“Start!” Jeseria commands. The ascendants take off toward their respective tunnels with their watery orbs in tow.

Ian? Maria says.

What?

You’re not moving? She subtly raises an eyebrow and looks toward the tunnels.

I’m observing, I reply. Do they look like they’re rushing to you?

...No.

When preparing for the Fassari Summit, I pored over countless videos of duels, both for one-on-one combat and for battle royale style group matches. These people move like those experts–carefully, unrushed. Aware of their surroundings.

Speaking to the proteges earlier, they didn’t know what the pageant challenges would be, but they did have general advice: To remember that the pageant is a show.

If it’s a show they want, I’ll give it to them.

Tendrils of dark energy ensconce the large orb of water. I lean and glide forward. As the orb slips through my Death energy net, the darkness crackles with blue lightning. I smile inwardly–my intuition was right. Unless you’re a water elementalist, ascendant energy is the key to transporting the orb. I saw some of the others using their ascendant energy, but hadn’t been sure if that was showmanship or a requirement.

But while showing the blue fulmination is dramatic and impressive to most people, the ascendant audience won’t be impressed. Karanos always said that using energy externally in such an obvious manner was sloppy. No–it’ll be more impressive to hide the energy within the oily darkness.

Maria steps lightly behind me, easily keeping pace without using ascendant energy.

Don’t reveal that you can practice and wield ascendant energy, I transmit. At least, not yet.

Fine. She tilts her head. Everyone else has long since left you behind.

She’s not wrong–I’m the last person here. They aren’t that far ahead–I can sense them.

Can you sense the tunnels?

The tunnels are difficult to make out, the earth shrouding them in inanimate black. Not very well, but they’re just a short detour before the real maze–the citadel itself. My lips quirk into a slight smile. And there, I can sense nearly everything–the walls aren’t thick enough to obscure my perception.

I sweep into the tunnel with a self-assured expression, all the while praying that the fat globe of water–twice as large as the others–will squeeze into the tunnel’s entrance.

For a moment, the orb jams, but the Death energy around it deforms–elongating to squeeze through. I clench my fists in relief as the orb trails a few feet behind me, with Maria picking up the rear, her footfalls nearly silent.

Without warning, a spike stabs diagonally up from the earth toward my chest. An elementalist must be controlling it–I’m certain I would have sensed an inconsistency in the inert, dark plane of the floor if there was a hidden trap and trigger.

Naturally, I duck around it.

Nice dodge, Maria says, sidestepping around the spike.

I snort. It wasn’t aimed at me, but the orb. Thankfully, Messeras’ reflex training allows me to jerk the large ball of water away fast enough. Two more spikes threaten the orb's integrity on our journey through the tunnel, but their aggression is half-hearted. After all, what kind of show would this be if us ascendants failed the challenge in the first few seconds?

I take advantage of the lax offense to focus on the ascendant proteges emerging into the citadel. So far, they haven’t encountered further traps or dangers. I sense a Dark practitioner making gestures on the walls like she’s writing, but her partially incorporeal vitality is hard to track. On the opposite side from me, a water elementalist has turned a wing of a library into a world of ice, twenty feet around herself and the orb frozen solid.

For good cause, I think. Twenty feet of ice might stop other elementalists, but it won’t stop a Dark practitioner who can turn incorporeal...and it won’t stop me.

But she isn’t just a water elementalist. Relaxing next to the orb as though in meditation, she keeps her eyes open and alert, albeit unfocused. At a far distance, and without much time, I might be hard pressed to correctly read her vital signature and discern her affinities. But while chatting at the party, I had plenty of time to read the room.

The woman’s Moon affinity is the source of her elementalism, but she also has a vital signature like Eury’s...like that of a Regret practitioner, I transmit.

Then let’s avoid her at all costs, Maria replies. Not worth it. How many other Regret practitioners are there?

Two others.

Remorse?

I hold up two fingers.

She groans softly. Also worth avoiding, if possible. Though if they’re as powerful as Suncloud, I doubt your chances against them.

If they’re as powerful as Suncloud, they wouldn’t be proteges.

Jeseria said that the trial is hide and seek, and our task to defend our water from stalkers–whatever that means. Perhaps stalkers will be some kind of construct or living monstrosity.

There is no given time limit or exit condition.

Maria, how do you think this all ends? I ask, curious if she is thinking the same thing I am.

When only one person is left with an orb.

That’s what I thought as well. I wonder if it’s pointless trying to protect the orb in the beginning–might just be easier to let it be destroyed or stolen, and to wait until the end and steal the orb of another.

It is called hide-and-seek, Maria notes. People will either come for you, or you can come for them. And don’t forget, you’re all on a ten-minute timer–if you kill people now, they’ll revive back in the party room.

And outside the challenge, I continue. Will they be disqualified?

She tips her head. Possibly.

But later on, they’ll respawn and come back, I conclude. So, sounds like offense–seeking–is the way to go for now. I pause. Maria–you don’t have a ten minute timer.

Ever since I started venturing into dangerous zones like the lost quadrant where I might lose my storage rings, Karanos has been holding onto her phylactery. I have it in Messeras’s void ring now, however. I presume that if she dies, she’ll respawn next to wherever the ring is–be that on my finger, or on the ground.

Rather than seeking, I’ll hide with the orb and try to create Death constructs to both defend and attack. Meanwhile, why don’t you show these people what you’re made of?

She smiles. I may not be a proper ascendant, but I’ll see what I can do.

As Maria and I enter the castle proper, passing through a thick wooden door, spikes suddenly surge upward toward the orb like metal fangs. Sure, everyone else managed to avoid the spikes but me. Great.

Since the spikes erupt behind me, I don’t react fast enough to pull the orb to the side. Thankfully, Maria darts forward and pinches the Death energy net with fingers coated in ascendant energy, tugging it out of the way at the last second.

Disaster averted, she transmits.

There must be a way to avoid the traps.

Ian...I know you said that you’re watching everyone moving around, but let me ask a silly question. Are they just walking through the doors, or doing things more interestingly?

Well, the Dark practitioner phased through the walls. She was even able to turn her orb incorporeal, which feels like a cheat. The ice-wielding practitioner went through doors, but encased everything around her in a layer of ice. I could see that preemptively stopping traps from activating.

It’s difficult to track the activities of the other, further ascendants; while I can still see their vitality through the walls, the layers of wood, metal, and miscellaneous materials cover everything like a dirty window.

I think they might be doing more than simply walking through, I admit.

Then what are you waiting for? Get creative.

Despite Maria’s encouragement, I don’t have any particularly bright ideas for going through the doorways without triggering the traps. Instead, I simply empower a leg with ascendant energy and kick the door in.

Except it doesn’t break. A new dent glares at me, then heals before my eyes, leaving spotless lacquered wood. Self-healing doors, just marvelous!

Well, it’s not like I’ve been practicing cutting through planes for nothing, I muse, eyes narrowing. I haven’t tried piercing the veil since arriving in Voidkeep; it’s probable that the veil is reinforced, like the city of Nuremvark.

Sure enough, when I coat my finger tip in ascendant energy and try to prick the veil, it resists, stretching inward like rubber.

I try to imagine what Karanos would say if he were here. He’d probably rebuke me for not concentrating the energy down enough. Karanos’ principle for splitting planes has always seemed to follow one rule: condense the energy down to one, singular point, and it’ll be more powerful than most things in the world.

Want me to just burn the door? Maria offers. I still think you should be a bit hastier. It may be calm now, but we don’t know if someone–or something–is going to come after you.

I don’t want Maria to employ her practice so soon–and for such a common task–but she’s right: why bring out a metaphorical sword–my ascendant energy–to hammer down a nail when an actual hammer will do?

The wood initially resists Maria’s flames, but after adding a bit of ascendant energy, they eat away the door. In only a few seconds, all that remains of the door are smoldering cinders.

Maria and I ultimately stop our advance through the castle when we reach one of the kitchens. She sets up a scrawl of End arrays, then goes off on her own to assassinate others. I give her vague descriptions of the Remorse and Regret practitioners because mind readers and people who see the future are hard to kill. Ideally, she’ll be able to take out at least one of the pure elementalists. In a direct confrontation they’ll be difficult to handle, but they lack versatility.

Meanwhile, I pop open the kitchen’s industrial-size refrigerator and withdraw marinating meats from their covered saucers. There’s not enough of them to create a proper construct, but they serve as a fresh source of Death energy.

If this place wasn’t so devoid of souls, I might be able to do something useful with my necromancy, creating constructs from the plentiful planks of wood.

I flex my fingers and finally dig into my satchel void storage, withdrawing my shark tooth bone whip and my leviathan riftbeast soul gem.

I suddenly sense a feeling of triumph over my bond with Maria. Did something happen? I ask.

I just killed someone.

Wait–really?

I sense amusement slightly tinged by guilt. It was Alan.

My eyes widen in realization. Ah. The pink caped man is a Mountain practitioner and earth elementalist–his perception capabilities are limited within the citadel. The stone exterior would be trivial for him to manipulate, but these inner rooms are made of wood from floor to ceiling. It’s an environment that offers none of the elemental affinities a particular advantage. It’s old wood, too–there’s no vitality that Life or Death practitioners could leverage for their practice.

I caught him by surprise, she continues. From the time I spent with him, I get a sense that he’s a lot stronger than he lets on–I just got lucky. He is Kuin’s protege, isn’t he?

I think so. Do you have his water orb now?

Yeah–I’m bringing it back now.

As the conversation fades, my stomach drops. I sense a humanoid coursing through the tunnel I came from at a rapid clip. It looks like some kind of manifestation or solid projection. I can barely perceive its form as more than a haze of rapidly-moving static.

But one thing is clear–it’s headed toward my location.

Maria, I call out. You might want to get back here. I think a stalker is coming for me and I’m not sure how dangerous it is.

I’m coming–shit!

What?

I’m being held up by another protege. Good luck.

I grasp the whip’s handle, its toothy links filling the room in a zigzag pattern like jagged teeth. The stalker is a blur of motion as it barrels through the door. I ignite the whip with ascendant energy, blue flames crackling like lightning along its length. The stalker flips off to the side after colliding with the weapon, but twists and kicks off the wall.

The whip rearranges itself before me, half-obscuring the stalker from view. But something about it seems oddly familiar. It’s humanoid, and through the shadowy veil around it I sense vitality.

Before I can contemplate further, I throw myself to the side to avoid losing my head as pale marble spikes jut out of the ground. A weeping gash splits open on my cheek.

What is with this place and spikes? Where did they come from–deep within the citadel? I can sense the marble material extending deep below, impaling through over three floors.

The world slows down, adrenaline pumping through my system. In my moment of distraction, the stalker comes close enough that I can see his features and dress clearly.

“Do you know how embarrassing it is to die third?” Alan-stalker says, flashing me a crooked grin. The expression is eerie given the unnatural flickering, shadowy layer coating his skin and clothes. “No hard feelings to die fourth, right?”