Oliver woke to find himself in a chair. This, by itself, was not such an odd thing, as he had fallen asleep in a chair. The oddity here was that the chair he woke up in was not the chair he fell asleep in.

The villagers’ chair had been a rough thing made from timbers with the bark still clinging to the wood and had its seat and back covered in miscellaneous pelts and furs. This chair was beautiful. It was carved from a dark wood that was polished to a mirror shine and covered in intricate, detailed carvings. The seat was upholstered in a rich, red velvet that looked like it could have just as easily been used to make a cloak for a king. Oliver had never seen such a fine chair.

It was also the most uncomfortable seat Oliver could remember sitting on. That included the chair he was assigned to in seventh grade that had a replacement bolt in the seat that jabbed him in the thigh all day long.

This new Stage was dark. Oliver couldn’t see the walls or ceiling and he could only see the floor for a few meters in any direction. The area immediately around him was illuminated, but not by any source that Oliver could see.

There was only one other thing in the lit circle of this stage, one other chair. This one was similar to the one Oliver sat in; same design, same carvings, same dark wood, same velvet cushion. The difference was that this chair was aged. Tremendously. The wood was dusty, faded, and riddled with cracks. The velvet cushion was faded and threadbare. The chair’s occupant, however, looked older than the chair itself.

Long, stringy, white hair hung down, obscuring all but the faintest hints of a face: a nose, the top of an ear, the quirked up corner of a mouth. That mouth cracked the barest hint of a smile, showing teeth undamaged by time; straight, sparkling pearls that put toothpaste commercials to shame.

“Listen to me, kid,” the ring spoke with urgency for the first time. “This Stage blocks all magical effects, which means I only have a few seconds. There is no combat. No hidden eggs. No secrets that I’ve been able to tease out. Just answer honestly, no lies. You’ll get your rewards for the last Stage once you clear this one. I’ll see you on the othe-”

The ring’s voice cut out suddenly with a pop, like someone yanked its microphone cable out of the port. The sudden silence was jarring and Oliver visibly twitched in his seat.

“There we are,” the figure across from him spoke. “Just you and me now.” Its voice was neither masculine nor feminine, young nor old. It was quiet... but powerful. Every syllable was spoken like casual conversation, yet they rattled Oliver in his very soul.

Oliver felt like a child in the principal’s office, admitting to their part of a prank gone horribly wrong when he asked, “You know about the ring?”

“Hmm,” the ring affirmed. “I know many things. About you? Everything.”

“The ring told me you just asked questions?” Oliver asked.

“The ring knows what it has seen. It has seen me many times, therefore it thinks that it understands me. Your people have walked your home ground for countless generations, human beings littering the planet like the stars in the sky, yet how many human lives had to dawn and sunset before one of them understood the concept of gravity? People see it, observe it, understand that it makes things fall, but how many truly understand it?”

Oliver had not expected such a response and was quiet for a bit. “You’re saying that the ring has a child-like understanding of you?”

“Hmm, as you say. Now, the ring told you about me, that I ask questions. Did it tell you how to answer?”

“It did. It said not to lie.”

The figure’s smile flattened momentarily. “So the cat is out of the proverbial bag...” The smile reappeared as quickly as it had left. “No matter, our little game can still prove fruitful. It is as the ring has told you, all who answer truthfully shall proceed. Knowing this, your questions might be a bit... more. A bit higher quality, you might say. Let’s start with an easy one: Why do you want to revive your wife?”

The question struck Oliver like a heavyweight jab, but he recovered and pressed on. “She didn’t deserve to die. The System message caused chaos on Earth, and she was a victim of that chaos. She deserves a chance to live on.”

“How did you meet?”

“Hey, mister!”

Oliver slowed down and pulled his earbuds out. The boy had run up beside him while he had been running laps around the track before his first class of the day. He looked a few years younger than Oliver, maybe early High School.

“What’s up, bud?”

“Who do you think would win, Batman or Spider-Man?” the boy asked. His face carried all the tell-tale signs of Down’s Syndrome along with a total earnestness in his question.

Oliver stopped running completely and tipped his head back to take a breather. “Well, that’s a heck of a question, isn’t it? They’re both stand-up dudes, why would they fight in the first place?”

This threw the kid for a loop and he paused to think it over. Oliver noticed someone else running up from where the kid had come from, a brunette girl his own age mouthing ‘Sorry!’.

Finally the kid came up with his answer. “Maybe Mysterio is making it look like they are bad guys, so they don’t know they’re fighting another good guy!”

“Solid plot. Okay, let’s think it out. Now, Batman can...”

What followed was a solid twenty minute discussion between the two on the possible ways the hypothetical fight would play out. The girl stopped and stood a few meters away, a smile on her face and her hands on her hips. The boy’s name was Brian, and his big sister Jamie was playing with him at her school while their parents ran some ‘errands’.

The comic book nerd symposium was broken up by a car horn.

“Oh, that’s my mom and dad. I have to go!” Brian got only a few steps away when he spun back around in excitement. “Hey! Your name is Oliver and that’s Green Arrow’s name!”

Oliver chuckled. “You’re right, dude.”

“Okay. Bye, Oliver! Bye, Jamie!” Brian turned around and ran for his parents’ car.

Oliver stood from where he’d been sitting on the turf and walked the few steps to where Jamie was smirking at him. “Hey,” he asked, “I didn’t get Brian’s number, can I give you mine, and you can get it to him?”

Jamie responded with a snort. “Smooth. Real smooth,” she chuckled. She flashed him a smile that made his heart jump, then turned to walk away, calling back over her shoulder.

“I don’t have a pen, why don’t you come back to my place and write it down for me?”

Oliver moved faster than he had running laps all morning.

The ancient stranger clapped two withered hands together. “Marvelous. They’ve written romantic comedies over less. A perfect meet-cute.”

“You seem to know an awful lot about Earth,” Oliver said, his voice carrying a hint of accusation.

“I told you, I know many things.”

“If you know so much, then why ask me? Don’t you already know what I’m going to say?”

The stranger drummed the fingers of his right hand on the arm of his chair. “There are many answers in your replies, beyond the story you choose to tell. Next question: What are you willing to do to bring her back?”

Oliver hesitated briefly before answering. “Anything.”

“A lie. How curious.”

Oliver panicked. “I didn’t lie, I don’t think... I meant it, I would do anything.”

“No, no I don’t think you would. You believe that you would, so I won’t hold the lie against you, but it’s not strictly true. How odd. What has changed? What weakens your resolve?”

“I am committed!” Oliver shouted. “I would do anything.”

“Would you sacrifice an innocent? Extinguish a life, a pure life, in exchange for Jamie’s?”

Oliver grew worried. “Is that what it would take? Killing innocent people?”

The stranger waved a hand. “Purely hypothetical. Now, if you succeed, if you manage to bring Jamie back to this world, what will you do then?”

Oliver perked up in his seat. “You’re confirming that it’s possible?”

“Hmm, with the System, a great many things are made possible that were not before. Not everything, to be sure, but this is but a simple task for those that have used the System for many years. Not an impossible task for one such as yourself. Difficult, yes, yet achievable. Now, my question: What will you do next?”

“I- I don’t know, exactly. I’d have to ask Jamie what she wanted to do, I guess.”

“Yet you would revive her without knowing if that’s what she wished?”

Oliver nearly rose from his chair. “Of course she would want to come back! She wasn’t ready to die!”

“Few are,” the stranger replied, not the least bit concerned about Oliver’s outburst. “Yet the question remains: Would you revive her if she did not wish it?”

“I would- I mean, I don’t... What do you mean, if she did not wish it?”

“If Jamie chose not to return to your world, would you leave her or bring her back regardless?”

“Why wouldn't she want to come back? We can’t be together if she’s dead! We loved-love each other! We were happy together! It can’t be over yet! It can’t...”

“What are you afraid of? Hmm? Afraid she will reject you, turn against you, if you have to commit atrocities in order for her to return?”

“No, I wouldn’t- No! If I can bring her back, we’ll be happy again. I know it.”

“She is not unhappy right now. She is dead. The dead are not capable of unhappiness.”

“Well, she’s not capable of happiness either, is she? I’ll get her happiness back, then she’ll die of old age with me. Peacefully, in our home, surrounded by family.”

“So, you’re fine with her dying, but it must be on your terms?”

Oliver’s frustration had gone past anger and was now only bringing him despair. “Why do you do that? Twist my answers into something horrible? Are you supposed to torture people?”

The stranger was as serene as ever in its response, “Are you frustrated by my questions or by your own answers?”

“I don’t know! Both, I guess. Why are you doing this to me?”

“I want your truth, but I need you to speak it.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“The reason for your quest. Why do you want her back?”

“If it’s possible, I owe it to her to try!”

“Why do you want her back?”

“Anyone else would do the same for their loved ones!”

“Why. Do. You. Want her back?”

Oliver’s grief and frustration peaked. His eyes were wild. Twin rivers flowed freely from his eyes. He wanted to attack the stranger, but he couldn’t leave his seat, so he clutched his hands in useless futility. He tilted his head up and shouted, “How can I possibly go on without her!?”

Stage 4 Complete!