After her resurrection, Maria could see in shades of vitality, but not like Ian–she couldn’t see beyond walls. In practice, it melded with her perception of heat, giving her an enhanced ability to discern the living from the inert.

So many people, Ian transmitted through their bond, his eyes transfixed by the looming form of the citadel, sensing the people within. I wonder if Karanos knows all of them.

Alan led them to one of the low spires near the left edge of the castle. The door he now stood before was as ornate as the others, its solid wood wreathed by golden inscriptions. When Alan placed his hand upon the threshold, it retracted sharply downward from the ceiling, revealing four sharp, claw-like spikes.

After Ian and Maria passed through, the spikes shot back up.

“Why bother with such mundane fixtures when ascendants can’t die, anyway?” Ian asked.

“Let me ask you this,” Alan said. “If intruders came here from black faction, how would we best engage them?”

“With traps,” Maria suggested. “Something to incapacitate them for imprisonment.” But a reverse-portcullis was a death sentence, not a trap.

“Wrong. We don’t want to incapacitate them–we want to boot them out. The plane is surrounded by void–there’s nowhere to stealthily enter. People can either fly directly onto Voidkeep and activate the automated defenses–I don’t recommend that–or pass through the welcome hangar. Else the only other entrance off plane is Abyssinia, which is well fortified.”

“So the strategy is to kill people as quickly as possible, before intruders stay here long enough to set their respawn point,” Ian reasoned.

“Yep. In this case, the best defense is a good offense. And...we’re here.” Alan knocked on an ancient-looking door with bronze accents. “Vik, open up.”

The door swung inward, revealing a woman with green eyes and a red tabard, her hair arranged in an immaculate updo. “Alan.” Her eyes roved over the new guests. “Who are these?”

Maria didn’t like the way that she looked at Ian. “Vik, is it? I’m Maria, and this is Ian, protege of Karanos.”

Her eyes lit up. “Karanos?” She backed away from the door, revealing the rest of the room. Maria saw twenty or so people within, all of them dressed in formal wear. The majority of the men wore brooch-cape suits, while most women wore tabard dresses, but a number sported styles incongruent with the rest. Alan’s pink cape was rather flamboyant compared to the darker colors sported by the other men.

People were talking among one another, thin glasses of colored beverages held in hand; she didn’t see anyone using their practice. It felt like a mundane cocktail party, the kind she used to frequent back home.

This feels so normal, she transmitted.

Ian reached for her arm, linking it with his.

She gave him a look. Are you sure?

It’s best to be honest, he replied, smiling. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be more comfortable at a place like this with a man on your arm.

She couldn’t even deny it–her reputation was annoyingly accurate. Instead she rubbed her shoulder against his and sighed. Shameless.

Vik tagged along next to Alan as they approached a circular platform dominated by a zebra-shaped ice fountain, its mane upright and spiked. It had a single horn just above its eyes from which the clear liquid bubbled.

Vik held up her half-finished cocktail. “Alan, show them how it’s done.”

He grabbed an empty flute from the table and held it under the fountain’s deluge. Somehow the liquid avoided his hand, funneling straight into the glass. As it filled the flute, it shimmered in hues of the rainbow like oil. When Alan withdrew his hand, the concoction began to froth.

“Wait for it,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

After the froth turned to foam, the drink settled into a light blue color. Alan dipped in his pinky finger and placed the digit in his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction and turned to Vik. “What is that? Pineapple?”

She snorted. “It’s blue–it’s probably blueberry or kamizirus fruit.”

“Pineapples aren’t blue where you come from?” Alan murmured, his eyes wide like those of a struck puppy.

Vik slapped him lightly on the shoulder. “Hilarious.”

“No, seriously,” he murmured, this time grabbing Vik’s wine flute and bringing it to his lips, smiling devilishly.

Maria rolled her eyes internally. Does immortality turn everyone back into teenagers?

Ian eagerly grabbed a flute and brought it before the fountain. Yes?

She couldn’t fully suppress the grin that lit up her face and grabbed a flute of her own. Ian’s ultimately turned pink, while hers became an orange-yellow hue.

“Cheers,” Ian said, clinking his glass to hers. When Maria brought the glass to her lips, she suddenly remembered herself–she wasn’t alive anymore.

“What does yours taste like?” Ian asked. “I think mine might be raspberry. It’s a bit sour like kombucha.”

“Why don’t you try it?” she said.

You can’t taste it, can you? he asked.

No.

Then I’ll taste it for the both of us.

Ascendants began to make their way over to meet Ian, intrigued by the latest protege. As soon as they realized she was only accompanying Ian, they focused solely on him, leaving her as an awkward third wheel with Alan and Vik.

“I hear that you and Opal have been busy lately,” Alan chatted, giving Vik his fullest attention.

“She thinks it’s past time for me to receive my first appointment, but Long Hall has been rather stingy in accepting new ascendants after Ari died. I hear that they did an audit and found some of her tactics...unsavory.”

Alan’s eyes widened. Maria couldn’t tell if he was actually interested in Vik’s gossip or Vik’s charms. “Oh really?” He glanced between Ian and Maria.

Vik hummed her assent. “I don’t know the details, but Opal’s been looking for alternative ways to impress Crimson Teeth into giving me a hearing. She’s been talking nonstop about some ridiculous ascendant academy.” She chuckled and sipped her drink. “It’s complete bullshit.”

“I’ve been wondering something,” Maria interjected. “Why do you even want an appointment to descend?”

“Duty,” Alan said quickly. “Those who descend to conduct trials work at the crossroads of destiny. They must have the discernment to send those unsuited for immortality back into the cycle of rebirth, and deftness of hand to minimize the influence of their visit.”

“In many ways, those who descend are like gardeners,” Vik adds. “Pruning the weeds. Some may argue that Eternity is big enough for everyone, and that Eternity needs ascendants...but what it really needs are the powerful.”

“See, I’ve wondered about that,” Ian interjected. “Certain affinities are much more likely to succeed in their trials than others. For instance, elementalists are best positioned to defend themselves. And what about peak practitioners without a combat focus? Why kill such individuals, rather than letting them ascend?”

Vik and Alan share a perplexed look. “It’s not so much that ascendants intentionally fail those less inclined toward direct combat, but a peak practitioner must be able to survive the initial blow of an ascendant.”

“Why–tradition?” Maria asked. Karanos had hinted that affinities with a less straightforward combat orientation had the greatest potential in a place like Eternity–people like Beginning or End practitioners. Pruning more of them from the metaphorical garden kept balance.

Alan shrugged. “Call it tradition if you like. It’s the only requirement that Long Hall has ever imposed.”

Over on his own, Ian was still fielding the questions of multiple ascendants. She caught snippets of their conversation–it seemed to be centered around Ari and Karanos. Seems like people are looking for more information regarding Vik’s gossip.

Just as Maria was considering whether to accompany–or possibly rescue–Ian from the group, the floor tiles began to light up, swirls of mist coalescing around them like cosmic dust.

Everyone raised their glasses and silence fell over the room. An ascendant in a navy cape snapped his fingers and the sound reverberated throughout the chamber.

“It’s time for another pageant,” he said, smiling wryly. “Play nice. Don’t end up like Alan last year.”

Laughter fell over the room; even Alan joined in, not taking insult.

The man in navy clinked his glass, setting off a cascade of clinks. The mist began to rotate and churn like the frothy bubbles of the fountain. As the clinks died off, the mist congealed into millions of liquid bubbles that whooshed around the ascendants.

“What’s happening, exactly?” Maria called out.

“Just go with the flow,” Alan said, wrapping his arm around Vik’s waist. “Stay with Ian–be quick about it.”

Brow furrowing, Maria walked to Ian, her heels clicking on the floor. The bubbles that brushed over her skin felt like slippery vesicles, but left her skin dry. She grabbed Ian’s hand, his palm warm against her fingers.

Did anybody mention what to expect? she asked.

We’re starting the first act of the pageant. It’s a series of different events, so to speak, new each year–a way for proteges to show off. Apparently it’s too boring for ascendants to kill one another outright.

One moment, the bubbles were pressing in on them; the next, they merged together, bathing the room in liquid. Maria floated, her hair wafting in the water. Looking around, she saw Vik tugging her hair free of its updo, while Alan stared dejectedly at his cape, the pink cloth hanging like a sad, limp fin around his arm.

Ian’s gaze wasn’t focused on anyone in particular; he often had that far-off look when he was focusing on his vital vision to inspect the surroundings.

She nudged him. Hey. What do you see?

I–

The water began to flush downward. Maria’s gaze snapped to the center of the whirlpool–the horned zebra ice fountain. Except where before it proffered flavored spirits, now it sucked in liquid through its circular base, the ice having melted. Maria was stunned by the room’s rapid transformation–before she could fully understand what was happening, she and Ian were already falling through the fountain.

As though traveling through a portal, Maria landed adroitly on dry sand; the other ascendants fell in various styles. Ian simply caught himself by his own skeleton, immediately arresting his fall. Alan fell into a handstand, while Vik formed a nimbus of wind around her legs, blow drying her outfit while also slowing her fall in an elegant manner.

Ian’s eyes swept inquisitively over the chamber. What is that dome made of? he wondered, looking at the ceiling.

Ice, Maria replied. Like the fountain from before. Can you sense what’s beyond?

He smirked. Ascendants–lots of them. I found Karanos and Kuin.

How?

Their vital signatures.

Maria averted her gaze from the dome and looked at what the other ascendant proteges were doing. Alan was giving Vik puppy dog eyes as he held up his left arm, the one the cape was clipped to, transitioning into a one-armed handstand.

Maria couldn’t help but appreciate the show of physicality–she was fairly certain Alan wasn’t using his practice or ascendant energy for the display. Vik probably felt the same way, the woman holding up a hand to her lips, her eyes creasing with mirth. She sent a small blast of air into Alan, knocking the man over–but drying him out.

Alan twisted like a cat and landed in a crouch, shooting Maria a sheepish smile.

Not a bad idea, she thought, using her Sun affinity to dry her and Ian’s clothes and hair with a wave of heat. He gave her an appreciative nod.

Alan’s expression suddenly faltered, his gaze moving between Maria and Ian. Before he could ask any questions, the dome of ice melted. Maria braced herself for a cold drizzle, but the liquid formed into bubbles of water and decelerated as they reached the ground. They clumped together until, by the end, exactly one large water ball hovered before each of the proteges.

And Maria.

Is this...a mistake? She wondered.

A moment later, as though whatever entity controlling the water read her thoughts, her water ball merged into Ian’s forming a ball double the size of everyone else’s.

Don’t you sense all of them? Ian asked.

Maria nodded. All around, beyond where the dome once stood, were thousands of ascendants seated in various thrones. Some were gilded and ostentatious, while others were more simple. One ascendant even reclined in a plain white hammock. Maria spotted Kuin leaning on a beautiful throne of violet crystal. Adjacent sat Karanos on a seat of fire and light that looked like it should be burning his suit to cinders, the man’s serious expression giving him the air of a phoenix emperor.

While Maria inspected the others in attendance, a familiar form floated down from the ceiling, her arms crossed across her chest, creasing the jacket of her violet pantsuit. Jeseria.

“The first event of this year’s pageant is hide and seek. Transport your figure of water and defend it from stalkers. If your water is destroyed, you can steal someone else’s by killing them.” She gestured to the edge of the sand floor; twenty five holes appeared in the sand, one for each protege. “These passages all lead to a different room in the main citadel. Take note that all the traps have been activated, and all of you temporarily added to the blacklist. Have fun, contestants–long travels, sound mind.”

Maria, Ian began, I don’t think mine is going to fit through the tunnel.

A moment ago she’d been worried by the unknown nature of the challenge and its implied violence, but after hearing Ian’s thoughts, she couldn’t bring herself to worry anymore. Ian might be a new ascendant–a new practitioner, at that–but something told her he’d be surprising everyone.

Just smoosh it through, she replied, making a pushing gesture. Smoosh.

Jeseria held up her hands. “Ready?”

The main chamber was silent, but Maria saw that the ascendants in the audience were talking freely with one another. Some ascendant must be using their practice to mute the audience.

The proteges tensed like coiled springs. They held onto their watery orbs in different ways; a few were obviously water elementalists and formed water leashes with which to tug the orbs around. Most, however, seemed to rely on ascendant energy, blue fulmination crackling around their fingers as they pinched the orb’s surface.

Maria glanced at Ian; he didn’t appear to be holding onto the watery globe at all. Instead he was staring off in the distance again, his hand held limply off to the side of the orb, oily Death energy mixing with ascendant blue in a spiral around his arm.

“Start!”