Once the golden letters faded, the world remained dark. I couldn’t see anything no matter the direction. I didn’t have a torch, or any magical ability to produce a light. Instead, I slid my hand to the neck of the once-new, now-battered shirt, unfastened several buttons, and took a deep breath. I could feel that Waldo’s Talisman was exposed to the air now, and I calmly recited the proper words to awaken it.

“Iustus anguis.”

The magical panel roared to life, and the light cast from the central blue gem gave the area a faint glow. It wasn’t enough for me to discern my whereabouts, but it did give me a sense of comfort to know that I wasn’t just completely blind.

I rotated the display, and addressed the page with the word “Skills”. Before, where it had been empty, a single word appeared now.

INDOMITABLE [ LVL. 1 ]

I have a Skill! I’m not sure what that means precisely, but I am happy to have access to some further aspect of the world of Adventure Classes.

“Clarify,” I said, and the display changed. Beneath the word “indomitable”, a couple sentences had appeared.

INDOMITABLE [ LVL. 1 ]

YOU ARE AT YOUR MOST DANGEROUS WHEN YOU ARE CRITICALLY INJURED OR AT DEATH’S DOOR. INDOMITABLE ENHANCES ABILITIES AND SEQUENCES.

I sighed.

So, I had obtained a Skill, but it would only become relevant once I’d been injured so badly that I could hardly go on. Were all Skills like this? I tried to remember if I had heard anyone else bring them up, but nothing came to mind.

I suppose I should be happy that I received one. It will surely give me that extra bit of bite if I fall into a last stand--especially with a Giant.

There had been times over the last year that I’d felt that my life would surely be at an end. Namely with the first Giant in the cave. I had faded away, positive I was going to die. But then... I didn’t. I remember waking up on a soiled mattress in some roadside tavern a week after the fight, stinking, dirty, and in a tremendous amount of pain. But I was alive. My wounds had closed up, and somehow my face had mended in that week with hardly an issue.

Father told me that a passing healer had done the work, and had asked for nothing in return, save that he play a game of cards with her. It was fortunate. Father even speculated that perhaps it was a little bit of Ilfin Luck on my part as well. I wasn’t sure that was how it worked, but I wasn’t knowledgeable enough on the subject to weigh in wholly.

I tried to get a sense of the new area I had arrived in. It was dark, which didn’t tell me much at all, and it was silent, which told me that it was possible I was here alone.

“Hello?” I asked, casting my voice into the void.

It was at that moment that I heard a grinding noise, as if a large, faraway door opening. Then, footfalls. They were heavy, and got louder as it sounded as though they were moving in my direction. I tensed, and felt for my climbing hook. This could be bad if I was suddenly attacked in the dark.

“Hello?” I asked again. It could have been unwise, but there was a possibility it was a friendly person. But, there was no response other than the calm, measured approach of the visitor, and I began to grow nervous.

The footsteps kept their pace until they sounded quite close. Then, they stopped, and my heart thudded deep in my chest. I heard movement, and then a scrape. Sparks suddenly appeared, and I stepped back, bringing my weapon out in front of me. But I wasn’t attacked. After two more scrapes, a flame suddenly ignited.

A torch.

As the flames grew, I was able to see the bearer of the lightsource. A pinned hat. A mane of unkempt hair that spilled down to broad shoulders. A naturally furrowed brow and piercing eyes. My heart leaped as I stared directly into the face of my father.

“Father!” I called out, and stepped forward, “what are you doing here? Is the Challenge over?” They had said there’d be three Trials, though…

“Hutch,” came Father’s rough voice, and his mouth turned up in a kind smile, “my boy. I’ve found you.”

“Father, what’s going on?” I asked, “why is everything dark? Has something gone wrong?”

“No,” he returned, “everything is fine. I just wanted to see you. It’s been days, my boy. They told me you’d been dismissed, I’m glad to see that was a lie.”

I bit my lip.

“I was dismissed,” I admitted, “but King Zephyr made an exception for me.”

“What?” Father asked.

“I helped Ingvald and Heldrtown stave off an attack. by a Giant,” I explained, “and as a reward, the Crown agreed to let me participate in the Challenge.”

“So, the Harbinger Arch judged you unfit, but the king…” Father started, his tone changing into something harder, “...the king saw to it to defy the ancient order, and allow you to participate anyway. That seems ill-advised, don’t you think?”

My stomach dropped. It was true. Father had always had a discerning mind, and I tended to agree with him on his assessments. He was always so sure in his decision making.

“It does, I suppose,” I said, “I felt uncomfortable about it, if I’m being truthful. I am concerned about what something as old and powerful as the magic of the First Lords might do for defying it.”

“Those damn nobles,” Father said, “always thinking their law is higher than that of the Old Court.”

I hadn’t heard Father use the term Old Court in a long time. It was the name for King Adonis the First’s rule. His legion of advisors and counsel, and the powerful magic they had crafted that had steered Cygnus through the many hardships of the past and into the kingdom it was today. It was the foundation for keeping pristine order in the realm, and was said to be the true judgement of the Crown.

“But, I got past the Second Trial, Father. There must be more to it, perhaps King Zephyr--”

“King Zephyr is an old fool,” Father said severely, “growing bloated and fat on that throne of his. His mind must be clouded with drink. No, I won’t stand for it. Hutch, you must leave here.”

“But, Father--”

“You must, Hutch,” he said, “you know why we are here in the first place. If we defy the order of the Old Court, we risk everything. You want to see them again, don’t you?”

Why would he say that? Father had always implied that there was something more to this whole event of taking part in the Challenge than met the eye, but, what was he implying exactly?

“Of course I do, Father,” I said. Something seemed to have changed in his manner, and I didn’t like it.

“Remember why we agreed to this silly farce in the first place,” Father said, “this is our only chance.”

“Yes, I know,” I said.

“Good,” he said stiffly, “then you’ll understand why you have to abandon this foolish notion of joining up, now.”

I froze.

What?

“I don’t understand, Father, I--”

“We cannot afford a mistake,” he continued, “if you carry on under a pretense, we risk upsetting the Old Court. You were dismissed, Hutch, that means that the Harbinger Arch--the gatekeeper of this process--found you wanting. If you truly believe that such an ancient magic--something so powerful it can peer into your very soul--could make a mistake like that, well, I don’t know wh--”

“I don’t think it made a mistake,” I said, “I just think that there’s something else--”

“So you think you know better than the Arch, than the Almagest. You think you understand more than the First Lords themselves? Either that, or you just don’t care what they wish. That your personal fulfillment is more important than a millennium of adhering to the specific tenets laid out at the genesis of this nation? That is selfish beyond measure, Hutch.”

“I didn’t even want to do this,” I said, “I only chose to carry on with defying the will of the Arch for the chance for you and I to continue to be a team. I was told it was important, that you were important. If we cannot work together, then everything will fall apart.”

“And who told you that?”

“The king,” I said, “and the Herald.”

“I’ve just told you my opinion of the king,” Father said, “a corpulent idiot who is more interested in what is on his plate than what is going on in his kingdom. But, Downinghawk Vallery is just as distasteful. Chasing after his father’s honor in some vain attempt to prove his own worth. No, those fools aren’t who you should be concerned with listening to, Hutch. Listen to me, you father. Petra and Grenn’s father. Everything I have done, everything we have done has been to get here so that we could…”

Father paused.

Something was wrong.

Father had never spoken to me in this way before. He wasn’t one to interrupt, unless it was by accident, as he often believed you could learn more by listening than wasting speech. I’d never witnessed him in such a fervor before, either. Even when we fought the Giants, he was as calm and quiet as a morning meadow. It also seemed strange that he kept referring to the Old Court. I’d only heard him mention it perhaps twice in my life, and now, suddenly, it was all he cared about?

I’d planned to ask him why he’d never told me about our lineage, or about my grandfather being an Equites. But now, I had such a bad feeling that I thought it best to keep my peace.

“Who are you?” I asked.

“What are you going on about, boy?” Father responded, and I could see the expression on his face was screwed up into contempt, “I’m your father. Have you lost your mind?”

“No,” I said, gripping my climbing hook tightly, “you’re not.”

He’d hinted at our true purpose before, but had never expressly said it aloud. I was tired of being in the dark about things, but, I didn’t think whoever this was would be able to shine any torchlight on the truth. I was convinced, this was not my father.

“My boy,” he said, “why do you think I am not your beloved father?”

I shook my head.

“There are many reasons that this stinks of fraud,” I said, “but one thing my father has never done is admonish me for a decision I’ve made. He has always trusted me to do what I believe to be the best choice, and knows that I don’t act selfishly. The only person consistently doubting my actions, is... myself. Father has also never told me exactly why we are here competing in this Challenge. You have pecked at it more in one conversation than Father ever has. But, you don’t say more than obscure hints, because you don’t know the answer. Because you’re not him. You’re me.”

The image of Father flickered before me, and disappeared, leaving only the sputtering blaze of the floating torch.

“Very good, Hutch Carthage,” an unsettling hiss congratulated, “you have done well. But, may I ask why you were so confident? People can change. Especially in situations such as this, where so much is on the line.”

I sighed.

If I were to be honest, there was a part of me that wanted to be wrong, and for the specter to have truly been my father so that I could confront him about his inability to share with me certain things. I knew he likely had a good reason to keep it secret, but now it felt like it was more dangerous to not know these things. But that wasn’t why I doubted whom he was.

“The door,” I said, “it had allowed me to come here. I was given a Skill. I was called Appointed. There’s more to all of this than meets the eye.”

So, this had all been part of the Challenge. Perhaps it was used as a way of determining who truly intended to see it through to the end? They'd tried to use my own fears and thoughts against me, and it had confused me. But I was a little disappointed that it hadn't been harder to figure out.

There was a rumbling, breaking sound, and I realized the voice was chuckling.

“Very well, Hutch Carthage,” the voice said.

Suddenly, light erupted all around me, and I had to hold up my arm to block the painful intrusion. I could hear loud, heavy slams and piercing clicks. There was more scraping, like a huge object being slid across a granite floor. My eyes began to adjust to the new view. As everything came into focus, I had to do a double take.

I was standing in a colossal corridor. Along either side of the passage were statues, fifty-feet tall and depicting different warriors. Some held swords, while others lifted shields. Some had no weapons at all, and instead posed with their empty hands stretched. There was a staircase at the end, with perhaps a dozen steps, beyond which was a massive archway that seemed to be leading outside. Farther on was a beautiful, sunlit field filled with wildflowers and surrounded by hills that stretched out into the horizon. But the most captivating feature was what stood in the field.

Appearing to be perhaps a half-mile away, a gigantic sword was buried into the earth. It looked to be hundreds of feet tall and made out of some shimmering white material. I couldn’t quite take a full breath beholding its majesty.

From somewhere, I heard the hissing voice, breezing through the passage like the wind.

“Welcome to the Third Trial, Hutch Carthage.”