall. Stone soldiers flanked her on either side, standing at attention with halberds in hand. Sibylla eyed them cautiously, hurrying along as she saw one move slightly.

Taking a left, she continued through the tower, passing up glittering jewels and vaults of gold along the way. It was a blessing Niv-Mizzet himself hadn’t been chosen; he’d probably have just uprooted the tower and stolen the entire thing.

Sibylla, on the other hand, was entirely focused on her task. Her sharp eyes scanned the glass cases, searching for anything that looked like pure darkness on paper. The Black Book of Azz’t would be unique; an eons-old sentient labyrinth had to have some good reason for wanting it.

Her gaze locked onto a block in the wall. At first glance, it would seem to fit perfectly the rest of the pure-white construction. However, a closer look yielded the scuff-marks around the edges of the stone. It had been pushed in after the rest of the wall, and that was nothing if not suspicious.

With a wave of her staff, Sibylla broke the block from the corridor wall, the moulding crumbling like plaster. Behind it, a page sat in the darkness on a small wooden stand. Yellow and wrinkled at the edges, it seemed to give off an ancient, sinister aura.
In other words, exactly what she was looking for.

She pinched the sheet gingerly between thumb and forefinger, holding it out in front of her. Black, twisting letters were scrawled out in writhing sentences. Sibylla stared at the ink calmly, analyzing her prize.

Faintly, she realized that she could read the letters. Memories of long-dead scripts she’d pored over in Izzet’s libraries flooded back, fueling her mind. Sibylla smirked, raising the page above her. Mirth boiled up from her chest, releasing itself in short, cold chuckles.

She could read the Black Book of Azz’t. Its infinite power was hers, all hers. It didn’t belong to those fools in Izzet, nor the Dragon Maze. This was her power, her right, and her salvation from this sickening world.

Her eyes drunk in the paper’s text, a wide smile appearing on her face. Azz’t, page 1000, it read.

Sibylla’s heart stopped as she read the top line. If you can read this, you’ve fallen for my trick. Some use that language degree was, huh?

At that moment, the floor gave out from under her, sending her tumbling down a deep, dark tunnel. Sibylla cursed, dropping the page, which fluttered to the ground in the tower hallway.

The slippery stones flew beneath her as she fell. The shadows were neverending, the wind slamming against her body.

She shot from the tube, crashing into a pile of hay. Under normal circumstances, it would have been a soft, pleasant landing. However, hay bristles are a bit pointy, doubly so at high speed.

“Moo?” Sibylla uprooted her head to find an enormous cow staring her in the face. Its large, round eyes blinked once, long jaw chewing its feed.

Sibylla’s eyes widened. Jutting from the cow’s back were two bony ridges, while its tail flicked around a spiked barb on the end. Similar creatures were meandering around in a room of hard-packed soil and stone, tunnels echoing their strange, quizzical moos.

“What are you?” she pondered, nearly getting up from the haystack.

Voices sounded from around the tunnel bend. The psychic mage quickly buried herself in the pile again, peering out through a yellow screen.

“And then I said, ‘Traps? Don’t you mean the entire tower?’” Four voices launched into boisterous laughter, a quartet of chortles. A squad of black-cloaked mages rounded the corner, horsing around and shoving one another. One held up an oddly shaped piece of metal, beating a small mallet against it.

The scorpion-like cows ambled in their direction, the cowbell still clanging loudly. The cow in front of Sibylla, however, continued munching, oblivious to the noise.

As the bovines lined up before them, the mages broke out a stack of buckets, setting them up beneath the cows. Producing stools, they sat down and set to work.

Filmy, iridescent liquid squirted from the udders as the mages milked the beasts. It poured into the buckets, seeming to glow as it did so. The troupe whistled while they worked, unaware of Sibylla’s incredulous stare.

One mage elbowed another, grinning. “So, did you hear about Miss Fortune?”

His comrade cursed as some of the fluid splashed on his hands. Wiping it off, he shook his head. “What?” he replied.

“Apparently, Miss Fortune’s doubling the amount of magical traps. Says we’re going to have some unwelcome guests soon.”

The other one tapped his chin. “Aye. The Mordecai get more daring by the day.”

The first mage nodded. “Yes, which is also why Miss Fortune’s having us collect so much Da’kan milk. A few more gallons, and we’ll be blazing through these tunnels faster than you can say-”

The mage launched into an extravagant phrase of a different language, which actually turned out to be quite long. Meanwhile, the Da’kan in front of Sibylla kept eating. Slowly, the patch of hay concealing Sibylla thinned. Sooner or later, the mages would see her.

So, Sibylla did the only sensible thing. When the Da’kan lowered its head to graze again, she reached up and set fire to the hay in its mouth.

The Da’kan bucked and screamed, its spiked tail flailing wildly. Turning, it charged away, straight into the others that the mages were milking.

And the rest was a sight to behold.

The Da’kan became a stampede of hooves and armor, rampaging across the room. The mages were thrown to the ground, nearly trampled as the earth was pulverized to dust.

One of the Da’kan charged down a tunnel, mooing furiously. Soon, others followed, scattering down the different tunnels, until the only beings left in the room were five staff-wielding mages.

Sibylla stood up, brushing the hay from her shoulders. “Now, I’m going to ask you once,” she said, walking forward. She slammed the butt of her staff against the ground, snarling. “Where is your leader?”

One of the mages got to his feet. “Intruder!”

She frowned. “That’s no place I’ve heard of-”

Pulling a gemstone from his cloak, the mage smashed it against the wall. It shattered like glass, releasing a caterwauling that echoed through the tunnels. Already, Sibylla was cursing her haste. She took a casting stance as more black-cloaked magicians poured into the room, wielding ruby-tipped staves and colorful battlecries.

She grimaced. There were twelve, no, eighteen of them surrounding her, forcing her back. “I won’t die here,” she promised herself. But then, she had never been one to trust words.

“Sibylla Rathbone!” a voice called out.

She whirled around. “Callis?” Wearing his usual assassin gear, the patron from her part-time bar stood behind her, mystified at the sight before him. Behind Sibylla’s surprised face, a coy smirk began to form. She could use this. And use it she would.

---------------------------

Sibylla dashed up the tunnels, trying to keep from cackling. Callis had shown up at the perfect moment. Strength was seldom victory, and the assassin Champion was the prime example, eliminating her enemies at the cost of his own mana. Meanwhile, she was one step closer to her goal.

The leader of those mages, Miss Fortune, had to be somewhere in these tunnels. And assuming she was as sly as her traps, Sibylla needed to be on guard. This was why she’d sent the Da’kan down the tunnels first. If there were any traps - and here she passed a bovine corpse impaled to the wall - the Da’kan would have triggered them all.

Eventually, the tunnels widened, coming out into a large chamber. Circles of stone pulsed outward from the center of the floor. Light shone in from above, and Sibylla looked up to see a veil of mist through a hole in the ceiling. The surface.

Sibylla surrounded herself with Telekinesis, floating upwards. Once she was out, she could ransack the tower again. She’d taken long enough in this trial.

Being a psychic mage didn’t always mean seeing the future. However, sheer instinct galvanized Sibylla to the left, covering herself with telekinesis.

Steel-tipped arrows burst from the floor, the ceiling, and the walls, flying in all directions. Sibylla hardened her defenses, and the arrows ricocheted off of a barrier of pure will. They bounced metallically off of her wall, clattering to the floor. Sibylla sighed, descending. “I know you’re here. Reveal yourself already,” she said.

A section of the floor slid away, the tile scraping back. Two fluffy fox ears appeared from the gap, followed by the rest of the body. “Aw,” the child said, crawling up from the hole, “and I thought that’d kill you for sure.”

Sibylla recoiled. “What...are you?” The girl was wearing a snow-white robe, wrapped around her like some far-eastern garment. Nine elegant tails sprouted from under it, while two fox ears twitched on top of her head. She was completely out of place in the Dragon Maze.

The girl pouted. “How rude!” She gestured to herself proudly. “I’m the kitsune of ill will, general of the Shadyr mages, Miss Fortune!”

“Ah.” Sibylla swallowed, unsure what to make of the situation. “Well, that’s...nice.”

“And I know why you’re here, pruny lady!” Miss Fortune reached inside her kimono, withdrawing a sheet of cracked papyrus. Sinister, ebony writing scrawled across it. “You want this page, don’t you? That’s why you fell for the fake I set!”

Sibylla’s brow twitched. “That was you?”

“Of course it was!” The kitsune giggled, waving the page. “I can’t just leave our most valuable possession lying around, now can I?”

“No,” Sibylla agreed, raising her staff, “but you can be a nice young lady and give it to me.”

“Lady?” Miss Fortune cocked her head, tails swishing. “Are you stupid? I’m a guy!”

Sibylla stopped short, dumbfounded. “But your clothes...and your name…”

“There’s nothing wrong with my clothes!” the kitsune retorted. “Besides, what’s wrong with my name? I’m the fox of ill will! Misfortune!”

The gears in Sibylla’s mind turned. And sparked. And started whirling at mach speed. Now, it was obvious why Misfortune was a general of the Shadyr, and this revelation only fueled her rage.

“Just give me the page!” she snarled, extending her mind forward. Misfortune, sensing it, dashed to the side, whipping a dart-shooter from his robe. Strafing quickly, he fired twice. Sibylla leaped out of the way as the darts whisked by; then the small click of a tripwire registered in her mind.

She ripped the tiles from the earth, using them to shield her as more arrows burst from the floor and walls. Dropping them again, she lunged her telekinesis at Misfortune.
Misfortune flinched as the dart-shooter was pulverized from his grip. He dropped the fragments, dashing around the stone chamber. But Sibylla’s mind was faster.

She hoisted the boy by his robe, levitating him over to her. “Now, hand over the page,” she ordered, “and be careful not to rip it.”

The kitsune squirmed in her grasp, reddening. “H-hey, cut that out,” he said, his kimono falling open.

This irked Sibylla even more. “Give me the page!” she snapped, reaching for the sheet in Misfortune’s hand.

The boy smirked. “I don’t think so.” Drawing a flask from his pocket, he lifted a thick, multicolored liquid to his lips. Da’kan milk.

Sibylla’s eyes flashed, and she warped her mind, smashing the container. It shattered into pieces, the glass dispersing and falling down. But Misfortune jerked his head forward, lapping up the liquid in midair. He licked his lips, his eyes glowing.

Instantly, the fox spun his tails, blinding Sibylla with a wave of auburn fur. She stumbled backwards in surprise, loosening her grip. Misfortune twisted in her grip, ripping the top part of his robe away and falling. The moment his feet touched the ground, he vanished.

Sibylla whipped her head around furiously, raising her staff in defense. She blocked Misfortune’s first punch as he streaked by, barely feeling the force of the blow. The kitsune was fast, but he was weak. Regrettably, it seemed that sheer endurance was the way to go. Da’kan milk had to run out at some point, since the Shadyr wouldn’t need so much otherwise.

She caught the next blow on her staff, barely flinching from her stalwart stance. Subconsciously, she activated her magic to soften the impact. “Enough games,” she declared, whipping up a whirlwind of flame around her.

Click. Arrows shot from the walls, forcing her to duck. She barely had time to think before more impaled themselves beside her from the ceiling.

“Setting off your own tripwires, are you!” she cried, dispelling the flames and rolling away. Another punch caught her off-guard, and she stumbled backwards, only to be struck again from behind and launched forward.

Misfortune bounced her between his brutal punches, darting effortlessly around the stone chamber. Sibylla’s lips curled from her teeth as they grew even more frenzied, the boy lurching forward to strike with all his weight.

And Sibylla kept smiling as the punches started whiffing, the strikes unbalanced and wavering. Eventually, Misfortune appeared in front of her, swaying and hiccuping.

“H-hey,” he slurred, his face flushed, “what’d you-” He cut off, collapsing to the ground. His tails curled around him like a body pillow, his ears falling softly. His chest rose and fell as he snored adorably.

Sibylla walked forward, smirking. “Vertigo,” she said, scooping the page from the kitsune’s tiny hand. “A little spell Callis reminded me of: It makes you drunk without a drop of alcohol. Especially useful for running a bar." She winked.

The fox moaned softly, his sleeping face remaining serene. Sibylla turned away in disgust. “Those perverted Shadyr can find you for themselves.” Holding the page of the Black Book in her hand, she looked up at the mist above.

She shouted, “I am a Planeswalker, and I will now return to the Gate!” She gritted her teeth as she felt her soul being sucked from the dimension of the Reliquary Tower.

--------------------

Welcome back, the Maze greeted as she opened her eyes. I see you’ve escaped the Reliquary’s traps.

In more ways than one, Sibylla grumbled.

The Maze scoffed. What, did little Misfortune hurt your pride as a woman?

Just take me to the next trial, she snapped.

Right. A tile slid aside in the center of the rotten chamber, a marble pedestal rising from the hole. Just place the page there, and you’ll advance to the third trial.

Sibylla tossed the page onto the table, turning back as a heavenly light captured and raised it. “I hope these trials get harder,” she sighed. “I can’t just brutalize my way through the Dragon Maze.”

You know what they say, Miss Rathbone. Be careful what you wish for, the Maze replied as the stone door opened with an ominous scrape.

A smooth voice echoed between the glass towers of the Citadel, lilting on the heavenly air. On the silver road below, an elf walked, flipping and catching a coin.

Love can heal, love can wound, love can free, and entomb,

Love can mend, love can break, love can give, love can take,

And I love you…

Tryk trailed off, the song disintegrating into mumbles and hums. It was a love song; one forbidden by Selesnyan law. When he was a part of their choir, he’d had to sing those drab, faceless songs about “you are forgiven” and “trust in the heavens” all across Ravnica.

Catching Asmira in his palm, he gazed at her fondly. Of course, such circumstances had drastically changed once the choir toured Izzet. Meeting Asmira had set him free. She had given him his magic, as well as his purpose, and he gave her his everything in return.

“I wonder...what should we do once we win? Do you think the Maze will grant us one wish?” He smiled at his lover.

I would focus on the present, Mr. Rivelle. For the present of the future is not present as a present in the present. The Dragon Maze’s presence filled the citadel, the aether becoming thick with mana.

Tryk tipped his hat up, unfaltering in his pace. “Really?” He grinned, the silver flames dictating his response. “What’s to stop me from grabbing every statue in this area and carting off everything you own?” After a beat, he lunged for the nearest golden statue.

His fingers jammed against a solid wall. Tryk winced and recoiled, clutching his fingers. I would say, the lack of their existence makes them quite difficult to remove, said the Maze dryly.

“Huh.” More intrigued than angered, Tryk paced up the hall, viewing the statue from a different angle. It still looked strikingly realistic, losing no depth. “A magical mural?”

Indeed. Did you think I would actually construct a citadel inside myself?

Tryk shook his head slowly. “No, no…” Smiling, he continued on his way. “So, what’s next?”

The end of the hallway.

“What-” Tryk was cut off by his face smashing into a wall. “Oh,” he said, rubbing his nose. “Right.”

Quite. He could sense the mirth in the Maze’s voice. The fake landscape merged into a gateway of silver and glass, shining in the painted sunlight. Now, I believe we should start the next trial. For this trial you’ll be sent to one of two Towers. There, you must retrieve a legendary page of the Black Book of Azz’t. Simply return here with it, and you’ll advance to the third trial.

“And if I refuse?”

You won’t.

Tryk chuckled, raising his arms in a shrug. “True. So, which of these towers will you be sending me to?”

Well, I was thinking you could decide the old-fashioned way: with a coin toss.

“Hey!” Tryk’s hand went to Asmira. “She is not old!”

The Maze fell silent. Just flip the coin, you Guildless.

The light-elf cackled as he flipped Asmira low into the air, taking care not to hit the ceiling. Closing his eyes, he snatched her as she fell, kissing her surface. “Planeswalk!”

He felt his soul pull from his body, charging triumphantly through the gate. Pinpricks of light began to appear in the darkness, multiplying into a realm of brilliant stars. Tryk felt a tranquil pulling in his chest, and he floated towards one of the stars as the light grew blinding.

Landing in the Tower was like falling from a few feet up. Tryk braced himself against the snowy ground, feeling the weight of his soul touching down.

Straightening up, he brushed off his vest. “Well, well, well.” A tower loomed before him, a dark-slate bastion that stood proudly upon the cliff. Behind it, he could an ocean of pure white froth, rabid waves preying on one another until they smashed against the shore.

Tryk lifted Asmira, his eyes reflected in the image of argent scales. Welcome to the Command Tower, the Maze murmured. With that, it vanished from his mind.

“Alright then.” Tryk placed Asmira back in the locket, walking leisurely along the barren cliff. “Our adventure awaits.”

The Tower was farther away than it looked. That’s fine, Tryk thought. An unparalleled view of the sea accompanied the lovers all the way. Snow danced down from the sky in a frosty ballet, breezing across his clothes.

“Hark!” Tryk turned at the sound of a forceful voice. Barely silhouettes in the fog, a group of soldiers approached. They carried all manner of staves and swords with them, walking in rapt formation. The lead one called out, “Be you friend or foe?”

Tryk’s lawful nature took hold. “I am a friend of justice, and nothing else!” he replied, gliding towards them with Wind Manipulation.

“Well met!” The lead soldier smiled as he approached. Holding out his hand, he shook Tryk’s firmly. “We are the soldiers of Hope, on a holy mission to depose the Wicked Queen Cullinan, and restore peace to the Adamant Cliffs!”

The Guildless elf bowed deeply. “As for me, I am on a quest for an ancient artifact hidden within the Tower.”

“Hm. Well then, what say thee to an alliance? It would be a mutually beneficial deal.”

“Of course.” Tryk jumped to agree, grinning.

The soldiers cheered, raising their weapons in boisterous chorus. Their leader grinned. “Come, then! Let us conquer this tower!”

The congregation turned towards the enormous doors. “Let’s,” Tryk concurred.

------------------

“Oh God! Oh God!”

“They got Kenneth!”

“Those bastards!”

Tryk and the soldiers stumbled over each other as they dashed through the twisting tower. The screeches of monsters were ever-present in the darkness behind, only outdone by the high-pitched screams of the squadron.

“How did this happen!” he muttered sharply, rounding the turn in the stone hallway. One unfortunate soldier was ripped off his feet, the tendrils of shadow coiling around him. His fingers scraped bloody lines on the floor as he was dragged into the darkness.

It had come in an instant, erasing the light behind them in its ebony tide. The void advanced relentlessly, like black blood surging through the Command Tower’s veins.

“The Lich Guardians won’t be deterred so easily!” Tryk turned to see the lead soldier running beside him. “We need light, and a lot of it!”

“Light, you say?” Planting his foot in the ground, he turned to face the advancing darkness.

He thrust his hands out, yelling, “Shock Wave!”

Crackling electricity arced from his hands, zigzagging through the hallway to strike at the shadow. As the attack hit home, Tryk could make out the faint image of pitch-black skeletons holding a rectangle in the light. But as quickly as they had come, the shadows sank into the cracks of the floor.

The soldiers slowed to a stop, slumping against the wall. All manner of axes, swords, and spears hit the ground as they collapsed, decimated in number. The leader rested his hands on his knees, taking heaving breaths. “What,” he said, wiping the sweat from his brow, “what happened?”

“Lich Guardians - dozens of them,” panted one of the spearmen.

“I didn’t sign up for this!” another shouted angrily.

Shaking his head in despair, the leader looked up at Tryk. “Sorry, mate. Looks like we won’t fulfill either of our goals.”

Tryk pushed his index finger against his forehead, striking a crooked pose. “Don’t be so sure, captain.”

“But how?” The captain gulped exhaustedly. “We’ve barely got seven of the men we started in here with - we can’t possibly-”

“Silence.” Tryk paced up and down the hallway, shading his eyes egotistically. “Those were acceptable losses. Necessary, even. Because now, with this few members,” he shouted, pointing at them heroically, “we can obey the rules of heroism!”

A soldier’s face went slack. “The...rules?”

“Of heroism, yes.” Tryk could feel justice surging through his body, the laws becoming crystal clear. “You see, the reason we failed before is because we acted like minor characters.” He jabbed a finger at the collapsed group. “Think! A group of soldiers, the lot of you! People born to die in battle! Didn’t you think there’d be casualties?”

The captain spoke up. “But...I don’t see how following rules will change that…”

“You fool!” The mad light-elf struck another pose. “If we follow the rules of this world, we will have fate on our side! See how I’ve adapted to my role! If we can manipulate this Tower’s plot, we can succeed!”

The soldiers exchanged a couple of looks before smiling. “I don’t see what we have to lose,” the captain said. “Have it your way, elf!”

“Perfect!” Tryk beckoned them closer as they gathered round. “Now, first, I’m going to need you to tell me your names…”

-------------------------

The lithe, silent Coltar zipped around the corner, searching furtively for hidden enemies. Nodding, he signalled the other seven hurriedly. Taking the hint, the soldiers crept forward. They had removed their helmets now; each of their faces showed a different emotion.

“Y-you sure we’ll still be able to fight Queen Cullinan like this?” Meo, the young, nervous healer wrung his hands worriedly.

Tryk clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, lad; you were born to play this role.”

“Tch.” A scoff from the back of the group drew his attention. “I still think this is stupid,” the lance-wielding flankman grumbled.

“Nonsense, Koda.” The gentle giant Uru spoke smoothly, reassuring his comrades. “We have faith in our captain, and our friend’s plan.”

Draco, the angsty teen swordsman, remained silent, thumbing his lock of crimson hair. His cheerful comrade Larkley strolled beside him, humming a sunny tune to complement his orange hair.

Terminus, the leader, walked at the front of the pack, talking to Tryk. “I honestly didn’t believe you at first, but we haven’t run into a single trap since we started.” He folded his arms and shook his head. “Not to mention that the monsters we’ve faced have been mere goblins and imps.”

“Of course,” Tryk responded. “That should get your men’s levels up for the boss battle.”

“The what?”

Tryk searched his mind before realizing he didn’t know either. “Asmira tells me things sometimes, things I don’t always get.” He held the locket in front of him, grinning at Terminus. “This was her idea, you know. But she’d never admit it directly.”

“Ah,” he sighed, clutching her to his chest, “she’s just too pure.”

Terminus stared, nodded, gulped, and looked back. Koda seemed to be bullying Meo, despite Uru’s protests, and Larkley was trying to get Draco to sing with him. Coltar was sliding along the wall ahead of them in a show of pointless stealth.

Coltar dashed forward, whipping his head around. Beckoning Terminus with his hand, he gestured to the door before them.

“This would be it,” muttered the captain. “Cullinan’s lair.”

The insane, inexplicably-experienced elf nodded. “Well, let’s get right to it.”

He blasted the doors open, leading the group of heroes through. “Cullinan!” he shouted. “We’ve come for your head!”

The throne room was carved out of grey stone, which seemed to shimmer in spots where the light glanced off of it. Dark tunnels led out beneath the White Sea of Silence behind it, like gaping maws to swallow them whole. Bright orange lamps lit the room from above, while the carpet of ruby before them was unmistakable. “This is it,” Tryk whispered. “It has to be.”

The Queen sat on the throne, eyes bulging. “How are you still alive!” she shrieked, clawing into her diamond armrests. Upon closer inspection, each of her nails were laced with a shimmering, clear gem.

“Mother,” said a voice from beside her, “perhaps you should not have sent out your minions in waves of weakest to strongest, and just used the Lich Guardians again.” A boy stood primly beside the throne, arms tucked behind his back. His suit was completely dazzling, as if the entire cloth had been turned to diamond.

“But then, dear Starr,” the queen crooned, “they would never be able to fight you. I wanted to give them a chance, but even I didn’t expect they’d make it this far.” She glared at the soldiers.

“Enough talk,” Koda snorted, brandishing his lance. “I’ll kill you!” He burned forward at superhuman speed, leaving a streak of crimson in his wake.

The young man stamped against the ground, launching himself up into the air. Time seemed to stand still as he hovered over the queen’s throne. A bloodthirsty grin marred his features as he thrust his spear downwards. “Die!”

Shockwaves burst through the room as the boy beside the throne raised his hand, intercepting the lance with a chop. Koda cried out as the force threw him backwards to crash on the floor.

The other soldiers immediately formed a circle around him, backing inwards. “Heal him, Meo,” Terminus ordered, “and be quick about it.”

Prince Starr returned his hands to his sides, sighing. “I don’t really see the point in greeting guests like this...but if you want a show, mother,” he said, tightening his diamond gloves, “you shall have one.”

The adamant prince seemed to vanish, shifting through the distance between them. Tryk sent a burst of lightning forth as he drew too close.

Terminus drew a military short-sword from his belt, catching Starr’s punch on the flat of the blade. The prince remained impassive. “If you so choose to oppose my mother, you will pay the consequence.”

Bright cracks began appearing on the blade, and Terminus was thrown backwards as it exploded. “Captain!” Larkley shouted.

Starr looked around the broken formation at the rest of them. “Now, for the rest of you.”

He was blindsided by Tryk’s coin, which came arcing down from above where he had flipped it. The light-elf waved his arms, conducting his coin to batter the diamond prince relentlessly.

Grunting, Prince Starr raised his arms, letting Asmira glance off. With a wicked punch, he blasted Tryk off his feet. Tryk flew across the room, embedding into the ceiling, barely conscious.

“Where was I? Oh yes.” Starr rushed forward and grabbed Larkley’s skull, lifting the youth off his feet.

The boy barely had any time to think before his skull was crushed open, the blood and bones flowing down his body.

“Aaargh!” The cry came from Draco, who assaulted Starr with reckless, brutal strikes. The prince was driven back, barely managing to block each blow.

From his perch in the ceiling, Tryk grinned. It looked like Draco’s berserker mode had been activated. Nobody really knew where it came from, but it was bound to show up sooner or later; they’d completed all the conditions for it. Levitating Asmira back up to his grasp, he sat back and enjoyed the show.

In a matter of moments, Starr’s head lay decapitated at the queen’s throne. She screamed, a shrill scream that echoed throughout the earthen tunnels.

As if to answer her call, the tunnels screamed back.

The Lich Guardians swarmed into the room, their skeletal forms cloaked in shadow. They blotted out the lamps, sacrificing their numbers to smother the light. Quickly, they surveyed the situation. Starr was dead. Cullinan was weak.

Queen Cullinan screamed as the swarm devoured her, stripping the flesh clean from her bones. Upon seeing the heroes, they screeched in unison, and began to descend upon them all.

Their shadows swarmed around Draco, felling the youth with one, crushing swipe. Uru raised his cudgel and charged in, only to be smashed to bits by the skeletal horde.

Meo suffered a worse fate, breathing in their vile mist. Skull filled with smoke, he sank to his knees in death.

Koda never even got to his feet.

Terminus spat out two broken teeth, staggering to his feet. Wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, he surveyed the scene around him. Five skeletons lay in the darkness around him, frozen in a cruel mixture of grins and screams. Despair filled his eyes, the confidence sucked from his stance. The shadows reached for him with razor-sharp teeth.

Crunch. Above them all, Tryk cast Heal, extricating himself from the ceiling. Floating down towards the battlefield, he surveyed the carnage.

“Oh, well,” he muttered.

Trykster Rivelle. He felt the Maze’s voice enter his mind again. You are meant to complete the trial by your own strength. Your parasitic actions will not be tolerated.

“What?” Tryk stared at the ceiling, in spite of the whirling carnage around him. “What’re you talking about? I was just following these guys for their supplies.” He raised a small bag beside him. “An army has to eat, right? I got myself some food, with no regrets whatsoever.”

He shrugged. “Honestly, the rest was just me having fun.”

So you flipped Asmira earlier, and came up chaos. The Maze seemed to sigh. Such is the way of a Guildless.

“You bet.” A skeleton dropped from above, the bone scattering across the floor. Coltar. “But I don’t think coming here was meaningless, either. No, all these Liches have to be here for a reason. They might be Guardians of more than the queen...”

Perhaps. He felt the Maze sit back, intrigued.

Tryk grinned. “Besides, Asmira’s just given me the most brilliant idea.”

Raising his hands, he charged forward, breaking through the chaotic mire. He activated Shock Wave as he felt the Liches tear at his skin, their souls whispering maliciously.

Onward he ran, until he reached what he was seeking: the diamond throne. Throwing the last of his energy forward, he made lightning, a blinding purple bolt that flew forward and hit the chair. The light refracted, scattering across the room, scorching Tryk’s eyes even as he forced them shut.

And the shadow Liches screamed for the last time, horridly chorusing as their forms burned in the light.

A single sheet of paper fluttered down from the heavens as the black abated. Tryk snatched it, already knowing what it would be. “The page,” he confirmed, grinning. “Because really, why wouldn’t you find black in darkness?”

Walking over, he scooped up Terminus’ sword, weighing it in his hand. “Hope you don’t mind,” he murmured softly, strapping it to his belt. "A little memento from you to me."

Drawing Asmira, he flipped her into the air again. “Planeswalk!” With that, he was gone, the skeletons of a valiant confrontation littering the room.

--------------------


Tryk found himself back in the mural hallway, staring at the artificial sky. “We did it, Asmira,” he whispered.

Trykster Rivelle, the Maze accused, I am displeased with your flagrant bending of the rules.

The elf drew the sack and food from his back. “But it’s still not cheating, right?” Replacing them with a grin, he chuckled, his hand going to his belt. It was empty.

As Tryk whirled around, searching for Terminus’ blade, the Maze spoke again. But you don’t seem to have enough experience Planeswalking for souvenirs. How sad. You still got what you were after, didn’t you?

“I…” Tryk stared down at the food, at the rations that seemed to resemble blood, shadow, and bones.

Trykster Rivelle, do not lose heart. For this is only the beginning.

Tryk walked over to the pedestal, numbly tossing the page on top of it. “I know,” he murmured.

Manelau RiTimm | Gruul Clan | The Command Tower

Panting, he woke up. A sharp pain traveled up his back. Deep breath. Release. He told himself this, repeatedly, before gazing around the room. Glittering walls of opal surrounded him. A window was on the far side of the room, filtering in the smallest amount of sunlight. There was a slight chill in the room, perhaps from the open window. He sighed heavily, moving his hands to the side of him and tried to get up. The pain doubled over as the poor minotaur stood up. It was burning his hope of actually surviving in this hell hole. Speaking of hell hole, the minotaur looked up at the ceiling from where he supposedly dropped. There wasn't a hole in sight- it seemed as if he floated through the ceiling, but the pain felt real. He didn't remember much from eariler (only the horrible monster that chased him and fell rather stupidly). Manelau shifted around the room, to see if there was another indication that reminded him of that fall. Nothing. He walked towards one of the opal walls.

How long have I been in here? He thought, touching the wall. It was cool to the touch. A murmured memory slowly seeped into the minotaur's mind. It was a soft one but as soon as it came into his brain, it drifted off. Shaking his head, Manelau stepped away from the wall. A stupid feeling. He gazed his eyes over at the opposite walls, where the open window drifted in cool air. It large window with flowy curtains and what seemed to be doors. Doors. That word rang in the minotaur's mind. It cut through like rock through paper.
He slowly walked to the window. The feeling of guilt and sorrow passed into his brain. In a split second, it had made him think to point where he regretted ever coming to this place. This hell. He was probably being a bit overdramatic, losing his mind here and there. It wasn't until he realized it wasn't true; in fact, his memories were twisted with forsaken lies altering his personality. It seemed, as if, his memories were torturing him. It sent him over the top.

Regarding these thoughts, Manelau continued to the window. The pain in his lower back was slightly gone but would return when he stepped wrongly on his hoof. He hated pain. After many years of being the all-star Stomping Ground champion, he came across lots of pain. To be exact, the minotaur broke mostly everything in his body (except his eyes and mouth). Emotion pain was topping the list, as well. That, and lying pain. He had tried best to ignore the pain in his lower back, probably if he didn't think about it, maybe it'll just fade away.
When he got closer to the window, the minotaur could smell something damp yet sweet. He peeked through the window, the sun blinding his eyesight for a second, before he saw a flat plain of green grass. To the west of it, was a slow moving river. His eyes wandered around the scenery. Is this what outside looks like? Manelau thought, leaning forward. There was something in the distance, something white and something windy. Below the white, was a little cliff that was overhead the river that held a small black and grey tower. The minotaur felt something (or rather, telling him) to go towards it. He peeled his eyes away from the "outside" and looked around the window. It was big enough for somebody like him to pass through, perhaps break the outer wood lining.
Manelau ducked his head, careful not to hit his head on the above wood (he didn't want to deal with another injury). He quickly (with slight anger) made it through the window. Manelau stepped out onto the grass, feeling the cool wind wall over him. He sighed, turning his gaze towards the cliff. A sudden chill washed over him, despite being hot out.



It was a long trek over couple small hills, long and endless plateaus, and dropoffs that could kill a man. The minotaur did feel tired after some miles, pausing every once in awhile then continuing. The sun was halfway in the sky when he made it to the tower. His view of the tower changed when he saw it; the weather around him had changed drastically. Fierce winds whipped the minotaur back and forth, snow felt like knives, and Manelau could barely see in front of him. He finally made it towards the tower, gripping out in front of him. He felt the jolting iron knob and pulled. Suction pulled him in as the minotaur stood at the bottom of the stairs.
Blinking, the minotaur shivered. He could hear the winds outside, clawing at the sides of the tower. The air inside the tower smelt stale and of bread. Manelau sighed, looking at the stairs that lead upwards. At the base of the stairs (which is the floor Manelau was on) was littered with papers, different weapons, and skulls. Broken mirrors lean against a peeling wall, wood beams support the upper ceiling, and red torn curtains tied neatly in front of a nonexistent window. Whispers of the angry wind moved into the tower, chilling the minotaur's bone.

He slowly made his way up the stairs, pulling at the creaky railing.

"Whatda think ya doing, scruffy man?" a croaky voice called from behind him. He slowly turned around to see a figure. It looked harmless at first until the minotaur's eye landed upon a pointed spear, fashioned to kill somebody within a second. Manelau sighed. I am not dealing with this again.

"Look," he paused.

"Afrit."

Manelau started over again. "Look, Afrit. I need to do something but I can't since you are stopping me. I think it'll be best if we both went our separate ways before something bad happens."

"You shouldn't even be here in the first place," the Afrit spat. His body with shaking with hatred, wanting to stab at the defenseless minotaur. "That's why I'll have to kill ya." He moved forward, the pointed part jabbing towards the minotaur. Since they were in such a confined placed, Manelau didn't have a place to go but up. He quickly ran upwards, skipping a few steps and even looked back at the crazed demon. He wasn't backing down to it; just hoping not to die in a stairwell.
Manelau continued to climb as the demon continued to jab at the air. There were windows on the right side of the minotaur, showing the drop from outside. The angry winds had slowed, only a breeze carrying the wind. It wandered into the stairwell, creating the temperature to drop to below freezing. The minotaur didn't notice, though, since his body sweat provided an instance warmth blanket.

At the last step of the tower, Manelau looked back. The Afrit disappeared a few steps back, perhaps decided it wasn't worth it to chase a thing like himself. He sighed, leaning against the nearest wall. He felt the pain in his lower back slightly coming back. The minotaur shifted before looking around the room he was in. A broken table with small glass bottles neatly laid. A messy bed with white covers and yellow bedsheet. On the northern wall, were weapons of different sorts.

Where the hell am I?



"Mistakes are portals of discovery. Did you know that?" an old lizard with flowy golden robes, was staring out a stone hole. He was talking to no one in particular; maybe the shadows that hid in the corners of the bookshelves and knives. The lizard moved away from the window to a table. On the table were three gold knives, each ranging in different size.

"Perhaps somebody will discover this," the lizard stated, picking up a small knife. He turned it around in his scaly hand. The lizard then stabbed it into the table, flecks of wood peeling off.



The minotaur moved slowly around the room. It was like back at that prison; boredom settled in. He gazed at the hanging weapons on the wall, touching them lightly before moving away. There was an uneasy feeling in the room; the kind you might get after watching a horror movie. It lingered in the back of his mind, as well. He didn't know exactly what he was doing here; just thinking about it sent him groaning. There was a purpose and he didn't know it. Perhaps he would need a good luck charm to remember.
The minotaur countlessly argued with himself about thinking (or at least, trying) to remember. Did the Maze say something about it? Or was he just here?

It was an hour later that the minotaur gave up, resting on the bed. He counted the different wood knots of the tree. Lazily, he gave up. Manelau turned to his side, gazing at the different weapons. Why are there so many killing objects here? he thought, slowly sitting up in the bed. There must be a reason as to why there are.



The old lizard continued to hack into the old wood desk, stabbing and carving. Wood splinters sprung out and landed softly on the floor. He stopped a few minutes later, moving around the room before stopping at the stone hole. It was large but not large enough that somebody could possibly break in. He liked it that way; the view from the ground had caused an illusion to passers that it was perfectly safe to climb to (although he was on the last floor of the building, people were stupid enough to surpass the blizzard and embark on climbing the walls).

A clatter. A soft owh. The lizard blinked, unmoving.

"I wonder who that might be," he said cooly.



The minotaur tried leaning against a wall. A sturdy wall, so he thought. It crashed causing a dozen or soon weapons to crash and pages to fly. He groaned, rubbing his head.

"You're quite clumsy, Mr. RiTimm." A voice echoed inside his head. Manelau groaned once again, realizing the voice.

You do know I hate you, right?

"The feeling is mutual."

What do you want?

"Just here to observe, that's all. Also to remind you of the Page."

A Page? What Pag-

"You weren't paying attention, were you, Mr. RiTimm? Simple: you need to collect a special Page for me."

Like this one? The minotaur rolled over on his side, picking up a white sheet. There were scribbles on it. He could hear the Maze sighing.

"No, no. It needs to be special. Like magical and whatnot."

And where exactly do I find this "special" page? The Maze chuckled.

"That's for me to know and for you to find out." Such as the white noise he heard before, the Maze's voice was gone.

"I really hate that guy."

Manelau looked around the room, in any hope of finding a single page. What page? There were white papers, papers stacked neatly on corner of the table, and some were pushed into a small yellow folder. Within a few minutes (with some careful pulling), started looking for this "paper". He didn't even what it looked like. The minotaur was helpless.



The lizard with the golden robes walked down the hallway. He was calm, much like a growing storm. He was ready. For whatever was in his path. He stopped in front of the door that lead into the study. He felt the gold dagger on his fingers, as he opened the door. A minotaur, with red fur and grey pants, was on the floor stacking papers. The lizard turned his head to the side. That's the intruder?



Manelau hadn't heard the lizard come in. Thousand or so papers and he couldn't find it. He had said a few magical words here and there, added some hope, and pushed down anger. He was stressed over a single piece of paper. As he was stacking the pieces of the paper, he heard a cough. Slowly (and triedly), Manelau turned his head. A lizard in gold robes, red eyes were shadowed with confusion, and scaly claws were placed neatly at his sides.

"What are you doing here?" the lizard calmly asked. The minotaur stood up, his knees cracking as he sighed.

"Well, some person told me to find a magical page and I can't find it. So, I'm busy cleaning up the place in hopes of finding a magical page. I know, I know. It sounds crazy. But you know how crazy things are, right?" the minotaur stated. He didn't know where he was going with this. Manelau was buying time. The lizard blinked.

"You know this counts as invasion, right?" Manelau nodded. "You know what leads from invasions, right?" Once again, Manelau nodded. The lizard sighed. Why can't the younger ones leave me alone? The lizard then pulled out the gold dagger, pointing it towards the minotaur. Manelau only reminded the same, crossing his arms.

"It leads to wars. Somebody always dies in a war. When I'm done with you, you'll be the one dead." Manelau grunted.

"First off, you're a lizard. Weak and snappable. Secondly, you don't have any muscle whatsoever. Thirdly," Manelau raced forward. Before the lizard could move out of the way, the minotaur pinned him up against a wall. "You're too slow, old man. Now tell me where you keep your damn magical papers so I can leave before I kill you." The lizard nodded fast, as Manelau let him go. He quickly walked over to his desk retrieving a black piece of paper with white lettering.

"H-here." The minotaur took the piece of paper and shoved it into his pant pocket. "Thanks. Now I need something to remind me of how weak and stupid you are." The lizard's eye widened then softened. "You remind me of someone."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. You see, some time ago this guy that came into town once. Nobody knows him or whatnot. I personally got to know him. His name was Zyreli. He had helped everyone in town, picking up the fallen apples and helping in the kitchen here and there. At the same time, however, he was stubborn. He wanted things and would do incredible tasks just to retrieve these objects. Much like you.

"Anyway, one day, Zyreli just disappears. It was two weeks since we last saw him, and I'm afraid the worse has come over him. Death. Hung. The possibilities are endless. That was until we receive a note last week and it said something along the lines of 'enslavement', which a horrible form of punishment, if you ask me, " the lizard explained. Manelau frowned. "That's nice and all, but frankly I don't give a damn. Now," the minotaur looked around the room. He spotted the golden dagger the lizard had dropped. "Do you mind if I take this?"



The snowstorm was back but lighter. As the minotaur exited the tower, he could hear the lizard giving up an assortment of curse words. They strung together like a melody. Soon the cussing had died down as the minotaur was in the eye of the storm. Around him were creatures. Hungry, bloodthirsty creatures. They blended with the snow storm. They snickered as they circled their prey. The minotaur was unaware of this. Luckily enough, thanks to years of training with fighting, he was ready.

As he made it towards the middle of the storm, he heard a voice. A soft but harsh voice. It was calling his name. Manelau sighed. Not this again.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" A chirpy voice sang. Manelau turned his view towards a girl with red skin. Long black hair blow in the wind, looking like smoke. "Hello, prey." At the end of her hands were giant silver claws, glistening in the sliver sunlight.

The minotaur frowned. Before he could even ask, the woman ran behind him and held a silver claw to his throat. "I'm going to have you for dinner. Since you seem, it is winter and I am awfully hungry." Manelau rolled his eyes. He didn't like to hurt woman, but did enjoy their shouts when he was on the Stomping Ground. "Aren't you going to fight back, minotaur?"

He grunted, feeling for the gold dagger in his pocket. If I stab her in the stomach, she might go away. He fumbled with the dagger, the sharp edge digging into his palm. The minotaur turned around the woman hands and faced her and smiled.

"I'm afraid I can't fight back with such a pretty lady like yourself."

"You don't even know my name."

"I bet it'll be best if I didn't." He then aimed the knife between his stomach and hers, and leaned forward whispering in her ear. "But you'll remember mine." The red skinned lady's eye widen as she felt the dagger's edge cut into the middle of the stomach. Her arms fell to the side of her as she fell to the snowy ground. Manelau grinned, leaving the dagger in her stomach. What to do with a dead body? He looked through the snow storm, that had lessen over the course of time, and saw a cliff. Just below the cliff was the Sea of Silence. I could throw her in there.

With such ease and carefulness, the minotaur picked up the lady and walked over to the cliff. He then stopped and overlooked it. Though the snowstorm was light and windy, he could see the setting sun. Pink and purple were painted across the sky. A splash. Running away.



He ran out of the snowstorm and into the same pasture he came into contact a few hours (days?) ago. There was a night sky overhead, with different sorts of stars. Twinkling. The minotaur ran to the door and with a huge pull, opened it. The room was darker and colder than before but it didn't bother him. He cleared his mind.

Maze? Maze!

"What?"

"So, I got your... magical Paper.

"I know."

You know?

"Yes. I saw the whole thing. The lizard. You stabbing that lady, which in my opinion, is very low for a person much like yourself." Manelau grunted.

Don't remind me. So, what do I do with this paper?

"Simple. Press it into one of these walls that are around you-

Any one of these walls?

"Correct." Manelau walked towards the nearest wall, and placed the paper on it. Nothing happened.

What's going on?

"Oh. I forgot to mention it has to be a certain wall, not just one you pick."

That could've helped me. The Maze chuckled.

"So would've that knife but you see what you did with it?" White noise filled his head as the minotaur sighed. He closed his eyes and thought of the room. It was pretty and dancing with colorful shadows. His mind decided upon the farthest wall, to the corner of the room. Manelau walked promptly to the wall and stuck the paper there. Within a few minutes, a bright light broke through the cracks of the walls as a hand grabbed the minotaur by the wrist and dragged him in.

Not this again.

Answering the sea-lions’ riddles had been extremely boring, but not boring enough to make him lethargic. Not that he trusted the relative safety of the lounge in which he currently sat – it might have seemed like the Maze was trying to accommodate the Champions while they weren’t actively struggling for survival, but he suspected it was simply a trick to lull them into a false sense of security.

After he had stepped through the door the Key of Passing had unlocked, Lysander had found himself in a small space with a crawlspace before him. After he had crept through unceremoniously, he entered a quaint room furnished with oak and decorated in scarlet and gold. Banners and tapestries of a golden lion against a scarlet backdrop hung on the windowless walls, and similar rugs adorned the floor in the various sitting areas. Desks and bookshelves lined some of the corners, a fireplace crackled merrily beside the entrance, and on the opposite side of the room, two flights of stairs led upwards. Lysander had discovered the one led to numerous empty dormitories (in the same style as the lounge, obviously), but the other refused to allow him to ascend, for the stairs disappeared and were replaced with a slide each time he tried. After that, he had plopped on a sofa beside the fireplace and scowled at the flames.

His gaze drifted absently across the room, registering for the fifth time how out of place everything was in a maze that had “Implicit” in its name. He had asked the cornflower (a pun on “maize” that amused more than annoyed the Maze, much to Lysander’s frustration) multiple times as to the reason for the lounge’s existence, but silence was always the response.

Lysander flicked his tail, irked at being ignored, but grateful for an open-backed sofa – an unheard-of piece of furniture, to be sure – and scowled at the fireplace again. It was then that he noticed a yellow paper stuck above it; a paper that hadn’t been there before…

He rose and plucked it off. The calligraphy was far neater and precise than any he had ever seen before. In fact, every letter was identical to its brethren, which should have been impossible, had anyone but the Maze created it. Big surprise.

Sticky Note #1 wrote:This is a sticky note – an invention of another world. They are quite useful for leaving reminders in places one frequents. They can also serve as warnings, notifications, etc. If located strategically, they can even act as metaphorical breadcrumbs. (The reference is of a folktale from the same world in which these originated, so don’t be confused if you don’t get it.)

“I wonder if he’s this way with the others too,” Lysander mused, looking around for another of the notes. Sure enough, there was one attached to the armrest of the couch opposite him.

Sticky Note #2 wrote:You find yourself in a tower of a once prestigious but now derelict institute of magic. Many young souls gathered here during its heyday, celebrating victories, mourning losses, sharing fears… You ought to feel honoured to be lodged in such a noble house’s common room. Some of the other Champions had to be content with dank floors and cold hallways.

The draconic hybrid scoffed and turned around, scanning for another note. He found one attached to the back of a chair.

Sticky Note #3 wrote:I couldn’t see a building filled with so much tradition and memory go to waste, so the entire castle (though the resident spirits have been evicted) now resides safely within my unfathomably large interior. Almost like Dante and the Leviathan, but less sinister and disgusting.

What? He was tiring of the lesson in interplanar history. There was clearly a point, however obscure, but it was nevertheless tedious. If he’d wanted to learn more about the supposed “institute” in which he was, he’d have read one of the books in the shelves. So when he spotted the next note attached to a thick, black book tucked in the folds of the bookshelf beside the desk, he groaned and plucked the yellow paper off the book’s spine.

Sticky Note #4 wrote:As you will learn, in time – granted you survive, of course; already, your number has been reduced to twenty-one – I am a collector of many things. Powerful artefacts, beautiful gems… and mystic tomes. One such tome is the Black Book of Azz’t, a codex of unimaginable knowledge and power. Twenty pages have been removed from it, and so, you and the other Champions will fetch them for me.

Finally, Lysander was provided with a reason for the notes. Since the last one was taped to the big, black book, he assumed the next would be inside. Realisation dawned upon him, and he wondered, eyes wide and mouth agape, why the Maze would leave insignificant messages in such a priceless volume. Then common sense gave him a wake-up slap and he glowered. The pages were blank, though another note was indeed attached to the first page.

Sticky Note #5 wrote:As the previous Trial demonstrated, there are many who serve me. Their doings, coupled with my influence, have resulted in my being able to orchestrate certain events aeons before they occur. One such example is how I arranged for ten pages to be located in the Command Tower, and the ten other in the Reliquary Tower. Both towers are located in a plane void of magical bonds with ours, so observing you planeswalk will be more enjoyable than the previous time (though many seem to have copied your method in one way or another). Bring back a page, and you will survive to live and die another day.

Lysander sighed, but not in an unhappy way. “I guess that means my break is over.”

He replaced the book on the shelf, and headed back to the sofa to collect his bag, when he saw a last note on the seat.

Sticky Note #6 wrote:PS: You may choose either of the towers, but whichever your choice, you can expect a greater challenge than that posed by the sea-lions. Have fun.

“Hah, I’ll try.”

Lysander focussed on tearing the spatial curtain between Ravnica and the other plane, concentrating only on the name of his destination, but his claw only sunk in an inch. Where the curtain had previously torn like paper, it was as thick as wood. Even so, his claws were stronger, sharper than ordinary wood, so he simply yanked his one claw free and gripped the fabric of space with both hands. He gave an almighty tug, but nothing happened. He tried again, that time maintaining the force, and slowly, sunlight began streaming in through the rift. He grunted and pulled with all his force.

As if he was the last rain needed to break the dam, the curtain’s resistance ceased and it ripped viciously. Triumphant and grinning, he climbed through. The Maze had said it would be ill-advised to leave a rift open, since anyone could climb through, but Lysander’s arms throbbed with pain. If he could avoid physical exertion, he would, and closing the rift would require too much effort.

Putting the rift out of mind, he immediately groaned. An all-too-familiar roar sounded on the rocks below him, and the fog that feebly attempted to disguise the environment moistened his lips with the taste of salt. That was twice already that he had to complete a Trial next to the ocean. Why couldn’t he be sent to a forest with a nice, large lake in it? He could swim well enough, so even an underwater challenge wouldn’t be a bother.

Lysander stretched his wings, flapping them tentatively at first. After that, he flapped them more powerfully and began to rise. The fog was thick, but it wouldn’t be thick enough to keep him ignorant of his surroundings. As he rose above the bank, a dark ocean glimmered before him. He snorted and turned around, almost colliding with a beige wall. Startled, he stopped flying and began plummeting. He was in no danger of falling and hurting himself, since he could regain his altitude easily, but he automatically grabbed on to a windowsill in the panic of the moment.

The frame above him contained a lovely painted glass window – a window not lovely enough to prevent him from smashing it and pushing himself through with a gust of momentum created with his wings. He rose, dusting the tiny shards of glass off his backpack and removing the ones embedded in his skin. Gazing back out the window and looking first down, then up, he saw the Reliquary Tower was quite large. There was no sight of the Command Tower, but his vista was of the ocean. The other tower would likely be on the opposite side of the building, then.

Lysander pulled his head back inside and surveyed he room. The walls were constructed from the same marble or sandstone as the outside of the tower, accentuating that it was the more magical of the two structures. He didn’t mind, since mages generally didn’t expect a draconic plant hybrid that could boil or cook you. Surprise would be his advantage.

There were many books scattered throughout the room, making it seem like some waiting or personal reading area. Lysander took each individually and shook them to see if any loose papers wafted out. When none did, he simply dropped the current book and moved on to the next. By the time every volume in the room had been rudely checked and discarded, the hybrid was frustrated and empty-handed to boot.

Ordinarily, he’d have drenched the room and stormed out, but since he wasn’t in Zameck anymore, he quietly opened the door, peeked outside, and relocated to the room to his right. It looked very similar to the first room, but with a few minor differences. Infuriatingly, it also had no loose pages lying around.

“Forget looking for a needle in a haystack – this is like looking for a needle among the crates of needles of a needle shipment.” He kicked one of the books across the floor for good measure. “I can’t even go to the library, since someone has most likely already been there.”

He collapsed onto one of the chairs and pondered his situation. So, there were ten pages in the wretched tower, and none of those were likely to be hidden in the same place… The library would be everyone’s target, so he’d have to settle for something else. He could “ask” one of the mages for assistance, but hostages rarely provided an advantage and only served as impediments. Whoever was in charge of the place was bound to have a page in his/her/its possession, but that was likely another conclusion somebody else could make. Ugh.

Where would he hide a page from a tome of knowledge inside a place called the “Reliquary Tower”? Well, if the name was anything by which to go, there would be more than just books in the place. The Maze was an antiquities collector, so to speak, which was why it wanted the pages. (It probably had the rest of the book already, but everybody knew a whole grimoire was more powerful than a partial one.) It would keep that book and those pages somewhere safe inside itself. A vault, as it were. All collectors were the same; they either hid their possessions from prying eyes, or they displayed them for all to see.

A vault was likely to be at the very top of the tower, with a gallery at the very bottom. Unfortunately, both were likely to be very well-guarded. Hmm. What if…? Yes, perhaps… Some collectors liked to keep their precious artefacts safe, but they didn’t want to hide them away, per se. The compromise? A private room where only the collector’s eyes could be laid upon his treasures. Such a room would almost certainly be at the tower’s summit.

Lysander grinned and rose from the chair. Repeating his routine from earlier, he re-entered the room that had granted him access to the tower and stepped onto the sill again. He carefully manoeuvred his way out, gripping the walls for balance. Once his back was facing away from the tower, he flapped his wings and slowly ascended.

He was no owl, so his flapping would draw the attention of any mages in the rooms occupying the floors above him. Thus, he planned a route upwards, always sticking close to the walls. He was meticulous, and his caution was rewarded with an uninterrupted ascent. Only once he reached a balcony at the floor two below the sprawling roof, did he disband his stealth.

It was a mistake, for a head appeared outside the window several floors below him. Lysander cursed under his breath and grasped the railing, pulling himself over while ceasing his flight. He couldn’t know whether he had been discovered, as he dared not to check, but the last glimpse he’d caught of the mage had revealed him to be looking further down. Lysander imagined hearing voices, but they were probably just that: imaginary; a fabrication of his paranoid mind.

Rising slowly, he decided to finish as quickly as possible, lest he be discovered and his mission become unnecessarily complicated. However, he couldn’t simply smash the balcony door like he had the painted glass window, since who knew what kinds of wards guarded the collection. He stepped closer and gazed through the little windows in the door, just to be sure that it actually was what he expected it to be. When he saw numerous glass cases inside, a sigh of relief escaped his mouth. Still, he had to get inside first.

Lysander hoped it was his lucky day and tried the doorknob, but of course, the door remained closed. After he had committed the act, it occurred to him how ridiculously foolish he had been, since even just doing that might have set off a silent alarm. Throwing caution to the wind completely – and the wind up there was rather strong – he held his palm over the lock and covered it in boiling water. When nothing happened, he muttered, bent down, and fired a beam of light from his antlers. The lock glowed a satisfactory red before seeping down the frame.

As if wanting to assist him, the aforementioned powerful wind blasted the doors open, shattering the little windows and spectacularly announcing Lysander’s arrival. He turned around, made a mock bow to the wind, and entered the room, shaking his head in contempt.

The display cases showcased many beautiful items, ranging from a delicate vase to a sinister dagger and a small, golden idol. They were all quite impressive, but one piece of jewellery in particular caught his eye. He stepped towards the glass prison and lovingly admired the precious stone within. What he had mistaken for a necklace was actually a hexagonal silver tablet that framed a midnight blue star-sapphire. The gem was perfectly circular and had a diameter of about six inches. The six arms of the star reached out to the six corners of the silver hexagon around it.

“Mesmerising, isn’t it?”

Lysander was startled from his avarice-induced reverie and spun around to face the source of the voice. It was an old man clad in maroon and grey robes, a stereotypical sage. Of course, the “sage” before him was probably not the kind to share advice, much less his most prized possessions.

“Quite,” he answered, unperturbed. “It should be a sin to keep it locked away like this.”

“It’s a sin to keep anything as enrapturing as these treasures locked away,” the man said in a rich, sonorous voice befitting of his archetype, “but there are too many greedy hands that would spirit them away without a second’s hesitation. Although, only a few others have ever made it this far. I’d applaud you, but I don’t condone crime, least of all burglary.”

Lysander shrugged and spread his palms outwards. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, his voice free of mockery, but his facial features full of it, “but I can be either a burglar or a robber.”

“I choose the third option – you can be a corpse.”

The hybrid laughed derisively. “If that’s your choice, then so be it, but you’d like to continue collecting things, wouldn’t you? If you go ahead with this decision, the only thing you’ll be collecting is dust on your bones.”

“Or perhaps I’ll collect your head and place it in a container of its own; I have seen many dryads, but never anything as extraordinary as you. A hybrid with the body of a dragon, the antlers of a stag, the wings of an angel, the subtle features of some mammalian predator, and the tissue of a plant… You would make a spectacular addition indeed. Perhaps having you stuffed would work better; I happen to know an exceptional taxidermist.”

Lysander was slightly disturbed by the man’s statement. He had a thick skin, so if it had been an insult or a taunt, it would have been like water on a duck’s back, but the old man was serious. He really did want to add the dragon’s head to his collection… The man seemed to pick up on the intruder’s newfound reservation, but a bored look crossed his face.

“Ah, I see – yet another empty can. As much as I’d like to make an example of you already, I first have some questions.”

“What makes you think I’ll answer them?”

“You’ll do it both for my curiosity and for yours. It always works that way.”

“What could you possibly know that would be of any interest to me?”

“I know that the Implicit Dragon Maze sent you here, and I know that it seeks something other than that tablet, though I have no doubt it wouldn’t mind having it anyway. No, it seeks something more powerful. It seeks a page from the Black Book.”

The shock was so great, Lysander actually took a step back. “How?”

“You are but a seed in a jungle, and there are some rather ancient trees with which you share it. I do not claim to be one of them, nor do I even claim to be a Planeswalker like you, but I do claim to know quite a bit. I shall answer your question, but you must answer one of mine first.”

Lysander narrowed his eyes into suspicious slits. “What’s the question?”

“How did you come to be? I’m not an expert on draconic history, but you are the first plant dragon of which I have heard.”

The concerned plant dragon folded his arms in front of his chest. “An experiment created me.”

He had meant to be stingy with the details, and he had been, but the collector seemed to fill in the blanks himself, almost as if Lysander had said more than enough.

“Of course! Ravnica is home to the Simic Combine, both famous and infamous for its breeding pools. It must have been some experiment indeed to have a being such as you as a result.”

“I’m glad you think that,” Lysander scoffed.

“Oh?” The old man’s gaze rose to above Lysander’s head and quickly descended, as if he was scanning him. “Oh. Tell me, if you consider yourself incomplete, why do you display your deformity openly? Your false bravado heavily implies hidden insecurities, yet I cannot understand why you would flaunt your flaws if you are ashamed of them. Perhaps your desire for conformity is subconsciously outweighed by your need for individuality…”

Lysander jabbed his right index finger at the man and said angrily, “It doesn’t concern you, and now it’s my turn. How did you know the Maze had sent me?”

The old man laughed. “Oh, that little labyrinth thinks it’s so smart, and granted, it is, but it’s also predictable. What other entity could be responsible for sending multiple Planeswalkers at a time to specific locations? When I first heard the library had been invaded, I ascribed it to fate. When it saw violence a second time in one day and I heard Misfortune had been attacked as well, I knew fate was not responsible for this, but the Maze. I realise the irony in calling the Maze predictable yet not being able to predict the assault on the tower, but overconfidence makes any personal assault come as a surprise.

“Nevertheless, I was able to anticipate your arrival, so you and your fellow Champions no longer have the advantage of surprise. The tower is on full alert. I waited here, concealed, knowing that someone would attempt to steal from me; lo and behold, here you are. But that is explanation enough; it is now again my turn for a question: Why are you here?”

“I thought you already knew the answer to that question.”

“I deduced that you and the three others – if more haven’t been here already – are Planeswalkers, as there is no other way to come and go so quickly without being noticed. Moreover, I assumed you were here for the page, since the only two in the library have been stolen. The Maze always selects Planeswalkers as its Champions, and everyone must complete the same Trial; therefore, I suspect the Maze is responsible. I still need confirmation of the fact, so I shall ask you again: Why are you here?”

“I am here for the Star Sapphire.”

“Don’t lie to me. Before you came here, you had no idea the Star of Draco even existed, so it cannot possibly be what you seek. Tell me the truth.”

Lysander raised his eyebrows in unimpressed indifference. “Why? I’ve already heard everything I needed to hear. I don’t have to tell you a thing.”

“Oh, but you haven’t heard everything I have to say. Think of all the things you could ask me. Answer my questions with candour, and I shall reciprocate.”

“Fine. Ye–”

“No,” the man said, slashing sideways with his hand, cutting Lysander off, “I remedy my question. Why did the Maze send you to retrieve the page?”

“What? You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can, and I interrupted you before you could answer, so you still have to answer my question. My current question.”

“Forget it. The deal’s off.”

“I think not. Even if you–”

“Look, dude, just shut up. There is nothing you can say or do to make me answer your questions.”

Lysander could see the man panicking. Wow, he really was obsessed with collecting things, even if it was knowledge, and not knowing the answer would literally drive the man insane. Suddenly, he saw something brown fly past him and towards the sage. When its strap appeared in the man’s hand, he realised what he had seen.

“Hey, that’s my bag!”

“Clearly, which is why I’ve taken it. I can destroy this–” he shook the bag, “–with a flick of my wrist, so if you will not answer my question for an answer in return, you will answer it for this. Speak now.”

“Bastard! Yes, the Maze sent me for the page. Now, give it back!”

“I told you to answer my remedied question. Last chance.”

Lysander strode around the display case in frustration. “Damn you! I’m here to take the page back because if I don’t, I’ll die, just like the other pathetic sods!”

“That’s why you are here. I asked why the Maze sent you here, and don’t tell me it’s for you to complete its Trial. You are but dirt to it – dirt it uses to fertilise the soil that is its plots. Surely, you must know something?”

“How the hell should I know what the Maze wants?! It’s a deranged, sadistic, messed-up son of brick!”

The man shook his head. “It seems I have overestimated your value to me. Here, take your possessions–” he tossed the bag to Lysander, who snatched it out of the air, “–though they won’t do you any good once you’re dead. Before you die, understand this one thing, foolish boy: the Maze seeks only to advance itself. If it sent you here, it’s because I have something it wants.”

“It’s not just you who has a page, you self-centred ass! There are nineteen other pages, and all of them are in these two damned towers.”

“All twenty are… they’re here?” the man asked in absolute horror. “All twenty… one page is power, but you only seek all the lost pages if you already have the book! And… dear gods, the probability of all the lost pages being located in twin towers are small enough to be non-existent, so the Maze ¬– it planted them here!”

The man’s suddenly ashen complexion made him look like he was on Death’s doorstep. Lysander himself found the news shocking, but to be honest, it was to be expected. He wondered why the man considered it so earth-shattering, when the man’s face grew red and he pointed at him accusingly.

“You Champions are more than just unwilling pawns, you’re unwilling queens! The Maze could have gathered the pages aeons ago already, but instead, it bided its time, waiting for a convenient opportunity to do more than just claim what it already considers its own. That opportunity is now; getting the pages is simply a secondary goal – the primary was always the decimation of the Command and Reliquary Towers!”

“Aren’t you reading more into this than is really the case?” Lysander asked nonchalantly.

“This is the Implicit Dragon Maze, you imbecile! It is both capable of overt hostility and secret plots of sabotage! It is one of the most dangerous entities in the universe, and the more time passes, the more dangerous it becomes. It is immortal and invulnerable, so the only way to remove its power it is to remove its means of attaining it. In this case, that means you and every other Planeswalker on their way here. This conversation is over. You must die.”

Lysander knew the man was serious that time, but he had little time to react, for he was suddenly blasted off his feet and flung against the far wall. Miraculously, the glass display cases had remained intact. They were probably protected against magic.

“You messed with the wrong dragon, jerk,” he said, pushing off against the wall.

The man snorted and made to throw another wave of psychic energy at him, but Lysander fired a ray of sunlight from his antlers first. It struck the man with the sound of a very large bubble, probably a magical shield, popping and a flash of bright light. The collector flew out the room and struck the railings of the balcony.

“I had not expected that, I’ll admit,” he said as Lysander approached, “and that is certainly a great advantage in combat, but I’ve had years of experience in battling foes far more powerful than you.”

“Yeah, somehow I get the feeling that’s something we Champions are going to hear quite a lot,” Lysander responded sardonically.

The man raised his hand and directed the whirling winds to strike the dragon, easily knocking him off the railing. It took some effort, but Lysander simply flew back up to the balcony.

“These wings aren’t just decorations, you know,” he said, dodging a fireball. “I can actually fly – unlike you.”

He grabbed the man and pulled him over the railing. The man gasped and clung to the draconic plant for dear life, but Lysander simply dribbled a little boiling water on him, which was sufficient to let the parasite scream and release him.

“Bye-bye. Enjoy the view while it lasts.”

As the man shot past storey after storey, he grabbed something around his neck. Lysander had no idea what good it would do him, but a few seconds later, it was made resoundingly clear. Though he couldn’t see too much detail, having hovered at the same height, he could see a third pair of limbs emerging from the man’s back. They quickly branched outwards and enlarged, along with the rest of the collector’s body. While his skin turned red, a tail also appeared and grew. Just before he reached the third storey, the man was a man no more and flew back up to the tower’s summit, landing on the roof.

“How…?” was all Lysander could manage.

“Twice now, you have asked me that, and for the second time, I shall say that you cannot possibly comprehend the bigger picture.” As a dragon, the man’s voice was even more booming than before. His scales were glowing coals, his eyes burned like malicious embers, and his claws radiated heat, as if it was freshly pulled from a blacksmith’s forge. “Oh, and it seems I have proven you wrong, for I can fly after all. Do you have any last wishes before your mind and body fall to mine?”

Regaining his usual confidence, Lysander replied, “I’m resistant to fire, you know.”

“While that may be either truth or lies, it matters little. No plant can survive dragonfire.”

“We’ll see about that. You’re not the only one with an ace up his… whatever, I don’t have sleeves.”

The dragon made a barking noise that suspiciously resembled laughter. “I am tempted to let you live a while longer, if only for the amusement of seeing what you could possibly do to defeat me.”

Lysander flew some distance away before stopping and facing the transformed collector again.

“Do I intimidate you?” the dragon called, roaring with laughter.

“I gave you some space,” the hybrid shouted back. “And trust me, you’re going to need it.”

Lysander reached inside his mind and heart and opened the sluices that kept his hatred at bay. No longer restrained, his Draconic Rage flowed through his veins and filled every inch of his body. He himself was unaware of his appearance after the transformation, for a primal glint filled his eyes, as it did each time he changed. Lysander the broken experiment was no longer present – a savage, utterly bestial creature took charge instead.

Its wings lost its former grace and became more rugged, more angular. As they expanded, so did its body, in much the same way that of the dumbstruck dragon on the tower roof had. Its spine shifted and the vertebrae realigned themselves to accommodate a horizontal body. Its muzzle elongated too, many more of the vicious thorns appearing within its maw. In the end, the change wasn’t too dramatic, but it was certainly frightening.

The red dragon gazed in amazement at the green abomination that hovered several yards away from him. “You truly are a wellspring of surprises. It’s as if you have a counter for everything I do. Nevertheless, fire devours plants with no effort at all. I am larger, older, and more powerful than you. It is certainly a great pity, but your vessel will be a smouldering wreck in five minutes.”

In response, the green beast growled. The sound slowly swelled until its entire body was shaking. Finally, it let forth a roar that could make trees quake and propelled itself forwards. The red dragon had expected as much and breathed a stream of fire at the oncoming target. However, the beast had instinct on its side and did a barrel-roll to its right, easily dodging the flames. Snarling, it fired ray of sunlight that seared even the very air around it. The red dragon, in his arrogance, had not bothered to put up another shield – his eyes paid the price.

Cutting off the torrent, he roared in agony and clapped a paw to his right eye. The socket was empty, with little more than a layer of moisture, blood, and burnt flesh to prove the cavity was ever anything but hollow. His curses were cut short when a massive green body slammed into him and knocked him from the tower’s roof.

The two dragons were a tangle of flailing limbs as they toppled off the cinereous tiles. Claws of hot iron raked at the frenzied hybrid’s body, but it scratched back with talons of steel. It used the momentum generated from the freefall to its advantage by using its tail as a rudder and its wings as an engine to steer them towards the tower. Once they were close, it spun around, did a full rotation, and threw the other dragon against the tower.

Windows shattered, stones tumbled, and walls gave way as the red lizard carved through the building’s side like a warm knife through butter. He slid several storeys before launching himself away, wavering like a bee in the rain. He heard the possessed creature’s dive and barely managed to avoid being smashed to pieces. He issued another blaze from his mouth, and that time, it caught the monster on its wing. Enraged even further, said monster ascended in a spiral before meeting the fire with a deluge of boiling water. The red dragon’s petty inferno fizzed away, allowing the water to penetrate into his mouth.

He took off once more, but, probably for the first time in his life, he was terrified. Moving at a speed accessible only by a being that feared for its life, he cut through the sky, hoping to avoid the onslaught of the fiend behind it. Of course, the draconic hybrid sensed its prey was fleeing, so it set off in hot pursuit, slowly catching up. It showered its weakened quarry with wave after wave of the scalding liquid, ignoring the futile bursts of heat that came from below.

The two circled the tower faster and faster and eventually took the sky far above the tower, but still, the red dragon could not lose the green one. Its formerly glowing scales had turned a sooty black and the delicate membranes of its wings were covered in burst blisters. With the gashes in his sides and belly bleeding, his empty eye socket weeping scarlet, and his resolve broken, he made one last attempt at survival.

“Have mercy, you devil!” he shrieked, his remaining eye filled with tears of pain and trepidation. “Take the page, damn it! Take whatever you want, just let me live!”

The hybrid merely answered with a bellow and thrust itself upwards, grabbing the other dragon and pulling him down with a violent jerk. It bit at his neck and slashed at his sides, but it could not reach the throat. Then, for a moment, the beast was gone and something else was back. Just as suddenly, the beast returned and clenched the now-unconscious dragon’s throat in a vice grip. It was about to rip out the jugular and carotid arteries when the other entity returned and drove the animal from his mind. Lysander noticed the tower’s swiftly approaching roof and directed their bodies towards it. With an almighty crash, they fell through and came to rest on a bed of glass shards and splintered wood. Miraculously, they hadn’t penetrated through the floor of the top storey.

Lysander’s body began to return to its normal size, but as it did, the rush he had felt upon transforming was replaced by a bone-weary exhaustion. As a terrible creature with a potential for great devastation, he was powerful and almost unrestricted by the limits of his magic. However, the price for it was steep – for the next fifteen hours, he would be extremely weak, both physically and magically, as well as unable to heal himself.

The red dragon had also ceased to be a dragon and was becoming a man again. Apparently, his clothes had changed along with him, for they were only damaged in the areas where Lysander had attacked him. Then again, that was everywhere, so the man’s clothes were tattered and bloody. It was hardly more than rags. The man himself was in equally worse condition. He looked dead, but his chest moved. If he was breathing, he was alive, even if his innumerable wounds would cause exsanguination in a few minutes.

The hybrid rested his head against the splintered display case for a minute or two before examining his own wounds. His wing was singed, but it was just a first degree burn. What worried him the most was the slices across his body. They weren’t life-threatening, but the man had managed to do reasonable damage during his struggle. Well, there was nothing he could do about it, so he’d just have to bandage it once he got back to the Maze and hope for the best.

Rummaging in his bag, he produced one of the jars of bugs and gorged himself on the juicy beetles. Once it was empty, he flung it aside and called, “Hey, dude! If you don’t wake up, you’re going to die.”

The man groaned. “I should be dead already. Why aren’t I?”

“You’re welcome.”

The man, who had lain on his side, turned his head so he could see the dragon. “Throughout the battle – no, “battle” is too generous; throughout the massacre – you were a veritable demon intent on taking my life. When I begged for mercy, you lunged at me and tried to rip my throat out. Everything turned black and I thought for sure you had killed me. And yet… here I am, still alive.” He accidentally moved his leg and screamed in agony. “Alive for now, at least. So, why didn’t you do it?”

Lysander was tired. “If I answer your question, will you answer mine?”

The man coughed out what vaguely resembled a laugh. “Now you want to go along with it? Very well, ask whatever you like. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway.” He gazed upwards once more, gasping in pain.

“I didn’t kill you because I’m not a murderer.”

The man mumbled something inaudible. “I’d stare at you incredulously if I could, but I don’t have enough energy left to move my head. I probably only imagined what you just said, since you were going to do far more than merely murder me. How, then, can you claim otherwise?”

“It was never my intent to kill you. That wasn’t… Whatever.”

When the man remained silent, Lysander called him again. “I’m still here,” he answered.

“You better be. How did you turn into a dragon?”

“I used a Dra… a Dragon Talisman.”

“Was that the thing around your neck?”

“Yes. Dragon Talismans contain the imprisoned soul of a dragon. Whoever wears the talisman and invokes the name of the captured dragon… then transforms into them. In this case, it was Vyren S’nd.”

He stopped for a minute, unable to speak owing to the anguish his wounds caused. Lysander felt a pang of guilt, surprising himself.

“You know,” the man resumed after a while, his voice far from resonant, as it had been earlier, “well, you don’t, but anyway – I think you know more… ugh, my ability… coherent speech is leaving me. I think… had more experience with… than aware.”

“I’m sorry, what? I didn’t hear everything you said.”

The man tried again, strained. “I said I think… more… your condition… know. Tired… sleep now.”

Lysander realised the collector was dying, and he had not yet heard everything he needed to. “Hey, we’re not done talking!”

When the man didn’t respond, Lysander dragged himself across the floor, ignoring the searing protest his body made. He carefully placed his right index and middle fingers on the man’s neck. There was no pulse.

“You don’t get to die yet,” he said stubbornly. Holding his palms above the man, he drew from his inner water supply to power a Healing Surge. He directed the blue mana into the man, but the problem with healing magic was that it never worked immediately, despite popular belief. Thus, Lysander was pouring everything he still had in him into either a man on the brink of death, or a corpse. He wouldn’t know until several hours had passed, so there would be no second chance at it. He transferred his last bit of energy, hoping it was enough before passing out.



Earlier, his wounds only stung. Not anymore – they were burning, as if Vynder S’n, or whatever the imprisoned dragon was called, was breathing fire on him anew.

“Ah, you’re awake.”

“You’re not dead,” Lysander countered without opening his eyes.

“Indeed, as if owing you my life once wasn’t enough.”

“Sparing a life and saving it are two different things.”

“You did both, so it’s a moot point.”

Lysander said nothing more, and fortunately, the collector picked up on the cue. Gradually, he became aware that something felt… off. Unusual.

Cracking his eyes open into tired slits, he looked down at his injuries. They were bandaged, but with a maroon material. Was the colour natural, or had his blood dyed it?

“I used parts of my sleeves for that,” the man said, drawing Lysander’s attention. “I hope you don’t mind, but you were bleeding rather profusely yourself.

Of course the collector had used his own sleeves. The drowsiness made Lysander’s mind foggy. He yawned and asked, “How long have I been out?”

“Only two hours, which is a miracle in and of itself. Anyone else would have been gone for at least two days. Your regenerative abilities are astonishing, but your healing is simply mind-blowing. Already, my wounds have begun closing.”

“Is that a question?”

“It’s a compliment, and those are as rare as the items I keep.”

“Thanks, but you still owe me an answer.”

The man laughed, but not unkindly that time. “Dogged as always.”

“I’m part wolf, not dog – get it right.”

“I knew I saw a mammalian predator in you. Anyway, what was your question?”

Lysander furrowed his brow, trying to remember. “Err, you were telling me something about… about the Dragon Talisman and how I know more about something than I am aware.”

“Right! You are a living Dragon Talisman. That’s what I was trying to say.”

“That makes absolutely no sense. Did I forget to heal your brain too?”

“Brain damage can never be healed, but allow me to explain. If an inexperienced mage were to attempt to adopt the form of Vyren S’nd by using this pendant, the dragon would destroy the mage’s mind and have a new vessel for his soul. He tried that with me when I transformed into him the first few times, but he never succeeded, so he stopped trying.

“Dragons – and I mean proper dragons – are ancient, immortal creatures that crave control over everything. Those other bipedal dragons are the sire of dragons and humans, so they aren’t anywhere near as threatening. They can’t match that sheer power.

“You, on the other hand, are a case study. You appear to be a combination of both, yet neither. Your bipedalism and general form stems from your combined angelic and draconic heritage, so it’s a different kind of bond. However, I think all of your aspects were once living creatures, and while you undoubtedly have your own soul, their bodies fused to create yours. Their souls have all moved on – save for one.”

“My Enraged Form?”

“If that’s what you want to call it, yes. Can you remember what happened while you were chasing me?”

“…No.”

“Just as I thought. It’s because you still have that dragon’s soul inside you, and whenever you change, it takes over. But here’s the catch: it is no longer the dragon’s body, but yours, so it can’t stay in control for very long. I believe that, if you can learn to subjugate this other soul, you might be able to control your actions as a dragon.”

“Dude, that’s a lot to take in.”

“It can’t be any more shocking than learning you were a Planeswalker.”

“Actually, it is. Learning I can Planeswalk? I can blame the experiment for that. Learning I have another soul inside me? Not the same. Wait, do dragons Planeswalk?”

“You can handle the knowledge, but no, no species are known for being inherent Planeswalkers. Anyway, if you can take me on, you shouldn’t be too worried – for now, that is. I’m sure you’ll have to face much fiercer opponents than me. In fact, take this.” The man gingerly removed the Dragon Talisman from his neck and slid it closer. “It will help you in your Trials to come.”

Lysander reached out and pulled the talisman closer by its chain. Said chain was made of golden links, but the stone itself was a brilliant, teardrop-shaped ruby with a glowing orange light inside it. “You just said I can’t control my own inner dragon, but now you want me to transform into this one? Are you crazy?”

“Relax, the talisman isn’t charged.”

“What do you mean?”

“Each time it’s used, the gem loses some of its energy. Use all of the gem’s power, and you can’t transform anymore. You have to recharge it first.”

“With what? The Star of Draco?”

“No!” The man shook his head furiously for a moment, and then winced. Tentatively touching his neck, he added, “Never do that. The Star of Draco is one of the greatest power sources in existence. It is even speculated to be a Dragon Talisman itself. Whatever the case may be, it should never come into contact with a confirmed Dragon Talisman. It could simply recharge it, but it could also destroy the talisman, or even free the trapped soul inside and recreate its body. I keep it locked away for a very good reason.”

“I still want it. Your trinket is nice, but I’m not the sentimental type.”

A lie.

“It’s not a trinket! The reason the Star of Draco could be a Dragon Talisman and still be a power source is because the talisman takes on the qualities of the dragon trapped within it. Vyren S’nd was the fourth most dangerous Firedrake to have lived in any universe, so the talisman grants its wearer his immunity to the passive side-effects of Red Mana. However, he particularly despised light magic, so it also makes the wearer more susceptible to White Mana.”

“So I wear it in Red Mana sectors, but take it off in White Mana sectors. No big deal.”

“Actually, you don’t have to wear it at all. Simply possessing it is good enough. If you want to dodge the White Mana’s detrimental effects, you have to do dispose of the talisman by giving it away or losing it.”

“Huh.” Lysander was becoming restless. It felt like he had been in the Reliquary Tower for far too long already. “Well, I think I know enough now. Thanks for the info. I still need the page, tho– Never mind, it’s lying on the floor next to me.”

He carelessly grabbed the paper and stuffed it into his bag. He rose shakily and scanned the wreckage for the sapphire-inlaid tablet.

“Do you really have to take it?” the collector moaned. “It took me a decade to find it, and that was even with the centuries’ worth of research I consulted.”

“It’s coming with me, whether you like it or not.”

The man breathed an exaggerated sigh of resignation. “Definitely “or not”, but I’m in no state or mood to offer any resistance.”

After Lysander found the tablet hiding beneath a fallen piece of masonry and had added it to his bag’s contents, he fastened his bag to his back and turned to the man one final time. “What happens now? I’m obviously leaving, but what about you?”

“These two towers are essentially just very lavish apartments. I’m merely one of the many tenants. We take notice of what our neighbours do, but we mind our own business – unless there is something to be gained. I sealed the doors so that they couldn’t enter, because they’d have killed us and pillaged my collection. I’ll just remain here until I have recuperated. I imagine the Reliquary Tower will suffer more violence before the day is over, but your fellows will much more difficulty retrieving the pages than you and those who have already been here.”

“What time is it?”

“Noon.”

“Well, then I really had better get back to the Maze. I need as much rest as I can get before the next Trial starts.”

The man held up his hand. “Before you go, I have a request.”

Lysander was puzzled, but less suspicious than he would have been earlier that day. “What?”

“If you survive the Trials, or even if you have time during them… will you visit me?”

“Don’t you have friends?”

“I don’t need friends; they can’t be trusted. Well, neither can my so-called allies, but you are something different, so I suppose that means I can trust you. We have both suffered because of the Maze–”

“This is only my second Trial,” Lysander interrupted.

The collector cleared his throat in an irritated manner and continued, “–and while we have matured, that is our doing, not its. We need to stop it. If you visit me, we can plan its downfall together.”

Lysander shrugged. “Truth is I don’t have any friends either, so it’s a date.” He made to Planeswalk when something (figuratively) struck him. “Wait, but I don’t know your name.”

“Nor I yours. Consider that motivation to return someday – someday soon, hopefully. Farewell.”

“Yeah, bye.”

Lysander ripped a tear in the fabric of space and climbed through. He was halfway in when he got stuck. It was as if something pulled him back. He leaned forwards, but still, he couldn’t pass. He leaned forward with stubborn determination, but found himself face-down on the scarlet carpet of the room in which he had been previously. Pushing off and rising to his feet, he gripped the rift with both hands and closed it.

It seems this Trial is taking you Champions longer than expected. I am slightly disappointed, but also pleased, for it means your second task has already proven to be quite difficult.

“Yeah, no thanks to you.”

The Maze ignored the comment, likely unaware of its hidden meaning. Go to the desk where you received my instructions. There is an open book on it. Place the page inside.

As Lysander approached the desk, he unfastened his bag. The book was the same black one in which he had found his second-to-last note. “What was up with those sticky notes anyway?”

Look around. You should be happy that I choose to be informal with you. The other Champions subconsciously created preconceptions of me, so if it is strictness, formality, rudeness, etc. which they desire, then I shall indulge them.

“And I desired this?” Lysander swept his arm across the lounge.

No, your wish was to be treated decently. If the others wanted the same, I should have extended the same courtesy. I cannot be seen showing favouritism.

Lysander considered the Maze’s words as he opened his bag. He reached for the page when he realised the Star of Draco and the Dragon Talisman were gone.

“You stole them!” he shouted, looking up, but not certain where exactly to look, since the Maze wasn’t anywhere specific.

Before you continue your accusation, listen to reason. I am not motivated by greed or envy, so if I take something, it will be because I sought it out in the first place, not because I want to take your knick-knacks in order to be petty. The others who have already completed the Trial also wanted to take something from either of the two towers, but in each case, it stayed behind. Technically, you lot should only be able to Planeswalk yourselves to different planes, but I am not a fan of nudity or excessive complaints, so I help things along by Planeswalking your clothes, supplies, and miscellaneous objects along with you. If you want to take anything else, it is up to your own, currently lacklustre, abilities.

“Then how’d I Planeswalk this?” Lysander held up the surprisingly smooth page.

You didn’t. As I said, I Planeswalk everything that isn’t a part of your body. I want the pages, so it only makes sense that I’d bring that along. The Star of Draco and that Dragon Talisman did not interest me, despite what you may think, and since you could not Planeswalk it yourself – your being stuck demonstrated that – I removed it and placed it on the floor of the plane you were leaving. Speaking of which, if this is what you look like, the poor soul who suffered your wrath must have died a particularly gory death.

“He wasn’t a pretty sight, that’s for sure,” Lysander said, hoping the Maze hadn’t sensed the other life in the ruined room, “but that’s beside the point.”

No, it is not. You wanted something you could not take with you, so I saved you the time of realising that yourself. You can either continue to argue your futile case, or you can acknowledge your weakness, learn from it, and complete the Trial.

Grudgingly, Lysander placed the edge of the page in the fold between the black book’s pages. Upon making contact with the page, the book snapped shut and crumbled into dust. An ominous wind then came from behind and blew the dust up the stairs. However, Lysander was too upset to care.

“I’ll get them back someday.”

If you survive and they are still there, then by all means, go ahead. Until then, you have a schedule to keep. I suggest you accept this intermission and take some respite; there will be little time for it in the future.

Manelau RiTimm | Gruul Clan | Karplusan Forest

The first thing he remembered was being pulled in and falling hard onto some grass. Or, what felt like grass. The sounds of birds echoed throughout the place and bounced off his growing headache. He moved two hands to his side, trying to push himself up. His muscles, however, strained and made him fall onto the ground again. He groaned, slowly rolling onto his back. Slowly, Manelau opened his eyes to have freckled sunlight above him. It hurt his eyes and blinking wasn't going to help him. It only reminded him of how tired he was, what he doing, and what was in the end.
Manelau shifted onto his bottom, sitting up. Pain sore throughout his body, repeating in his legs and arms. Cussing under his breath, he checked for any injuries. The previous wound that was on his left arm was healing, pealing red skin around heavy, sweaty muscle. Manelau slowly turned his head when a snapping nerve caused him to turn his head forward. I can't just lay here and mourn over my pain.
Slowly, as if he was learning to walk, Manelau stood up. His legs nearly gave out under him as he skittered to a nearby tree stump. Moss-kissed the bark, soft and green. He grunted, balancing his weight on his right arm as he tried to stand up again. It almost felt, when attempting, a hot knife repeatedly stabbing the minotaur's left leg. Though being a fighter for his whole life, the pain he felt here was greater than anything he felt before.
Soon, after several failed attempts, Manelau now sat on the stump. Panting, he tried to gather his thoughts. Wild horses in the sand. His throat felt dry from working and running from ravenous beast: the last beast was almost as scary as his trainer.

"I see you're finally up, RiTimm," a small voice stated, jumbling with his thoughts. Manelau groaned, clenching his fist.

What do you want?

"My, my. Somebody's angry. I'm actually here to congratulate you."

Really?

"Yes and give you your next challenge. You seemed to excellent during the last round that I thought I could present you with some more challenges. This one, though, is a bit easier. This time around you can planeswalk."

Great.

"You should sound happier! I could take away that chance from you, RiTimm!"

Whatever. Could you just give me the challenge?

"Challenges. Plural, Manelau. Anyway. The first challenge would be within this very forest. What I want you to do is to find the one of the nineteen Fruits of Elder Knowledge. A little known fun fact is that these fruits have been growing for one hundred thirty three years and guarded by an assortment of creatures. You just have to pick the ones that are friendly.
"Soon after you complete that, you must planeswalk to Moonring Island and find a magical shell with the water of Youthful Ignorance. Much like the fruit, you'll come across some creatures. They may be nice and help while others will make you fear. Your choice is what make the path longer.
"If you have both of these, you now have to planeswalk back to the Maze and place them in the out-stretched hands of a person by the front gate. You can't miss them. This will give you access to the next point of the Maze.
"Sound easy? Good."

A white noise filled his brain. Manelau had gotten used to it and with every second, he was glad for it. It was a chance to escape this hell and go back home. Though it seemed that the Maze was an example of how the outside world is just a form of hell. You have to figure out the best ways to find short cuts. Break the system.



The heat was soaring when he finally started walking. Around him, different noises were both distracting and persuading him to continue on. Dry green leaves crunched under his feet then silenced by the moss that grew in different parts of the forest. Bright flowers, some red and some gold, hid their petals when the minotaur walked past them. Smaller creatures like brownies, hid in the shadows of the tall trees overhead. Beast such as the minotaur, frightening them but only grew the monsters around them.
Manelau thought hard about where to look for these "magical" fruits. He didn't even know what they looked like and for all he knew, the fruits could be tiny or high in the canopy. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before a ting of the stung nerve caused him to quickly remove his hand. There were trees as far as the eye could see, green and orange leaves spewing overhead. Brown shells hung gracefully from some of the branches along the way, some even had small green insects protecting it.
The sun was still freckling the leaves when Manelau stopped walking to rest beside a dying tree. His throat was constricting on itself, dryness running down to his lungs. He couldn't comprehend the last time he had water and the thought of it made his brain spin.
On the wind, he thought, there was a sound of a running stream just east of him. It was clear but fogging. Almost as if he was dreaming of it. Manelau shifted onto his feet and followed the sound, snaking between trees, hopping over bushes, and ducking under vines. As the sound of the water grew louder, Manelau stopped when he came across a gap between the land and another forest. He was running on empty when he jumped. A sudden impulse that could make the common fool die. Mane didn't expect to jump; he just did.

When he foot his the ledge, almost toppling over, he continued on his trek to find the water. Pushing aside shrubs, stumbling upon small rocks, and suffering the pain of small twig snapping back. It was then that Manelau was suffering beyond his limit when he (thought) knew he reached the stream. A twisting tree, almost in the shape of a rounded out chair, with blooming orange flowers welcomed the minotaur. Lanterns were hung on widely through the branches, with warm colors that reminded Manelau of cut meat. He shook his head at such thoughts and tried to stay on course. Manelau slowly walked until he came to the outer reaches of the huge tree. There was a small stream that ran loosely on rainwater, trickling down to the last spout.
Manelau fell down on his knees and tried to scoop the water with his hands. Though, the water seemed realistic and touchable, it was a mirage. After every attempt, his anger would boil over like steam and settle down like little water droplets on the side of a kettle. Manelau soon gave up and fell to the group in frustration. Above him were flowers and vines, intertwining before meeting with with a huge mossy tree. His eyes followed these before hearing a cool yet agitated voice broke silence.

"What are you doing here?"



The voice was echoing off the tree trunks and underneath the twisting roots. Manelau looked around in a dazed state, trying to a put a finger on the mysterious noise. He tried to move his head back towards the big tree with pink and red flowers but his neck's nerves were popping from all the sudden movements. He sighed in defeat, slowly rolling onto his stomach before pushing himself up. A headache was slowly growing bigger as Manelau stood up. All the blood had rushed to his head, causing the minotaur to stumbled about before finally climbing his way up.
A broken stick lay in the freckled sunlight, a tiny red beetle crawling on it. A home for this beetle and possibly the next thing the minotaur would step on. A wave of lack of sleep washed over Manelau as he yawned, jolting when the stick stabbed his big toe. A chill ran down his back and into his brain as he groaned in pain. He felt weak; he was weak. The Maze was tearing him apart for what might be coming next. He hopefully hoped it included a bed.

When he reached the tree, there was a creature sleeping on a branch. As Manelau side-stepped the tree, he noticed this creature had something in its mouth and was in the form of circle. It looked like a bird, greasy brown feathers on the wings while the body itself was almost a grey green reptilian skin. The thing the bird reptile was holding almost looked like a fuzzy brown snake. Its eyes were closed, as well.

Was that here before?

Manelau sighed, leaning against the tree trunk. The weather now (compared to what it was earlier) felt almost relaxing and inviting. Nap weather, concluded Manelau. As his eye fluttered close, he heard the same soft voice calling out to him

What are you doing here?



When Manelau woke up, his head was rested on a type of soft leaf pillow and his body was covered with what appeared to be dried leaves from the tree above him. The sun was slightly lower than he had remembered but his head felt a lot clearer. Yawning, Manelau sat up and looked around him. It was before his eye caught onto a red fruit. It was smaller on the top than it was on the bottom, a wider base that turned orange in the fading sunlight. It was hanging on a nearby branch from a green vine, dangling on for dear life. Subconsciously, Manelau licked his lips. The fruit was only a few steps away from his napping area and could easily be eaten in a single bite. Though, a thought was echoing in his mind.

Is it poisonous? Do you really want to eat it?

A mind over matter situation. It was loosely a win or lose plan. Either he would die eating or enjoy the savory flavor that the fruit possessed. He groaned, flopping down on his bed again. It was then that he realized that his bed was in fact in the tree that he was leaning against. A tree branch was curved to the right amount under his head and dozen or so branches were supporting his back. He blinked, as he tried remembering how he came to this position.
As he was thinking, the small creature before was watching overhead.

"You're awake."

Manelau heard the voice before, soft yet concerning, above him. Though, if he tried to move his neck up, the pain would double over. He groaned lightly, shifting in his makeshift bed. Having his back against a tree branch, the minotaur had a perfect view of the creature. As mentioned before, this creature was holding onto a fuzzy brown snake in its beak while both eyes were closed. The silver reptile scales glowed in the freckled sunset light as the creature hopped down the different branches. Manelau noticed it nearly falling over at times before recomposing itself.

"What are you doing here?"

The question seemed hallowed as if the creature knew why he was here.

"I need to find a 'magical' fruit of Elder Knowledge."

The creature hummed, almost agreeing. The tail thing in it's mouth started to make a noise, similar to that of a mutter as the creature itself, nodded. It hobbled down from a branch above Manelau, before resting on thicker tree branch.

"If you seek the Elder Knowledge Fruit, then you must complied to my offer. It'll be within reason so don't fret"

"I suppose so."

The creature nodded briefly before hobbling through the branches while the snake in his mouth, hopped along with every step. Minutes later, the creatures returned with a tray with three silver cups. He placed the tray in front of Manelau on top of a pile of knotted branches in front of him.

"Before we begin, I like to tell you about myself. I'm an Amphisbaena and my name literally means 'to go both ways', but you may call me Ammie. As you see, or at least I hope you can see, I have two heads. The one head I hold is my eyes, in a sense. Much like a snake, it uses it's tongue to see. I'm the brain power though, as you might have picked up. I'm blind in both eyes. My favorite food are ants that crawl up and down this tree.
"Now, since we got that out of the way, we are going to play a simple yet complex game of Finding the Clues to the Fruit! I always play this game with newcomers that wander into my forestry realm. I will have my other head," Ammie gestured to the floppy snake in his beak, "move the cups. When he is done, you will then pick a cup. If that cup has a piece of paper, you may seek the Fruit. If not, well, you'll have three more attempts. If you fail at those three attempts, you'll be killed."

Manelau blinked. Sounds like somebody I know.

"Fine. I'll play your little 'game'."

The first round, Manelau tired to watch the cup with the piece of paper but Ammie's snake head was moving too quickly. Before he could even think about where the paper was, Manelau (stupidly) wisely chose the first sliver cup.

Ammie then revealed that the paper was carefully hidden under the third silver cup.

"Now begins your three tries. Remember, on your third and final try, if you don't make it, I'll have to kill you."

Wonderful.

When the snake head was moving the cups on the board, the minotaur watched the cup with the paper carefully. This time I won't lose. That thought was the misstep in the long ladder. As you know, watching something too carefully can cause your mind to wander, growing bored of the situation and creating another situation. Daydreaming wasn't something Manelau did but in fact, he did it without even realizing it. When watching the cup ever so carefully, he forgotten to set his mind to actually focusing instead of dazing into space.

"Now, select a cup, please." The minotaur blinked a few times before picking the second cup. A few minutes passed before the snake head grabbed the selected cup. When he lifted it, there was nothing under it. Ammie made a sound similar to a chuckle as the snake head replaced the cup back on the table.

"You're not really good at this game, are you? I suppose it makes sense, though, as it proves you are as stupid as you may seem."

Manelau's patience was running slim now and half-tempted to just smack the cups off with a single hit. A game that tested his patience was game he was not willing to play. An ironic turn of events, especially for a minotaur like himself. They are known for their stubbornness and timid behaviors. Selfless acts towards merciless creatures that stood in their way. All of it was judged upon.

"Besides, even if you wanted the paper, you could've figured out a better way to even try. Though, that would be considered cheating and an instance death," Ammie briefly stated. "What you do next is completely up to you."

Minotaurs, in a sense, overthink the simplest of things. He tried to find some form of shortcut when the answer in right in front of his faces. It isn't on purpose but a sort of natural habit that comes when under pressure. Manelau could hardly believe he was withstanding the sudden movement to knock over the cups. Anyone else could've done it and died, but he began thinking outside the box. Perhaps even thinking was making him more smarter rather than dumber.

"One more game and this time I will win." The Amphisbaena made the same laughing sound before rearranging the cups that were placed in front of Manelau. As the snake head started to move the cups, the restless minotaur only staring at the resting Amphisbaena. He had learned that if you watch something, you'll think it's there, when in reality that thought was a mere speck in the sea. He only watched the cup from the corner of his eye. His foot was lightly tapping, his neck was slowly getting better as he craned it back, looking through the tree branches to the darken orange sky. Was he afraid? Clearly, the minotaur didn't know. If he didn't pick the correct cup, the chances of dying were near. It was his last chance to actually do something. He only hoped the gods above were on his sides.

"You may pick a cup now," Ammie stated. It was obviously he was watching the minotaur suffer every time he picked the wrong cup. This time, he thought, you'll die at the hands of me.
Manelau sighed deeply. He felt almost as if he overthinking the simple things as of right now. In such a situation as this, who wouldn't? It was like walking on a broken bridge; one misstep and you fall under. Though, if you had the guidance of somebody, the end doesn't seem that far off. The minotaur leaned forward, putting a finger to his chin. There was a silence that hung in the air, thick enough to be cut with a knife.

The Amphisbaena was, seemingly, smiling as the minotaur in front of him glanced from cup to cup. The snake that was in his mouth, was hanging limply off the branch. He was bored with what was happening in front of him. A silly game that could end the stranger. It always happened. The last guy that wanted to play tasted like unclean Pisachas' feet. The memory caused the snake head to frown deeply. Just get this game over with.
Manelau weighed the options before sighing. Why was he overthinking this simple task? He didn't know. Life and death, hung by the simple thread.

"I'll pick the third cup."

Ammie nodded and picked the snake head in his beak. The said head sighed, resting his mouth around the bottom of the cup. The tension in the air was growing, the suspense causing sweat to hang around the minotaur's neck. His heart was beating as if he was going into battle. His stomach was grumbling unpleasantly. The stones were set;
There is a saying that Manelau remembers from his trainer during his first time going into the Stomping Ground.



At the time, he didn't know what it meant. A simple phrase. He had pushed it aside as he did with most sayings or things he would hear in the clubs or in bars. Though, that single thought, wandered back into his mind. At that moment, while waiting for the cup to be lifted, to hopefully hold that piece of paper that his life depended on. It hung in the balance while the Amphisbaena calmly sat, a smug grin plastered on his scaly face.
The snake head, at the moment, was slowly regretting his life and slowly wishing the retarded minotaur would die off easily.
The cup was lifted. A silent hum floated in the air. Birds. A whelp. When trying to stand up, a tree branch whacked Manelau upside the head. He whimpered shortly afterwards as the Amphisbaena's smug grin fell.

"It appears you found the piece of paper. You must know nobody's been able to actually find it. It almost appears luck was on your side today."

"Call what you like, I won far and square." Manelau shifted in the makeshift bed and started to figure a way to climb down. Ammie only sighed, using the snake head as a rope. While this was happening, the snake head was grieving. Hard. What he thought was going to be a lose, ended up as a win. He didn't know why it upset him. Perhaps it was the feeling of power that overcomes somebody. You are finally noticed and not used as some rope.



There was a starry sky above the minotaur as he tried to follow the map. The moon was sliced by the different branches that crossed in his view and made reading the map hard in the first place. His body was aching towards sleep, a restless brain dying slowly, and eyes stinging, wanting to close. Manelau rejected such things. If he slept, he wouldn't get further to his goal and besides, he hardly knew what creatures would be lurking at this hour. He had yawned throughout the trip, blinking before settling his eyes back on the map.

Which way is east again?

Does that landmark equal this landmark?

The questions that made the minotaur think hard enough caused great pain for later.

"It seems you found the final clue to getting the fruit, Mr. Manelau. "

The voice caused the minotaur to groan.

It would be helpful if the fruit were easy to find.

The Maze chuckled. "I'm afraid that's not how it works. I like to see the challengers suffer, which I'm sure you know. If I just simply put the fruit in front of them, what's the use of that?"

Seems a bit selfish, if you ask me.

"Anyway. I think you should use some rest."

How do I know that some creature won't steal this paper?"

The Maze chuckled once again before sighing. "You're something else. Perhaps sleeping isn't even good for a sleepless minotaur like yourself. If you remember correctly from what I said earlier, planeswalking does come in handy. In fact, it might even-"

I think I get your point. So, you basically saying use planeswalk to get me to my next destination?

"If you had let me finish. But yes. The Moonring Islands. Once you get there, you'll look some magical shells. Oh, and do look out for the Cynocephali."

Manelau sighed. He glanced down at the map once again, before falling in step with the little red marks indicting which way to go. It almost felt like he was here before. The tree that hung low to the ground, curved to the side a little, and the bright yellow flowers seemed almost shocking to the minotaur.

"Why are you back again?" The voice sent a shiver down Manelau's back. He slowly turned around to see the outline of the Amphisbaena. As a minotaur, he isn't easily scared. Though the Amphisbaena did give him the run for his money.

"Why?"

"I came looking for the fruit."

Ammie chuckled. "You mean this one?" As if on cue, his snake head appeared from behind his back with a glowing red fruit. Wasn't that the same one I saw earlier?

"It appears you found this fruit before meeting me. What I find funny is you didn't want to eat it. Most wanderers would've token the chance of doing so but you didn't even seemed phased by the fruit." The Amphisbaena glowered. "I hope you know, I can't help but be a little jealous of you. For some reason, the control you have over not eating this fruit, is rather annoying. I hate people like yourself. Mind over matter type of people.
"When we were playing that silly game of cups, your patience for the game was almost sickening. Though, it did prove excellent when you finally won. I longed to find somebody much like yourself. Or rather, I wished to be like you.
"From false tellings, I even thought minotaurs were the ones that were weak and selfless. How wrong was I." Ammie then climbed down, before stopping on a branch a few feet from the minotaur.

"The cup game was a mere challenge as to what is coming next. I know it sounds silly, but believe me when I say this. The road may seem dark and lonely but with light, the road will clear and only grow more dangerous as the times come. This fruit is merely a dot on an endless map.
"Since you seem like you're tired and pleading, I'll give you this fruit. Not out of the fact that I wish you would leave but out of the fact you're annoying. Condensing, I know." Ammie then flew with his tiny wings towards the minotaur and settled a mere inches away from his face.
"With this fruit, I'm sure, you'll find your light."

"Thanks for the inspiring talk but frankly, I don't give one damn about what you have to say." Manelau quickly grabbed the fruit before turning on heel, leaving the Amphisbaena alone in the dark.



The effect of not sleeping was soon coming over the minotaur. He remembered what the Maze had told him, about planeswalking to the other realm. It seemed far-fetched in retrospect and the normal creature wouldn't even think of doing it. Even so, a creature with the power that Manelau had, wouldn't be able to do it.
Without even thinking, he started spinning and then ran. Around him, the place changed. White flashed by him. Cold. Warm. Wet. He fell headfirst into something soft and slimy. Better than landing onto some hard clay.
Manelau pulled himself up. Adrenaline was coursing through his veins. Buzzing. Anxious. Where the hell am I?



As a minotaur, walking on mud isn't the easiest thing in the world. Your footing is completely off and you end up falling. Manelau, for example, isn't a clumsy minotaur. He's quick on his feet. Though, when placed in wet ground, the thought of him being quick is the exact opposite.
Manelau waddled through the mud, stepping a puddle here and there. The air around him felt muggy and damp, like the mud that was the ground. There were water creatures that were roaming around, clawing through the muck for food. The minotaur sighed when he thought of food. His mind suddenly thought back to the fruit, which was cozy in his makeshift backpack. A battle was playing in his head, almost wanting to eat the damn fruit and not listen to his dying stomach. Though, there was a small voice in the back of his head that argued that eating the fruit would be ruthless, causing the challenge of getting back home.
Manelau only sighed, continuing on his journey. He had to find some shells, if he remembered correctly. They contained some form of water that made you, like the fruit if eaten, wise.

The sky seemed to be threatening rain. The humidity was high enough for bugs to nip at the minotaur's shoulders and arms. Manelau only groaned, heaving the bag while walking. He decided on just walking through the mud. What he didn't realize, was a rock path to the left of him. A running stream with a few stones that lead into some woods. Mysterious and dark.
What felt like hours to a normal creature felt like years to the Manelau. He didn't know where to start. How do you find something when you have no idea where or what to look for? He had the what covered but the where was still left blank. The sky had shifted to a grayish peach, clouds still moving quite fast when Manelau decided to take a break against a mossy boulder.
He set the bag next to him, collapsing soon after. He didn't feel tired; just the single thought of sitting felt nice. The minotaur glanced up towards the sky, frowning slightly. He hadn't eaten anything, a small headache was starting up, and he couldn't find the shells. The minotaur was regretting everything. It is a common thing to do if you have nothing else better to do. Grieve of the losses you've done in the past year and put them into a jar. Then, later, at a proper time, you would open it. Pandora's Box for the bored. Manelau, in this case, was stuck up with the idea of even being here. The Maze hadn't really given him a location to start looking and didn't mention once about a beach. His feeble mind seemed racked upon separating the pros and cons. He then started wondering if the Maze was a real person, someone he could actually kill with his bear hands. Would he be the end of this hell or do I have to walk there, too?

Several minutes later, while complaining quietly to himself, Manelau grabbed his bag and stood up. He had told himself countless times before not to hold back on the past or it was soon control him. Continue on until you reach the future. When he stood, just beyond the mud, was a river. Maybe the river leads to a beach! Without a moment to think of plan, Manelau ran through the mud and followed the river.



What he thought would lead him to the river, only lead the minotaur to a group of Devas. They were swimming in the water, having a time of their own. There were some that had long red hair that reached their waist and wearing floral dresses while some others were laughing in squeaking, high-pitched voices. Manelau groaned, pausing to catch his breath a few feet away from the group. He had heard from the Stomping Ground that Devas weren't all that mean but protected nature at all costs. Including the tiniest of animals to the tallest of the trees.
When he finally caught his breath, he moved before hiding behind a tree. The minotaur skimmed his eyes over the river bed in hopes of finding any trace of the shell. It was hopeless. They all looked the same.

"Excuse me?" A small quiet voice behind him, asked.

Manelau jumped slightly before turning around. There was a smaller Deva with bright green eyes and pink ponytails. She was currently dressed in a purple and yellow floral dress with pink slippers.

"Why are you hiding behind a tree?"

"Because I'm observing."

"Why are you observing?"

"Why do you ask so many questions?" Manelau spat before turning around. The Deva girl frowned.

"Two doesn't seem like a lot of questions."

"Whatever," Manelau grumbled. He skimmed the river bed while the Deva girl sighed heavily.

"If you are searching for something, I could be of an assitan-"

"I don't your help. I can deal just fine, thank you." Manelau snapped before resuming his normal activity. The Deva girl frowned before stomping past the minotaur. Her pink ponytails bounced as she moved while Manelau's eyes followed her. She stopped in front of a local Deva (blue brown shirt with black shorts) and pointed in the minotaur's direction.

Great.

If he ran, they might follow. If he just stayed there, he could be charged with trespassing. The possible events reeled in his mind. Melodramatic senses took over and caused him to become aware of his surroundings. Meanwhile the Deva girl was happily skipping towards Manelau. When she passed the tree, the girl saw the minotaur sitting at the tree's base.

"Why are you scared?"

"I never get scared."

The Deva girl raised an eyebrow. "Really? Then answer me this. Why are you on the ground?" She then crossed her arms and smiled.

"Because... it is better than leaning against a itchy tree. Honestly, my back itches like nothing else. Now, get lost, little girl."

The Deva girl was now clenching and unclenching her fist. "What did you just call me?"

"A little girl because you seem aro-" Before Manelau could even finish, the Deva girl was holding him by the throat against the tree trunk.

"I may be little, but I can fight." When the girl looked into Manelau's eye, the minotaur saw insanity and anger. A whirlwind. Confusion. Manelau only sighed, grabbing the Deva's hand.

"Oh, you can fight?" Manelau knew he was going to regret doing this but what else was he going to do? Let the little twit win? He quickly and effortlessly switched position, causing the Deva girl to be pinned against the tree trunk with the minotaur's hand against her throat. She was clawing at it, staring up at him with pleading eyes.

"If you knew how to fight, you could've stopped me," Manelau spat. He then leaned to her ear and whispered,"Now tell me where I can find a shell that contains the water from the Spring of Youthful Ignorance."

"Now, you ask for my help." The Deva girl snickered. Manelau tightened his grip as the girl continued to claw at his hand. "Fine. I'll tell you i-if you le-et me go. Ple-ease." Disgusted, the minotaur threw the girl onto the ground.

"Now, tell me." The girl was coughing and clawing at the ground.

"You k-know what the-ey say. Ignorance never settles a qu-uestion," the girl quickly stated before going into another coughing fit.

Manelau rolled his eyes. "I didn't even choke you that hard," he muttered. The Deva girl sent him a glare before standing up. As she was dusting herself off, the girl said that the shells were near where the river had ended and before she could even show Manelau the way, he was off.

"Stupid minotaur. All of the strength is used in the wrong way."

As he was running, Manelau felt the rush of excitement run over him. It was the same type of feeling he got when he completed the first challenge. It'll be just as easy. There was small hill that the river, creating a small lake. There was a walkway that lead into the deeper part of the woods nearby. The minotaur nearly fell from excitement as he stumbled down the hill. Mud stuck to his hooves, kicking it up towards his legs. Clinging onto his hairs. A wasteful life.
As he neared the small like, Manelau stumbled upon pebbles and shells. He didn't know how to handle giddiness or the hope of finding something. It all seemed like an illusion. Something he could've hold on to. A broken bird stuck in a cage. Which shell contains this water?
He began looking, sitting in one spot near the water, picking at the different shells. There were different varieties are the shells. Curvy. Bold. Lame. It depended on how far or close they were to the water. Manelau continued looking through all the shells before stopping at the hundredth shell. The evening sun was now setting, the sky above him a fading pinkish grey. He sighed, resting his arms behind him. Gazing over the open area in front of him, it all felt almost daunting. It would take over three hours before he could find the shell and by the looks of the sky, he didn't exactly have that much time left. With a nod, Manelau continued looking.
He sorted the shells into two groups; possible and impossible. For once, the minotaur was using his brain. What he didn't think through, though, was the mixing of these two piles. As he reached the end of his wits, thinking of just grabbing a shell and filling it with water, pretending it was filled with the damn magic water, a silver shell caught his eye. Throwing the shell that he held in his hands, Manelau walked towards it. The dying sunlight glowed the sliver shell, causing it to out bright the surrounding shells.

When the minotaur had reached the shell, there were creatures sneaking out of the forest. Night dwellers. They stood around the lake, observing the surroundings, before walking around the perimeter of the lake. They kept watch over the assortment of foods it provided and in hopes of it not being stolen. Manelau, however, didn't receive this message clearly from the Deva girl. The shell was within reaching distance when he heard a low growl coming from behind him.

Not again.

When the minotaur turned around, he was pounced upon. Strong paws held him by the shoulders as the creature was snarling, drool running down it's chin. Manelau felt anger mixed with fear kicked into his system, causing him to kick the creature in the lower stomach. This only caused it to give a deep sound, similar to that of a chuckle, and dug his claws into the minotaur's shoulder.

"Bastard," Manelau spat. He placed his hands on the creatures's shoulders, pushed, and rolled on top of the creature. This surprised it, the dark blood red eyes shifting from hunger to fear in a matter of seconds. "What makes you think you can easily just sneak up behind a minotaur? Of course, you wouldn't understand since you are a Crocotta. Stubborn, stupid hybrids of the ancient hyena and lioness." Without a further thought, the minotaur grabbed the Crocotta by the nap of the neck and started walking towards the tree. While doing so, it hadn't settled down and would only continue to claw at the minotaur.

"What are you trying to do?"

"You came into my territory, buddy! I attack those that do so."

Manelau chuckled. "How cute." He paused before placing the Crocotta on a high tree branch.

"What are you- get me down!"

"You are going to stay right there, Crocy, okay? I don't want your snippy snappy jaws bothering me. As you saw, I was in the middle of something. Now," Manelau skipped backwards. "Excuse me, while I continue."

The Crocotta rolled his eyes before crossing his arms. "I guess the rumors are true. A minotaur is as stupid as it sounds."

Manelau, luckily, didn't hear this and walked back to the spot before. The silver shell was now (due to the overcast clouds) dimly lit. He carefully picked it up, peering into the inside. Liquid splashed along the sides as he held it. Silver. Dangerous. Poison. You need to leave, now.
Manelau took a deep breath before focusing on the Maze, the mental clear image of the forests and doors. The thought of escaping delighted him and with every step he took, it was a step closer to leaving. Seeing the outside world for the first time. Spinning around, he felt the surroundings (yet again) change.

When the minotaur planeswalk to the Maze, the Crocotta didn't know what to think. I'll have to tell Jyle. He'll never believe me. Heck, nobody will really believe me. Though, as he felt the wind shift as the minotaur disappear, he almost felt relieved at what happened. Except for the part being stuck in a tree.



One step forward. Face landing onto the hard ground. Manelau groaned. Second time today. Pushing himself up so he was laying on his stomach, the minotaur carefully laid the fruit and the shell next to him. Above him, there were stars that speckled the sky. Patterns of black branches were etched like arteries of a heart. One beating thing that helped another. He chuckled to himself, the laugh soon growing crazy. He was so close to being done. The end was right there and so far. The Maze, itself, much like the branches, helped achieve something. In the end, though, what is there really to win?

As Manelau stopped laughing a few minutes later, a small shadow crept over him. The restless minotaur leaned his head back, just to catch the glimpse of a girl with brown hair and a sweet smile.

"Are you Manelau RiTimm?"

"Yeah...?"

The girl's smile grew before moving in front of him. In the fading moonlight, Manelau could see that the girl was wearing a purple dress with a pink flower placed neatly over her left ear.

"Apparently, I was told to wait for you. Retrieving something. He wasn't good at giving details. Though he did mention I tell you who I am." The girl held out a hand signaling that she would pull the hefty minotaur up. Manelau kindly took the hand and stood up.

"I am Kilo, a Innua. We are spirits of the forest and love to protect things. Pleasure to meet you."

"Mhm," was all that Manelau said. He was dusting off his arms and popping the stress points in his fingers, neck, and back. When he was done, the minotaur grabbed the two items and placed them in front of himself.

"Here. I was suppose to bring these to go back into the Maze."

Kilo nodded lightly before taking the items in her two hands.

"And it seems you brought them. Just ahead you'll find the entrance to the Maze. I give you good luck, Manelau. Hopefully, we'll see each other again."

Manelau only grunted at this before walking past the Innua. What a strange girl. The walk to the Maze's entrance was only a few feet. A stone door was covered with vines and dripping water. A spinning knob was in the middle of the door, indicting that spinning it would be the only way in. The minotaur began spinning the knob and heard the door groan open. As the door was opening, Manelau peered into the darkness only to have an arm drag him in.

Nef was fuming as she traipsed through the dim corridors. The faint splashing as her boots hit the shallow water that coated the stone floor. She kicked at the water aggressively, spraying it outwards.

That maze thinks it can push me around…there’s no way I’m letting that thing get the better of me.

Nef gritted her teeth, her fangs digging slightly into her lip, drawing specks of blood. Her tongue lashed out to clean the punctures. She winced as her tongue dabbed at the two spots.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” she muttered to herself.

Her pointy ears pricked and wiggled as she heard a soft splashing in the distance. It was far away at the moment, but she could tell it was getting closer and quickly. She didn’t trust anything in this maze, which went for the Maze itself. She darted to the side wall and stood, frozen with her back against the cold stone. Her ears pricked trying to catch the slightest sound, but there was nothing. Her breathing was shallow and panicked as she tried her hardest to keep it silent. Her heart was beating against her ribs and she was petrified that its loud thump would give her away.

A few seconds later, she exhaled and relaxed. It must have taken a detour or found something else to keep its attention. She thanked her patron god and went on her way.

Splash…splash…splash

Went her footsteps. She wasn’t careless, just too preoccupied with her thoughts.

Splash…splash…splash

She hadn’t taken more than a few steps when it happened.

Splash…splash…splash…CRUNCH

The wall in front of her right exploded outwards, sending shattered brick and dust everywhere.

In front of her stood a webbed blue-green behemoth, its two powerful limbs holding up its hulking mass. A long, fishlike tail whipped behind it.

Ahhh…I see you met Lantis. A lovely pet, most loyal, most…eager.

Maaaaze!

Oh don’t be frightened Nef. He just wants a snack.

Nef couldn’t respond to the maze. Was this it?

The beast growled, as water rolled off its scaly hide and drool seeped out of its clenched jaw. Razor fins ran down its back which twitched with apprehension.

It had to be at least 10 feet tall. Nef took a step back.

Splash.

The beast let out a garbled roar and pounced at Nef. She ducked at the last second, covering her head with her arms. She could feel the whistle of scales whip at her hair, followed by a loud crunching sound that echoed around the maze, bouncing against the stone walls. She tentatively lifted her head in apprehension and turned around to look behind her, expecting to see the beast preparing its next attack. She was shocked to see instead a gaping hole, with brick tumbling into its depth.

And she was on its edge.

It felt as though she had left her heart there, as she tumbled back into the dark.

Find a fruit and a glass of water, the Maze yelled after her.



It was strange to say the least. While she still had the sensation of falling, it seemed as though she wasn’t falling at all. The hole from where she fell, rather than getting smaller had begun to widen but not only that: The dark of the maze had begun to fade to a light blue. Once it had completely changed, it flashed with a bright light, which caused Nef to scrunch her eyes closed.

Before she opened her eyes, she felt herself hit something thin. She felt it snap as her body flew against it. She opened her eyes to find that she now was falling for real. Falling through a tree to be exact. Leaves and branches whipped at her body as she crashed through the canopy, bringing pieces of broken wood down with her.

She first had to see how far she was away from the ground. Twisting in the air, she was now facing downwards, the wind blowing into her face made tears stream from her eyes. Branches and leaves now whipped at her face and chest, instead of her back.

Yeah, that wasn’t such a good idea.

She had been falling for about 10 seconds now, and she still couldn’t see the ground. It was not a good thing. She tried to flap her wings, but there just wasn’t enough room to do anything worthwhile.

She felt herself getting worried and began to flail out with all five of her limbs, trying desperately to grab on to something.

She felt her tail wrap around a branch of some kind, which caused her to jerk to a halt, her tail wrenching from the tension.

She looked down as she hung lazily from the branch, her heart pounding furiously. It was like she was looking into deep fog. There was nothing but thick tree trunks descending into clouds.

Nef knew that her injured tail could no longer hold her weight. Gritting her teeth with pain, she swung herself to the trunk and with the help of her wings she managed to latch on to it.

Well… I’ve seen what’s up. Let’s see how far this tree really goes.

With that, she began her precarious descent. Trying her best to ignore her throbbing tail.



After a good five minutes of climbing, she finally saw something that resembled walkable terrain. She was gobsmacked that there was still no ground in sight. Her fingers were bleeding from digging into the tough bark, so she jumped to land on what could only be described as a deck.

As she landed, the wood creaked with effort but held firm. Nef exhaled in relief, she really didn’t feel like falling again.

“Wow…”

Where she found herself was truly amazing. A town in the trees. As she looked around, she saw each trunk had these decks, while the thicker ones had hollowed out trunks. Vine bridges connected these trunks to one another. Each tree swayed in the breeze, individually. It didn’t really make sense that such big things could be moved by such a small force. But then, they were incredibly high up, so maybe it did.

She took a step onto a nearby bridge. It sagged menacingly, but held her weight. She walked quickly, but carefully to the other side, making sure not to look down. Once she was about three quarters of the way to the other side, she jumped and flapped to make the rest of the way. She didn’t want to risk the bridge snapping. And how things had been going for her lately, it definitely wasn’t something to overlook.

This new tree was one of the thick ones, hollowed out in the middle. She stepped through the opening and saw a flight of stairs that twisted downwards in a tight spiral, which she took without a second thought.

As she trudged down the stairs, the amazingness of where she was had begun to wear off, and the pain in her tail had returned. It had begun to run up her spine.

Where is everyone?

Nef believed it looked habitable, maybe not to her, but definitely to tree-people or whatever.

As she left the flight of stairs, she looked around, trying her hardest to spot a living thing.

Suddenly her ears pricked up as she heard a faint noise, carried along in the breeze. She was determined to investigate the source of the noise. Perhaps somewhere that she could rest for a while as she really wanted to cast redemption on her tail. She was convinced it was dislocated, but it didn’t feel like there was anything to pop back into place.

As she ambled along the decks, over the bridges, she heard the conversations grow louder.

“…not let the Earthbound eat our sacred flesh. It is OURS. WE tended the trees. WE bore the fruits. WE waited 133 years for OUR knowledge to be passed.”
Nef could see a congregation on a nearby tree. This tree however, unlike the others had been chopped cleanly. A group of about 20 creatures stood on the flat surface. A stump, though still hundreds of meters tall. They were still too far to make out detail however.

The next thing she heard made her blood run cold.

“Wait. There is an outsider among us. I can FEEL it.”

The congregation began to buzz with agreement. After a moment they began to hum at different frequencies.

Nef closed her eyes. She didn’t know why. She felt herself drifting to sleep, before she was abruptly awoken.

She was standing in the middle of the stump. Surrounded by 20 creatures.

“Imposter!” spat the owner of the voice who had been speaking.

Nef looked at her. A tall woodsprite that seemed to glow from the inside with greens and yellows.

“Calm thyself, Leshy,” spoke a tree. An Ent, more accurately. This one had more leaves and less spines than the one Nef had seen at the Maze entrance. His voice creaked with age and wisdom, muffled behind a beard of moss. “Whatfore bringeth thine hither?”

“What-a-what now?” asked Nef.

“Whence comest ye? And whither dost ye goest?”

“…is this a riddle?”

“Bite your tongue, interloper! You speak to our great Elder Ent, Mossenberk. 19 Harvest Terms old this day!” yelled Leshy.

“Leshy. Silence thyself, lest Nefarias Mora thither speaketh.”

Nef knew that she shouldn’t be surprised by the talking tree knowing her name. “Okay, well, it’s a long story…” she looked around nervously, scoping each member out. Excluding the Ent, there were 19 creatures. Leshy, the woodsprite; a male wood-elf; a dryad; a female fae; and a gorilla, were the only things she could recognize. The rest were creature that she had never seen, beings that would take her hours to describe.

“If thine story is told, I will you a story told from thee.”

“Okay, look Treebeard,” Nef ignored Leshy’s yelling. “I’m gonna rush through this right quick. I’m stuck in this weird competition, but it’s more like a death sentence. I’m a ‘Planeswalker’ whatever that is. Anyway, every day I’m dealt a scummy scenario where I get teleported to a realm and have to make it back in one piece. Did I mention there are other competitors? Cause there are. If I’m the last left standing, I get to live. Anyway, for today, it seems that I get to hang with you lucky sobs because my torturer forgot to give me my brief. Capisce?”

“Thou hast cometh at the 11th Hour. We beseech thine aid.”

Nef looked at the tree in exasperation.

It seemed the fae had had enough also. “Mossenberk, may I?”

The Ent creaked as it bowed slightly.

“Hey Nefarias Mora, my name is Sprig.” She did a small curtsey in the air, her wings beating furiously to keep the footlong faerie airborne.

“Hi…are you here to translate?”

“Actually, yes. It seems you’re not much of a talker, so I’ll make this quick. Mossenberk blooms fruit every 133 years. This year however, the fruit were stolen and we, as the Karplusan Council, need them returned.”

“They’re just fruit?”

Sprig fluttered impatiently. “They are not just fruit. They are the Fruit of Elder Knowledge.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re at much of a loss, you all seem pretty smart. Except maybe that one over there,” Nef said, pointing at the Gorilla.

Sprig chuckled quietly. “Your charisma is something else. And yes, you are right. We don’t need them for ourselves, per se. But we do need them.”

“Will you tell me why?”

“If you agree to help us.”

Nef looked back at the others. She looked back over the side. It sounded like something … ‘mazey’.

“Whatever. Sure, I’ll help.”

“Come with me,” said Sprig. She looked around at the others and ushered Nef away quietly.



“Do you want some tea?”

Nef looked at what Sprig was making. It was sparkly pink. “Uh… no thanks.”

“Okay.” Sprig suddenly lowered her voice. “Okay, so you said you’ll help, right?”

“Uh.. yes.”

“Sh-sh-shh,” said Sprig hastily. “Keep your voice down, I don’t want the others to hear.”

“Okay, what’d you want me to do?” whispered Nef.

“I want you to find one of the fruits. Just one.”

“But there’s 19 of you.”

“Yes. Exactly. But like I said, we don’t eat the fruit. We trade it. We trade it with the Mer in the Moonring Isles.”

“For what?”

“You ask a lot of questions, Nefarias.”

“Yes, I want to know what I’m getting myself into.”

Sprig sighed. “We trade them for shells of water.”

“Sounds like a rip-off…”

“It’s not. I’m over 130 years old.” Sprig pulled a suggestive pose.

“Not bad I suppose. You could tone up a little. What’s so special about the water, then?”

“It trades wisdom for youth.” Nef could hear a tinge of hurt in Sprig’s voice. “We don’t need wisdom, which the fruit gives, as we are educated well. The Mer don’t need the water because they live in it. So it’s a valuable trade for all of us.”

“You still haven’t explained why you want me to get only one piece of fruit.”

Sprig lowered her voice even further, so that Nef had to lean forward to listen even with her superb hearing.

“I want to overthrow Leshy as council.”

“Easy.”

Sprig smiled. “You think so? Okay, rest here, I’ll teleport you to the Moonring Islands tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Nef immediately murmured Redemption’s incantation and sighed as warm, golden light bathed at base of her tail. As it took effect, she immediately felt groggy. “I’m going to sleep now, wake me up when you’re ready for me to go.” She didn’t wait for Sprig’s response as she walked to a nearby hammock and slumped into it. It was tiny, only just able to cup Nef’s butt.

“Uh Nefarias, th-uh, that’s my bed.”

“Call me Nef.”

“Oh, okay Nef. But that’s my bed.”

Nef responded with a sharp snore. Sprig sighed in defeat.



Nef was awoken by a buzzing, which turned out to be Sprig flapping by her ear.

“Wakey wakey, sleepy head. I made you breakfast.”

Nef rubbed her bleary eyes. “Oh wow, thanks.” She looked at the offering and felt part of her gratitude slip away. It was some fried vines and some other vegetation.

“Eat up, you have a big day ahead of you!”

Nef felt slightly unsettled as she ate the food, but it wasn’t actually too bad. A little chewy, maybe.

“Okay, so remember. Find the fruit, trade it for water.”

“Okay.”

“If you’re ready, come outside.”

Nef adjusted her chains and walked out the door to the deck. Sprig stood at the edge. “Stand here.”

Nef stood and watched as Sprig stood behind her. Nef suddenly realized what was about to happen. She spun around. “I thought I was going to be helping you.”

“You are. But I don’t know how to Planeswalk. You do.” With that, Sprig shoved Nef over the side.

That bitch. Nef snatched at Sprig with her tail and managed to hook round her ankle. Nef laughed as Sprig’s dress flew over her head and the faerie was dragged down.



SPLASH!

Nef landed in ice-cold water. She gasped as she paddled at the surface. She suddenly remembered Sprig was wrapped in her tail. She brought her tail up and heard coughing and spluttering.

“Wh-what the h-hell is wrong w-with you?” squeaked Sprig angrily.

“You p-pushed me.”

“I was help-ping you. L-look. It’s M-moonring Island. J-just like I p-promised.”

Nef could feel her body getting sluggish in the freezing water. She paddled clumsily to the nearby shore, feeling the weight of the chains and Acheron’s mace fighting to pull her under the waves.

Before she got near land, she found sheets of ice.

Better than nothing.

She grabbed onto the ice with the intention of pulling herself up out of the frigid water. But every time she grabbed some, it would snap or melt into the ocean. She looked back and saw Sprig had turned a light shade of blue. She wouldn’t last much longer if she had to stay swimming. With serious effort, Nef managed to place Sprig on the ice with her tail.

Nef watched as Sprig lay on the ice, shaking uncontrollably.

I have to get out of here before I become an ice-cubbus.

Nef giggled at her lame joke, before returning her focus to the task at hand.

About five minutes later after swimming, pushing Sprig and melting ice, she finally found a piece thick enough to sustain her weight and body heat. She pulled herself out of the water and lay next to the little faerie. Steam billowed as Nef’s demon-blood burned at the ice. She knew she had to get on her feet before she burned through the ice and fell back into the sea. She pushed herself up and staggered to her feet, the hissing of the ice subsiding. She leaned down and scooped up Sprig before noticing with horror that little ice crystals had begun to form on her soggy dress.

She tore through Sprigs dress with one of the knives that hadn’t been frozen during the swim, so the wet material would stop freezing her to death. Steam hissed as Nef held Sprig close to her and she began walking carefully to the shore.

“I know right, like, I can’t even deal right now.”
“Literally, like, the worst thing ever.”
“Oh-em-gee, did you like, stab him with your trident?”

Nef suddenly heard teenaged voices floating through the air. They were close. She walked tentatively to the far side of the ice. She looked into the ocean and saw three beautiful women bobbing in a triangle. Their hair were shades of blue, green and white, much like the water they were floating in. Nef looked into the glass water and noticed that they didn’t have legs. They had fish tails.

“Mermaids!” Nef blurted out.

All three of the mermaids turned to look at her, pointing their tridents.

“Oh my god. Ew, she has legs.”
“Wow, her child’s like, naked.”
“Why is she staring at us? That’s totally perverted.”

After a pause, Nef noticed one of them looking her up and down.

“Hey, Tsuna, she looks horny.”
“Hahaha, that’s sooo funny Typh. Cause of her head right?”
“Um no, Tida…look at her bra.”
“Oh…”

With that, they ducked under the water and disappeared into the frosty depths.

What the…

Nef felt Sprig stirring.

“Hey, Sprig, are you okay?”

“I think so. You’re so warm.”

Nef smiled with relief. “I just saw – “

“Why the hell am I naked?!”

“Oh, I can explain, your dress was – “

Sprig closed her eyes and sighed. “It’s okay. This is natural, I think I can deal with it. It’s how I was brought into this world. It makes sense that it is how I should stay in this world…”

Nef zoned out as Sprig babbled on in attempts to justify her situation.



Nef and Sprig finally made it to the coast. The beach itself was littered with shells of various sizes. Sprig sat on Nef’s shoulders, holding on to her two horns for balance.

“We need to find a good shell.”

“What for?”

“The water.”

“Oh, right.”

Nef began scanning the coastline as she traipsed through the snowy beach. Frost crunched underfoot and the wind howled as if in pain.

“So, what can you tell me about this place then, Sprig?”

“Well. It’s a collection of various islands. Each devoted to its own wind. Each devoted to its own natural disaster. We are on the Northern Island. That’s why it’s so damn cold.”

“Wait, so if we were on the Southern Island, it would be a tropical island?”

“Yep pretty much.”

“For pity’s sake.”

“Well, it’s better if you prefer volcanoes. But here you just have to deal with the ocean.”

Nef looked at her demonic skin. “You know Sprig, I think I’d be okay with volcanoes. Just a suspicion. Tropical Island and volcanoes. Wow, what a disappointment.”

“Well no use crying about it now. Look, there’s a good shell.” Sprig pointed to Nef’s right. Nef bent down and picked it up. It looked like a scallop shell, but was much larger and deeper.

“Now we need to find our fruit and fill up.”

“Where do we do that?”

“Well, first we have to find a mermaid or naga, and they’re really hard to find. Takes days sometimes.”

“I found some.”

“Where?” Sprig sounded frantic and Nef felt her rocking as she tried to get a better view.

“Oi, cut it out. It was like half an hour ago.”

“What? Did you see where they went?”

“I didn’t think it was important.”

“Oh, treeleaves!”

“Sorry?”

“Pardon my language, but that was really unfortunate.”

“Wait, they’re back!”

Nef watched as what she assumed was the three mermaids swimming back, accompanied by a larger sea creature. She walked to the edge of water, watching as they came into the shallows.

“Hey, gorgeous,” they chorused. Their voices harmonious and seductive.

They could give me a run for my money.

“You come bearing giftsss?” The deep hiss made Nef jump. She looked at the fourth creature and realized it was the beast from the maze. She felt Sprig’s legs tighten their grip around Nef’s neck.

Nef heard Sprig’s voice in her ear. “That thing is a Naga, it’s basically a male mermaid. This one stole our fruit.”

Nef pulled out Acheron’s mace and set it alight. It blazed furiously as she brandished it at her four enemies.

The three mermaids hissed. Their eyes rolled back, leaving blank white stares and their teeth became sharp. Long tongues flicked out as they pointed their tridents back at Nef.

The naga slithered out of the water. “Calm your storm, Earthbound. We do not wish to fight.”

Nef looked at the three mermaids, who had returned to their original states, lying lazily in the shallows.

“My name is Lantisss. I recognize both of you. Nefariasss Mora, Knight of Desssire, of the Orzhov Sssyndicate, Champion #12 of the Dragon Maze; and Sssprig Vunsssommer, Master Botanissst of the Fae Order and Massster Ssstrategist of the Karplusssan High Council.”

“We want what you took,” squeaked Sprig.

Lantis laughed. “You mean thisss?” He revealed a vermillion fruit. “The fruit of Elder Knowledge. A trade for Water of Ignorant Youth, yesss?”

“Youthful Ignorance… hold up your end of the bargain!”

“I have. What do you think you’ve been ssswimming in for the lassst hour?”

“That’s ridiculous!”

“Isssit? Your diction has changed. You’re prettier, but more … ssstupid.” He cackled.

“I don’t believe you!” shouted Sprig. “Give me back my fruit!”

“Thisss fruit? You’ll have to kill me firssst.” With that, he threw the fruit into his mouth. Nef watched in shock as the juices ran down the naga’s chin. “Deliccciousss…”

“You brute!” squeaked Sprig.

“I feel ssmarter already,” Lantis hissed.

“Tell me then,” said Nef. “Why are you only 7 foot here, but you had to be 10 foot in the maze?”

Lantis pondered. “Well, ssince you’ll be dead anyway, I’m ssure the maze won’t mind. It will give me ssuch ssatissfaction. Your home maze is bassed on fear. Everything there is dessigned to cause panic. To make you make the wrong decissions.”

“So it’s all illusion?”

“Not exactly, but yess. Take me for example, I might look 10 foot, but I’m not. I could sstill kill you easily though.”

“Easily?”

Lantis smirked. “Yess.”

“We’ll see about that.” Nef relit Acheron’s mace.

“There’s no need,” chimed Sprig.

“Sorry?”

“I believe there iss…”

“Nope. You’re dead already,” said Sprig.

Lantis leaned on his trident. “Do explain.”

“That fruit isn’t the Fruit of Elder Knowledge. You think we would grow such a powerful fruit and not have it guarded. So a simple naga like yourself could steal it from under our noses? You think a fruit takes 133 years to grow and harvest? That’s ridiculous.”

“What iss it then?”

Nef could hear the panic in Lantis’ voice set in.

“It’s a simple Elder berry. None of the upside, all of the downside. You see, we mix the berries with a special ingredient. One of pure knowledge. One that takes 133 years to grow.”

Nef watched as Lantis’ scaled began to dull. “You tricked me!” he shrieked, as teeth fell from his mouth. “Typh, Tsuna, Tida! Come here, cry for me, give me your tears!” His shriek became a wheeze as he collapsed into the sand, the crunch of his brittle bones audible. The three mermaids huddled together, frozen in fear. “You worms, help your naga!” His skin began to tighten around his bones and his scales began to peel from his skin. Nef was frozen herself, watching as Lantis’ twitches became less and less frequent, before they simply stopped. A once proud and mighty seasnake, reduced to a deflated mass of flesh.

“What the hell…” Nef looked to the three mermaids who had begun to bawl their eyes out. Nef looked at the shell in her hand. Their tears must be important. She rushed over to the three creatures.

“Wait!” said Sprig.

“What?” Nef had already started catching their teardrops with the shell.

“Their tears are poisonous!”

“Huh? But Lantis –”

“I know what Lantis said. But truth is, we’ve never found the Spring of Ignorant Youth. Only stories, and we’ve tried extracting tears from Mermaids, and every time they’ve rendered the drinker to being babbling idiots.”

Nef looked at the tears swirling round in the shell. They were silver, like mercury, but more transparent.

“Wait a minute,” said Sprig. “They’re silver. Normally they’re gold.”

Suddenly one of the mermaids piped up. “Gold are sad tears. Silver are happy ones. Like you Earthbound, we have a special procedure too. Drink the gold tears and you’ll simply become ignorant.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “My names Typh.”

“Nef. This is Sprig.”

“Pleasure. You’re lucky normally we cry our happy tears into a shell and leave them on one of the coasts for us to get later. Lantis tortured us for tears but we would never give them to him. He didn’t understand so we pretended to be stupid to make him think that the seawater was the ‘spring’. Myself, Tsuna and Tida are in your debt. Thank you and please, take this as a symbol of our gratitude.” Typh held out a whistle made of shell. “If you need us, we will come.” The three mermaids nodded and swam out to the depths.

“Well that’s all well and good… but we still need to find the fruit,” said Nef, in despair.

“No worries. You’ve had it all along.”

“Huh?”

“The fruit is metaphorical. I am the fruit.”

Nef’s jaw dropped. “Why didn’t you tell me that earlier?”

“Because then you would never have got the tears.”

“Wow.”

Sprig smiled. “Let’s go back to your Maze.”

“Don’t you need to go home? Weren’t you going to overthrow Leshy?”

“No, she’s a good leader. I just said that to motivate you.”

“Well okay. But… I don’t know how to go back.”

“Think back to every time you have Planeswalked. What happened?”

Nef closed her eyes and tried to remember. “Well… most of the time I fell…”

“Exactly.”

“So I have to fall?”

“You have to believe that you fall.”

Nef looked at the shell in her hand. “I don’t want to spill it. Should I drink it?”

“That’s a decision I can’t help you with. But for the record, you won’t spill it if you Planeswalk.”

“You sure?”

“Trust me.”

Nef looked at the swirling liquid. She brought it up to her lips and tipped the liquid toward her. Then her eye caught her reflection. She was still young and she didn’t have much intellect to be fair.

“You hold it. I think it would be a better idea for me to eat you instead.” Nef giggled.

Sprig blushed but didn’t respond as she grabbed hold of the shell.

“Okay here goes.” Nef wrapped her tail round her leg and crossed her arms. Her heart beat faster as she moved her weight to her back. She felt herself falling backward, falling into the empty abyss.

“Wait! I didn’t think where I wanted to go!” but it was too late.



Nef somehow landed back in the Maze feet first.

“I made it?”

“You already knew where you wanted to go. You didn’t need to consciously think it.”

“I…I see.”

“Don’t worry. You’re amazing Nef. I am so happy I was able to share this adventure with you.”

“You too, Sprig. You taught me so much.”

“That’s what I do, Nef.” Sprig smiled.

Well done! Boomed the Maze

Oi, Maze, we were having a moment.

Quite. But you haven’t finished yet.

The wall in front of Nef creaked open, bricks sliding away from one another revealing a statue of a nude woman in gold.

If I win Maze, I want you to build one of these of me.

We’ll discuss it later. Sprig, welcome back. I trust you remember how to complete the ritual? By the way, I like your outfit.

“Nef, would you pour the tears into the statues mouth?” asked Sprig, completely ignoring the Maze.

“Uh, yup sure, I guess.”

Nef scaled up the statue quickly and sat poised with the shell above the opening. Once Sprig had assumed her position, Nef poured the silver liquid down into the gold statue’s mouth. As Sprig suckled, Nef watched as the faerie shrunk in size. By the time the tears had run out, Sprig was no bigger than Nef’s thumb. She glowed a bright gold that lit the corridor. It was a soothing addition.

Congratulations, Nef. Another trial passed with flying colours.

Thanks, what was up with before and Lantis?

Hard to explain. But let’s just say, you owe me a naga.

D.M. Sprig piped up

Yes?

I want to tag along with Nef. I don’t have to Planeswalk with her.

I’ll think about it...

“I could always do with some company.”

“I know.”

“By the way, you were pretty stunning for 133 years old.”

“I know.”

The two giggled quietly as they made headway to find Nef’s next trial.