Grisla expected a dramatic voyage, some deliriousness in the erasure of the old world of white, but instead of that, instead of noticing a change in anything—a blink of the eyes had him in Limbo. Seated just as he was. The Cardinal Four were nowhere to be seen, instead their stage prop of mist and eerie filled the absence.

“You seem to be quite calm. Is there no worry about whether you’re choosing the right thing, either way?” Seri said.

Without turning, “I’ve decided. The worst was getting up to it, not after,” Grisla said.

“They know you’re here. Master White will be on his way shortly.”

“Alright,” He nodded. “By the way…”

Seri tilted her head, “Yes?”

“You illustrated that there were many other candidates like myself in the past: Rei Jian, Xinrei Grittus; however, I never heard mention of why you chose who you chose. Both Honorable Jian and Brother Xinrei come from a strong well of talent, wouldn’t it have been best to pick someone near those two?”

“That’d be a fair assessment, yes.”

“Yes, and…?” Grisla turned. Seri wasn’t behind him, and when he came round, he found Seri’s “office” not on his neck, but in her hands.

She tapped the amulet, “I’ve been watching you. Even before you had some rodent’s sense of greed about this seemingly obvious piece of junk. I chose you because I wanted to. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Ah, I get it. More smoke-and-mirrors nonsense.

Grisla’s face was deadpan. “My intelligence isn’t a leap-and-run away from most, but Little Sister Seri, surely you can tell me—”

His face jolted, and between his eyes her two fingertips hung still. Seri was about to make another stab at his forehead but stopped.

“Why this, why that, why, why, and why. That’s the problem with you specifically Grisla. You spend more time contemplating on the whys and less time on accepting them, as they are, and for how immutable they may be. I chose you because I wanted to, is that enough for you?”

Well that’s a non-answer. Why’s she like that, anyway?

She jabbed him in the forehead again for some reason.

It felt as if he’d spent more time awaiting on the beasts than his moment of advancement back at the cave. A gouging cut of disrespect in his mortal, weak world to have their guests wait this long. He had the imaging of what it felt like to play such liberties on people; how swiftly such punishment would be doled on him after.

It didn’t take long for him to be taken to distraction, for the child in him flexed his muscles at his new, refined senses. Previously it was rather muddying to be in Limbo, a blind dog in these parts. Whenever he tried to extend his spiritual sense past the end of his fingertips for instance, there would some sort of a forcefield preventing him so, a metaphorical wall which had no height, no foundation, and a length he could only describe as endless. It was one of the reasons he couldn’t probe Seri in detail, his sixth sense wouldn’t be allowed to interact with this world.

He had no idea such a thing was possible; figuring a massive talisman array must be active someplace, he tried to use what he only could—his mortal senses of course but to no avail. They were even more useless in that endeavor. Which had him come to a question—if there weren’t any talismans written with a strange fascination to walling out perception, then could it be some other missing understanding?

He received a breadcrumb to the mystery on his arrival. That spiritual sense of his which couldn’t do before, now had some wiggle outside of his body, about a hand’s distance away before getting walled out again. This must be some of the same principles behind the vagueness while trying to inspect an expert’s level—just on a wider scale, and not inside a person. How fascinating.

Not as much as the one who stole the spotlight. The beast’s silhouette prowled through the mists, coming to them. When he breached the veil, his heterochromatic eyes: Gold and Blue, shot to who was expecting him. Grisla Orlith ditched the bow, forgot his manners, and only had the respect enough left to await on the creature’s sacred tongue. “I’m not sure if you let them fall by the wayside out of fear or relief.” The White Tiger said.

Before Grisla offered a question, like he always did, the White Tiger instinctually shook his head. “You’ve come back. Meaning you have your answer?”

The answer.

He does. Grisla raised his chin, “And, in my understanding of this, is when I get past this test your training is open for me? Just like that?”

“Something like that. You’ll be a trainee, so to speak. What would an equivalent be? An internship, I suppose. If our time weren’t so limited, we’d have more liberty at hand in being… selective with our candidates to become candidates.”

Seri sneezed during their glance.

“So, let’s just say you’re a substitute candidate to become a candidate to become our Substitute Inheritor who’ll, in a big if, one day be qualified to name himself a Substitute Sage! Doesn’t that sound fun?” The tiger’s eyes smiled.

“And if there’s a better qualified candidate, sometime in the future?”

“Let’s not talk about that.”

Grisla hadn’t made a face. Or any sort of emotional flexibility on his face since arriving. He’d driven to both ends of the spectrum—two despairs, different reactions. Leaving him as a wrung towel to dry. Funnily enough the one event for the endless night that was of most importance, Grisla hadn’t the wherewithal to prepare. He didn’t forget, he was prepared to die, accepted it and there was a witness to prove it.

The sort of fatalism the tiger was spouting he hadn’t a whit of care left for.

There was only one desire for him now—and this creature will hand it to him.

White Tiger blinked at Grisla’s shrug. “Grisla Orlith. What is your answer?”

“Will you do it, or not?”

Grisla never knew the way out of his despair was with one, simple deed. A man’s life to return another’s, a trade. “Should’ve cut to this much sooner,” He said. “This one named Grisla Orlith, heard the terms of your deal loud and clear. And the time allotted to make my decision was generous, and wise.”

“He’s doing the civilized speak again.” Seri said.

Grisla stepped forward. “With this, you can make me better than before! And all for my father’s demise! How could I not do anything but—” He hissed, “decline on the spot!”

“It’s madness!”

Seri and White Tiger’s faces changed.

The boy couldn’t drum up the theatrical effect the beasts did when they spoke, yet he felt in his own way, as he heard his tongue deliver the message in his stead, that there was nothing more powerful, more effective than the stint he was raising.

“Not for a second do I think making a deal with you beasts, devils or what have you will ever come to the life I desire!”

“A refusal?” Asked, in whisker-raising disbelief. “You understand what you’re saying, yes?”

Grisla raised his head much in the way that Xinrei would. “More than ever. You honestly believe I’d murder my father for my own benefit? That must be the way of thinking for you beasts, overgrown creatures who’re better off as my seasonal coat than giving out deals. Despicable.”

Before he noticed, Seri was standing in front of him; arms barring the way. “Master White, I believe he’s—”

“Silence! He’s the spark to mouth off, but not the capital to back that.”

“What then, you’re going to kill me? I wasn’t told there wasn’t a choice in this unless this is your way of tying up a loose end?”

“Correct! How insightful of you,” White Tiger said sarcastically. “To keep our whereabouts secret, namely the most vulnerable passage to us via the Sage’s Medallion, it’s expected that all measures will be taken to guarantee its protection. Nothing personal, Grisla Orlith.”

White Tiger’s aura was unmasked—the boy dropped with his strings cut. Letting the pressure try to mold Grisla’s body like putty. As he squirmed on the floor his defiant stare was unbreakable, the last line of resistance.

Seri, who was unaffected came between them, “Wait, Master, this isn’t necess—”

“Who're you to intervene, Seri?” White Tiger said. He shot his head up, maw exposed to the air.

Between his array of swords for fangs, a mote of light appeared. It flickered once, twice, and then finally substantiated to life. White Tiger’s enthusiasm had the thing double in size in a blink, then triple that. Growing exponentially before their eyes. It didn’t take long for the ball—a dwarfed sun at that, to even create shadows in a land where there were none earlier. For once Seri’s face spoke of alarm, she was but a speck underneath its shadow.

Grisla’s surprise broke that stare of his, even though he was fully aware their power was well beyond anything in his comprehension; to see it personally, firsthand and be the one to die by it—well, he couldn’t help to smile, a little. The Tiger’s ball blinded him, reflexes saying he couldn’t gawk at it any longer.

“Seri,” Grisla said.

She turned.

“Move out of the way, you’ve done enough.”

“Are you sure about this, Grisla Orlith? There’s still time to renegotiate.”

“No, I am grateful for you saving me back then, if not for that, I wouldn’t have the chance to see something such as this.”

“Even with your life at its end, you’re more fascinated by the action than the end.”

“How could I not be? Had I the strength, I would’ve loved it if I could test myself against a beast like this.”

Grisla Orlith does not die a dog’s death after all! Imagine that, the White Tiger of the North sending me to the otherworld himself. Who could claim such a glorious end in my clan? Just who?!

“Do it then!”

White Tiger brought the sun to his level and fired. Instead of shying from the light, Grisla stared wide-eyed at it. If his corneas will be burned out, so be it, he was dead anyway, as he figured. But to Grisla’s impeding-death observation, there wasn’t any heat radiating off a thing so bright. A million questions asked, a million to be unanswered. He twisted up at the thought. In the end he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer despite his bravado. Even with his eyelids closed, the miniature star waved to him as it banished the darkness.

Then—nothing.

The brightness retreated in layers. Something was wrong, obviously. He heard nothing, not a peep, other than his own breathing and shuffling. An eyelid lifted, slower than a turtle’s step. From what he gathered out of the slit; the ball of doom was truly gone. Am I missing something here? Or is the afterworld just a second Limbo? Grisla got up with both eyes open—with again, as he feels like a broken record for it—more questions than answers.

Dead ahead, the White Tiger and Seri observed him.

Eyes smiling; grins laughing. Grisla Orlith slapped off nonexistent dirt as he said, “White Tiger, I think you forgot to kill me.”

The two of them exchanged a glance, then— “I can’t! This guy is too much!” White Tiger was in the throes of dying laughter and Seri joined him without hesitation. White Tiger had a weighty sort of a howl to his laugh; Seri had a spluttering sort that rose and fell as she glanced at him. “Remember what he said?” He mocked, “‘Not for a second do I think making a deal with you beasts, devils or what have you will ever come to the life I desire!’” Bringing it up brought the Tiger to a louder howl.

Seri elbowed him, “How did I do?”

White Tiger did an “okay” sign with his fingers, “Perfect! You bring honor to me even with the simplest things.”

“I bet his heart’s aflutter after your daring rescue for him. That was cute.” He said.

“Sure, whatever.” Seri said dismissively.

Grisla Orlith, with a tilted head and slacken face, stared.

“Look! Look! I think he pissed himself!”

“Wait, you’re joking, really?”

The two huddled together and continued their banter, picking nicknames and reenacting all that broke down between them; ignoring him as if he’d already left Limbo. Grisla spectated every second of it.

He sighed. For the first time in my life… death doesn’t sound too bad.