1.3 – Trial of Destiny I

The strange darkness fell away to reveal a chamber much like the ones Rika had passed through to get here. The same smooth gray stone walls as before, with a high vaulted ceiling supported by pillars along the edge. This time, the room was far smaller than the trial antechamber, only twenty feet in diameter. Glancing behind her, she expected to see the stone door she’d come through. Instead, she found nothing but a blank, featureless wall. Looked like the only way through was forward.

The wall opposite where she stood had three wooden doors set into it. A relief had been carved into the stone above each, depicting what she assumed would in some fashion lay beyond. The leftmost carving showed a wand superimposed over an open book. Rough characters ran along the length of the wand and across the book’s pages. Rika recognized them from her study as arcane script meant to channel magic. The central door bore a crossed sword and bow. Their meaning was fairly obvious. The final carving depicted what looked to be a bundle of herbs and a craftsman’s hammer. Given the three general skills of her Aspirant class—Basic Combat, Basic Spellcasting, and Basic Crafting—she guessed this door would take her down the path of a craftsperson.

From where he floated at her side, Chryson spoke. “The Trial of Destiny is a test and an opportunity both. Each challenge and choice you face is shaped by the path you’ve walked to arrive at each. The life you have lived has brought you here to this moment, and your choices will shape your future. Choose well, as your class is as much a part of the trial as the chambers themselves. The Watchers judge not only the choices you make and the actions you perform but also those you don’t. To choose nothing is still a choice.

“As you progress, the trial will adapt. It will change, warping itself to best determine who you would make of yourself when you step into the world once more. While the Trial of Destiny is but a shadow of the world outside, the challenges and their consequences are still very real. Upon completion, your class will be assigned based on the choices you make within the Trial of Destiny. My full capabilities as your Oracle will be released and made available to you. Together, we will set forth anew and seize that which we desire.”

Rika cast a glance at Chryson as he floated next to her, his clarion voice sounding in her mind as much as in her ears. “What do you mean by full capabilities? You’re limited while we’re inside this trial, somehow?”

“That is correct. Just as your class is but a shadow of what you will become, I am limited in both the information I can provide and my ability to guide you through what lies ahead. That does not mean I am useless, however. Just limited. For now.”

She supposed that was acceptable. Whatever Chryson’s “full capabilities” were, she could see the sense in limiting them. The Watchers placed this test before her, not before Chryson. She would just have to make do using her own wits and capabilities. At least this first choice that lay before her seemed a fairly simple one. Hardly a choice at all, were she honest.

She’d die before she took upon herself the life her father prescribed and accepted a life as a Sorceress, or Witch, or worse, a Necromancer like her half-sister. Accepting the path of a craftsperson held little interest for her, assuming that’s what the hammer and bundle of herbs represented. No, her choice was clear. She crossed the room in several certain and powerful strides, and reached for the door beneath the sign of the sword and bow.

Align to the Path of Bloodshed, and forsake: Basic Crafting?

It was information delivered both directly to her thoughts and a voice heard echoing in the space around her. She turned to where Chryson floated at her side, his unblinking eye peering at her as the tendrils twitched and whipped beneath him.

“Chryson, what’s this supposed to mean?” she asked.

“Choices have consequences, Miss Rika. This path prepares you to forge your destiny with strength and skill at arms. What need have you for the delicate ways of an herbalist or an artificer?”

She supposed that made sense. “Will I lose other skills as the trial progresses?”

Silence. She turned fully toward Chryson. He still floated there next to her, a lidless eye with four dangling tentacles and an infinite cosmic void swirling in his iris. And he still remained silent.

“Will I lose any more skills, Chryson?” she asked again.

“All choices have consequences, Miss Rika.”

Well, then. If, as he’d said before, choosing nothing was still a choice, then a non-answer was likewise an answer all its own.

She glanced to the other two doors. Three doors, and the same number of skills assigned to her Aspirant class. Each door likely asked for a different skill from her. While she’d rather give up her Basic Spellcasting, as she couldn’t see any world where she’d willingly use it, the symbols on the door were the more important choice. Maybe it was a bit dramatic in its name, but the “Path of Bloodshed” with its depiction of a sword and bow told her all she needed. She placed her hand on the door once again.

Align to the Path of Bloodshed, and forsake: Basic Crafting?

With the ghost of a thought, she gave her assent.

General Skill removed: Basic Crafting.

Stepping through the door, she found herself in an armory much like the one back at Blackstone Manor. Mortared stone walls with narrow windows suited for safely loosing arrows stretched a good dozen feet high, with platforms for archers to stand and shoot out from. The walls themselves were lined with racks bearing weapons of every imaginable sort. Wicked daggers, stilettos, and even some exotic-looking blades with a strange forward curve were laid out on a nearby table. Against one wall was a rack with nothing but bows. Massive warbows, smaller shortbows, recurves made of lacquered wood and horn, and more besides. A barrel of arrows sat nearby, stuffed with what she could only assume was an arrow for every imaginable purpose. Several empty quivers hung from a nail driven into the mortar between stones.

Racks bearing axes, maces, and hammers lined the wall to her left. To her right, the swords. One-handed arming swords, hand-and-a-half swords, and two-handers that were nearly as long as she was tall. Thin, elegant blades with ornate basket hilts sat next to massive, thick cleavers that were as much sharpened slabs of metal as they were proper weapons. Hanging from the wall and running around the perimeter of the armory were an equal variety of shields.

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Rika did the obvious thing and armed herself. She didn’t need anything fancy—just a sharp, straight blade for her left hand, and a metal-rimmed wooden shield for her right. She fastened her sword belt and strapped her shield to her arm. The loud thunk of a bolt sliding open from the far door told her it was time to move on. She hauled open the door leading to the rest of the Trial and stepped through.

Rika found herself in a narrow stone hallway. More of a cave passage upon further examination. The walls were rough, like a narrow cleft that had formed naturally had been widened with rough, improvised tools. Unlike the previous chambers of the trial, there were no lights in this passage. The gloom was a fitting companion to the smell of damp and musk that assaulted Rika as she stepped into the narrow passage. Further evidence of some kind of cave.

This was the third time the spaces she had found herself in had radically shifted from one to the next. First she’d stepped into that strange void where she’d first met Chryson. Then from that first chamber to the armory, and now into this cave passage. This trial was getting stranger by the moment, and she wasn’t certain she was inside the temple any longer. Whatever uncertainty she felt, the only way forward was through. She didn’t even bother to check if she could turn back and reenter the armory. The gods were watching after all. And apparently, judging.

The far end of the cave passage brightened. Whatever lay beyond looked well lit. Given the orange hue and the faint flickering, likely by torches. Rika pressed forward, sword and shield at the ready. Marin’s lectures back at the manor came to the fore—a passage like this could be used to funnel enemies into an ambush. Or a deadfall, or any other manner of trap or unseen danger. She moved quickly but quietly. As much as the passage prevented her from being flanked or surrounded, it also prevented her from making full use of her weapon and shield.