Qube decided that she should perhaps keep her potentially dangerous discussions with Definitely Bad Guy for a time in which there wasn’t someone else around to tell on her to the Chosen One. Said Chosen One, having reassured her that he wouldn’t be reporting this conversation, and thus accidentally informing her that the devs weren’t, for whatever reason, capable or interested in directly observing her, went back to his favourite pastime: looting.

Having collected all the inner loot of the various bats, the Chosen One led the party through another dark archway and into a strange arena. The entire surface was littered with feathers and tufts of fur and, there in the middle, there was what Qube could only assume was the rejected griffin. It turned to look towards them and it took all of Qube’s bravery not to flinch. Its eyes were filled with a maelstrom, black and silver swirling within its pupil. Rather than the rich golden fur of the griffins, or the shining feathers of the Flitter Folk, it looked like the ghostly child of both. The floor underneath it was covered in silvery runes that glowed as it moved.

“You shall not disturb his quest,” the spectral creature snarled. Small bolts of lightning snapped around its mouth.

The Chosen One waved his hand through the customary Save Point, making sure to stay away from the others.

“Boss time,” the Chosen One cheerfully declared, rolling his shoulders. “I think — “

But before he could finish whatever he’d been about to say, the unadopted cat-bird roared. It spat out lightning and thunder, and launched itself towards them at top speed.

“[Lesser Shield],” Qube desperately cast. Neither the Hunter nor the Mage could get a shot off, it was moving so fast, but the Bard was already strumming.

“Easy, easy,” the Chosen One said, dancing out of the way just in time. He looked at the Boss, frowning slightly. “Wait, you're just the lion! Or rejected griffin or whatever. You’re supposed to be after the Boss, aren’t you? Man, they really messed —”

The "lion" slammed into the wall just next to the Chosen One’s head.

“I gave myself to the Storm!” the rejected griffin roared, crackling as it moved. “All shall be consumed!”

“Intense,” the Chosen One said, which didn’t seem to calm the so-called lion down much. He pulled out his goo gun and, sticking his tongue out slightly in concentration, fired off a glob of green.

The lion’s paw, which had just touched down on the wall, no doubt to use the momentum to launch itself into another attack, was splattered with the goo, sticking its paw down. It tugged at the goo, then roared angrily.

If it hadn’t been for the life-threatening scenario, it would have looked almost comical, this massive beast made of elemental magic desperately trying to unstick itself from the wall. The Chosen One jumped over to the lion, his Sacred Sword glowing as it sliced into the beast.

“Chosen One, wait!” Qube cried out. The Chosen One’s sword was made of metal — had he learned nothing from the bats? — this could only end poorly. However, whatever spells made the sword Sacred were stronger than a mere manifestation of the Storm itself. He managed to get in several solid hits before the storm-lion broke free and shot off again, this time targeting the other party members.

“Stop! We’re here to help!” Qube called to the beast only to realise that a) she actually wasn’t sure if they were there to help or kill the lion and b) she was still invisible.

The cat-bird, having started zipping around the room again, revealed the sheer size of the arena with its lightning trails. It looked like the Chosen One was going to have to fly around the room, dodging its lightning-fast (literally) attacks, while carefully aiming and shooting with the goo gun. Then, in the few precious seconds of stillness while it unstuck itself, stab at it with his sword until he hurt it badly enough it could no longer attack. He would also have to either protect his companions on the ground or order them to join the aerial battle and potentially get rammed into by the deadly beast.

This was going to be an epic battle.

The Chosen One, however, seemed to have other ideas.

“Here,” he spun out of the way of another attack from the lion, and threw everyone a “goo gun.” Squiggles caught eight, and started happily waving them about, while the others all grimly armed themselves. Qube, naturally, was too busy shielding and remaining ready to [Heal] to arm herself.

Her role was support, after all.

The Hero ran towards the side of the arena, where there were rising benches, and started jumping up the tiers. The rejected griffin followed, leaving streaks of lightning in its wake.

The Chosen One turned around and faced the creature, jumping out of the way at the last moment.

“Fire!” the Chosen One ordered.

Everyone fired at once. The beast was battered in goo, gumming it up so badly that it was plastered to the floor. Each gob of green goo stuck down another limb or patch of body, attaching it to the floor. Only its face was uncovered, although its mouth was also gooed shut.

Qube looked at the creature which, up until a few seconds ago, had been terrifying. But it was hard to be intimidated by a giant glob of green goo that was making muffled roaring noises and vaguely rocking in place. The frustrated outrage in its eyes only added to the frankly pathetic effect.

The Chosen One walked up to the until recently nightmare enemy and started casually stabbing it through the goo.

Qube felt vaguely cheated. This was supposed to be an epic battle! But instead, they’d just ended up defeating the lion with a bunch of tubes. It was very unsatisfying. Not that she’d wanted any of her friends to get injured! She, obviously, was very grateful that no one had gotten hurt.

And yet...

The Chosen One looked up and noticed Qube’s expression.

“What’s up?” he asked as he continued to casually stab the beast.

“Oh, nothing, Chosen One!” Qube said brightly. “I was just noticing that there weren’t a lot of enemies in this Temple. It feels like it was more the environment that was testing our worthiness, rather than employees or bosses for us to fight.”

“I mean, we kinda cheesed this boss a fair bit,” the Chosen One said. Seeing her confusion, he clarified, “I mean, we defeated it in a way we weren’t supposed to, making it easier. Thanks to your baby-making skills! Nope, I hated that,” he said, pulling a face. “That was not okay.”

There was a terrible roar from the pile of goo, which suddenly vanished, leaving behind a much smaller pile of fur. The lion had lost its lightning aspects, and instead just looked like a normal (albeit rather strange and feathery) large cat.

“How could they?” it asked, in a decidedly masculine voice. “How could they?”

The storm swirling around the arena vanished. The ceiling that had been high above them opened up as the clouds parted, revealing the sun. All around them, the black clouds that had made up their environment lightened into whiteness, becoming partly transparent, allowing the party to see the mountain range. The storm that had raged seemed to gather itself up, and pour down into the rune on the arena floor, gradually dispersing until only sunlight remained. In the centre of the rune there was a griffin feather, and a Flitter Folk feather.

“Choice, choices,” the Chosen One said. “Hold on, let me save before we try anything.” The Hero turned around and looked at where the Save Point had been before. Now, however, it had disappeared, as had the archway they’d entered through. Qube gasped, and rushed towards the now blank wall.

“Don’t freak out,” the Chosen One called to her. “There’ll be a portal, remember? Although normally the Boss dissolves or something…” he looked at the lion, who was still muttering to himself.

“Hey,” he said, prodding the lion with his foot. “Why haven’t you dissolved? Are you the one we need to make the moral choice about? Chaos/order, whatever? Is that what the feathers are about? The last one was feathers too. Or maybe pearls. Hang on, don’t tell me, I’ll remember.”

“How could they?” the lion asked again, pitfully. He looked up at the Chosen One, his now-golden eyes awash with tears. Even though the lion had been trying to kill them, Qube felt herself stepping forward, her heart moved by such raw grief. Now that he was no longer imbued with lightning, she could see where tears had worked their way through his fur, leaving trails in their wake.

“I was born to them, and they rejected me. I was raised with them, and they rejected me.” The lion bowed his head, mane and feathers intermingled. “All I ever wanted was to be accepted. But the one thing I cannot change about myself is the reason that neither family will love me.”

For once, the Chosen One was silent, as he stood and stared at his fallen foe.

“The Storm promised me wings, if I could but bring it flight. I thought the feathers of the Flitter Folk would be enough, so I stole them. I know it was wrong, but all I wanted was to fly. To be loved.” The lion heaved a massive sigh. He sat on his haunches, and looked at the Chosen One. “I will accept your judgement. One of those feathers will make me into a griffin. The other, a Flitter Folk. Or you may decide that my crimes have been too great, and slay me. The choice is yours.”

“Woah,” the Chosen One said. “Three options? Now I see where all the manpower went for this place. They really broke the bank on this one. Man, this is way too serious.”

He sounded on edge, not that Qube could blame him. What a terrible choice to have to make! A terrible, pointless choice!

“Chosen One,” she whispered, even knowing the lion couldn’t hear her. She reached out and tugged on his arm. “Chosen One, this is absurd!”

“You’re telling me,” the Chosen One snorted. He blinked, as what she said sank in. “Wait, what d’you mean?”

“He doesn’t need to be either!” Qube hissed. “We should just talk to him, get him to accept himself. And to the griffins and Flitter Folk! They both sound like they need a good talking to. Imagine rejecting him just because he wasn’t what they expected, and was different from them! That doesn’t mean he’s not useful. In fact, he could probably do things that neither group could! He could fit into smaller places than the griffins, and protect the Flitter Folk from bigger threats! He doesn’t deserve to be destroyed, just because he isn’t one or the other, he deserves to be his own self!”

Qube puffed out her cheeks in outrage at the narrow minded stupidity that stopped the griffins and the birds from realising their own good fortune.

The Chosen One was giving her a look she’d only seen a few times. A kind of fascinated pride that mixed approval with surprise.

“I mean, yeah, that would be sensible,” he said eventually. “But that’s not gonna happen.”

“Why not?” Qube asked indignantly. “We can talk to him — or, well, you can talk to him, and make him realise his own worth!”

“I don’t think he’s capable of it,” the Chosen one said. Qube’s breath was taken away by his blunt brutality.

“Of course he would be capable of it!” she nearly gasped. The Chosen One grimaced at her enraged tone.

“No, I mean… “ he looked around the room, as if searching for inspiration. He must have found some somewhere, because he continued: “I mean, it would take a really, really long time, right? To fix a lifetime of being treated like he was less than, y’know? And we have to save the world. So we don’t have time to sit here and try to heal his inner wounds or whatever.”

Qube drew herself upright.

“What kind of Heroes would we be, if we let him suffer needlessly, just because we didn’t want to even try?” she asked, her words hard enough to have been chiselled in stone. “If you do not wish to try, then please ask him if I would be able to [Heal] him, so that we may speak.”

The Chosen One threw up a hand, as if to ward off her glare.

“Okay, okay,” he said, walking to the lion’s side. “Hey buddy,” he asked the lion, who was still awaiting his judgement. “You wanna talk to my invisible friend?”