According to Chowicz, if Euryphel introduced himself as an ascendant, Holiday would assume he was helping Ancient Black as a favor. Euryphel didn’t like lying so blatantly–the most believable untruths were half-truths and lies by omission–but he didn’t have another choice. Pretending to be a construct was off the table and revealing that he wasn’t an ascendant resulted in even more questions–and hostility.

Achemiss was infamous for capturing mortal peak practitioners and exploiting them in Eternity. The strategy was the source of his seemingly endless artifacts. Most ascendants had no way to influence the outside worlds without using a return beacon. The ability to steal practitioners from worlds that weren’t Achemiss’s own–and send constructs to do his bidding–was remarkable.

The more Euryphel learned, however, the less impressed he became. All that power most likely stemmed from a single artifact that Achemiss attained soon after his ascension. Surely Achemiss was powerful on his own, but no more than other ascendants.

Ultimately, Achemiss was just lucky.

Holiday claimed to be neutral with respect to the black and white factions, but that impartiality didn’t appear to extend to Achemiss. Euryphel had seen as much in a scenario he recreated based on Chowicz’s intelligence.

“I am Sel,” Euryphel said.

“Just Sel?” Holiday asked.

“I have other titles, but they are meaningless here,” the Crowned Executor replied.

Ebon Pearl–now resting on Holiday’s shoulders–hissed softly. “You are not an ascendant?” she asked.

“No.”

Holiday turned his gaze to Ian, his teeth bared in a cold smile. They looked bloody. “You’re presumptuous, even for an ancient. Is he from your own world, or another?”

Ian’s expression remained cool, impassive. “My own, though he is only here in mind. His body remains in the mortal realm. Does his presence trouble you?” Ian waved his arm, stirring up the wraiths. “I can dismiss him.”

“No,” Holiday drawled, “not when you’ve had him dressed and made-up so nicely. He matches your aesthetic well.”

Ian narrowed his eyes. “Is there a problem?”

He stared straight at Euryphel. “I wondered why you would come for Achemiss. I hope you aren’t planning to follow in his footsteps.”

Then the ascendant killed himself, leaving Euryphel and Ian alone. The scenario was as good as over.

Ian groaned. “Everything Holiday told us was intentional. He wants me to know that he doesn’t like Achemiss. He also probably guessed that I’m not exploiting you, and is not-so-subtly telling us to revise your backstory to something less objectionable. I wish he’d just tell me outright. Fucking mind games.”

You think Regret practitioners are tricky? Euryphel thought to himself. Try dealing with Beginning practitioners all day, within Regret scenarios. Holiday’s Beginning was so good that Chowicz was half convinced he must also be hiding a Regret affinity, even if Euryphel knew that was impossible.

The scenario had ended with Euryphel resolved to use the title of ascendant so Holiday wouldn’t associate Ian with Achemiss’s bad behavior. Still, the former prince wondered if part of Holiday’s bad opinion of Achemiss was related to Ari’s death. Ian said that Holiday had acted flippantly about her demise, but Euryphel didn’t know many people who could face the unexpected, premeditated, and violent murder of a colleague with complete apathy.

In a world where power is second to reputation, ascendants shelter beneath masks, hiding their true thoughts. It was so ingrained into ascendants like Holiday that even in Regret scenarios, they spoke in riddles.

But above all, it was ironic. The most powerful people across all worlds in existence, having escaped all responsibilities and politics—and being given the open sandbox of planes called Eternity—were still not free. They did it to each other. The competition they attended now was a prime example of ascendants pulling each other down, warring over scraps of power that barely mattered. Fighting for reputation.

True freedom, Euryphel knew, meant being unobserved. I can see why some, after ascending, run through the planes, seeking out places devoid of other humans. Euryphel just wasn’t sure if that kind of freedom was worth the isolation.

Holiday had relinquished his freedom when he tied himself to the Hall of Ascension. Euryphel figured that even if Holiday cared about Ari’s demise, he couldn’t show it, especially when Ari’s death was at the hands of a half-step ascendant. If Ari had been stronger, she would have survived. Such a simple, believable, unforgivable excuse for apathy.

“Ascendant Sel,” Holiday said, “you are a dual affinity practitioner, though I know only that you have Regret. I am curious as to the other.”

Euryphel smiled thinly. “What gave me away? I haven’t used my other affinity around you.”

“Your hands. Your fingers move stiffly, as though you don’t typically use them.”

Euryphel noticed that Ian flinched at the observation.

Holiday continued. “I’d guess that you rely on another affinity rather than your human limbs. An affinity that would provide more flexibility.” He rubbed Ebon Pearl’s snout. “Water or wind elementalism, though possibly earth elementalism, Sun, Life, or Death.”

Euryphel cocked his head. “That is a rather broad list. Which do you think most likely?”

Holiday cracked a smile. “To me, you look like a wind elementalist.”

Euryphel smiled back but didn’t acknowledge whether the ascendant’s guess was correct. Knowing Beginning practitioners, he wouldn’t be surprised if Holiday already had his answer, reading it from a micro-expression or other small tell.

“Why did you bring Ancient Black here?” Euryphel asked.

“My intent is to understand why he has come,” Holiday explained. “I understand the intentions of the others. We have the representatives of factions and organizations. They have multiple motivations, but none are surprising. We have the unaffiliated ascendants looking to participate in the competition. Those individuals may have complicated motives, but are largely beneath notice.” He turned to Ian. “You, on the other hand, are a massive enigma. I can’t tell why you’re here, nor who you even are. You don’t exist, shouldn’t exist, and yet you stand before me, as real as anything.”

Ian observed the two of them with a cold gaze, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m not sure whether I should be insulted.”

“I do not intend offense,” Holiday continued. He faced Euryphel again. “What is he?”

Euryphel blinked. What? This was different than anything he’d seen in scenarios.

“Maria and I are confused by what he means,” Ian said. “I’d unsummon you to run more scenarios, but I hesitate to do that now that Holiday is talking to you directly.”

“He is the combination of two ascendants,” Holiday continued, “merged into one body by an artifact. One is a lich, but that seems irrelevant. This is not the work of necromancy. I’ve never seen anything like this, which alone is highly suggestive of Black having an undivulged affiliation with an organization.”

“The only time I ever returned Maria to her lich form was when I made the recording for Achemiss,” Ian transmitted. “He must have found a way to see it.”

“Are you insinuating that I am not an ancient?” Ian asked.

Holiday gave him a lopsided grin. “You have blue ascendant energy.”

Ian scoffed. “You never saw the color of my energy,” he said. “I take my energy control seriously.”

“No, but I felt it, when I grabbed your arm. There is a difference in density between red and blue energy, between the way it flows through our bodies. Yours almost feels like red energy, but it’s less substantial. I would expect an ancient’s energy to be thick, at least as thick as my own energy.”

Ian narrowed his eyes. “I am an ancient.”

“Can you prove it?”

“It is not my concern whether you believe me.”

“We’re alone here; there is nothing to fear, aside from me. You can reveal the lich you’ve joined with.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” Ian insisted, maintaining his unperturbed demeanor. What he thought to Euryphel revealed his inner concern. “He knows what Maria looks like. Thankfully her face was obscured in the recording I sent to Achemiss, but if I reveal her now, he will recognize her.”

Euryphel wished he could comfort Ian and give him advice, but all he could do was listen.

Holiday sighed. “I wonder what will happen if Ascendant Red picks you to assist him in the trials ahead.”

Alarm flashed in Ian’s eyes.

“He could pick anyone,” Euryphel interjected, unsure what Holiday was playing at. Red didn’t need to pick Ian. He shouldn’t pick Ian. As soon as Euryphel heard the original announcement about the next phase of the competition, his mind had started thinking through possible ascendants for Red to choose. Since Ian was buddying up to the black faction, asking one of their ascendants might show good faith.

“He could, that’s true,” Holiday acknowledged, “but I want Ancient Black to participate for selfish reasons.” He stared at Ian. “I’d consider it a favor. But first I need to know if you are an actual ancient.”

“Ancient or not, I won’t participate,” Ian stated.

Holiday nodded. “You’re hiding your identity with the help of an artifact–the same one that enables you to merge with another ascendant. I’ll allow you to use it during the competition.”

Euryphel wondered if Ian would refute Holiday’s insinuation. Ultimately, after a moment of consideration, Ian pushed onward. “Do I need to name my favor now?”

“No.”

“How large of a favor is permitted?”

“If the favor is within my capabilities, and does not require a significant expenditure of time, I will do my best to fulfill it.”

“Y’jeni, what is he planning that he’d offer me an unbounded favor like this?” Ian thought. Euryphel agreed that it sounded too good to be true.

“I don’t know why you think a favor is worth my participation in your competition. Before I agree, I need to know why.”

“He wants more ascendants to think with their heads than their hearts,” Ebon Pearl interjected. “The Hall of Ascension demands physical excellence and high levels of power, but it really needs individuals who are well-rounded and even-tempered. Ascendants who can learn. What do you see in the competitors brought to bear?”

“They’re all strong,” Ian said. “Much more than that, I could not tell you.”

“It’s easy to show strength,” Holiday said. “I can devise challenges that favor different types of practitioners, but those brought to compete here all exceed the baseline requirements of power, perhaps with the exception of your protégé. There is no actual point to playing out the competition other than to let political games reach completion.

“This time, I want to do something different. A trial that assesses candidates on skills that matter.”

“More specifically, their judgment,” Ebon Pearl added.

“So… you’re testing value systems and common sense?” Euryphel asked. “Judgment is relative.”

“No, it isn’t,” Holiday retorted. “There is a wrong way to do this job, and I intend to prune those who can’t learn the right way.” He takes a deep breath. “People will resist. But if the supposed most powerful person buys into my plan, then the others will follow.”

“Why do you care to this extent?” Ian asked bluntly.

“Ascendants like their rituals. They rely on them more than they would ever admit. For the organizations present, I am usurping an important ritual. They will complain and refuse to accept the results from today unless the competition is re-run.”

“You sound certain of the fact,” Euryphel said.

“I am certain,” Holiday said bitterly. “Is this sufficient explanation?”

“He’s not lying that I can tell,” Ian transmitted, “but is that really the truth?” He gave Holiday an appraising look. “It is sufficient.”

Holiday cleared his throat. “But first, the proof that you’re an ancient.”

“Fine.”