The cliff has no top.

What an absurd statement.

The Gods Below indeed.

And yet it its true.

I am looking up at the wall - for that is truly a better description than cliff - to find where the falls began and see the water exiting from a pipe. A smooth circle of brick and mortar protruding slightly from the stones. Then I look higher up and up, and up, and out, as the stone shifts color smoothly from dark grey, to light grey, to white, then blue. It just blends seamlessly with the "sky", arching overhead in an elaborate trick to make this prison feel like outside.

And what a prison it is. The clues all add up. The overpowered tiger, with its strange magic den. The mismatched ecosystem, with its unconvincing sun. The waterfall that comes from a pipe. The unwelcome feeling. This must be a Dungeon, one of the legendary challenge fields seeded all over Anora by the Gods, proving grounds full of magnificent treasures and maddening horrors. Where fortunes are made... or lives are lost. This is a prison built for monsters, and the tigers dying teleport has made me an inmate.

I spend some time looking for an alternative explanation, but no likely ideas present themselves. Then, the horror starts to really set in. Dungeons are places of profound danger, where even Warriors, Awakened, trained, equipped, and with powerful combat classes, can test their skills. Every monster in this place can likely kill me on accident. And there will be monsters here, so the legends say, likely more tigers, and stranger things under every rock and bush. All the tales agree that every living thing in the hidden depths actively wants all of humanity to die, attacking relentlessly any delver they encounter.

For all I have dreamed of being a hero, of delving into the dangers beneath for glory and treasure, I never thought I would be here so quickly, with no preparation, magic, or training. The longer I think about the situation I am in, the bleaker it seems.

All hope flees before the numbing realization that I will never reach home again.

I don't really remember the next few hours. I set up a camp inside the cave, then start gathering wood for a fire. It is a miracle I wasn't killed right then, eaten by some monster unseen.

I was just... lost. In my thoughts, in my fear, in my despair. My mind was chasing itself around in circles as I grappled with the horrifying reality of me, an unawakened teen, brought into a danger so far beyond even the adults that had grown up with. The only person I have even met with experience in a Dungeon is Elder Araldos, and the one armed man is vehemently opposed to anyone going into the "twisted hellhole" where he lost his arm.

I don't return to the present until my rumbling stomach reminds me that I am not dead quite yet, and if I was going to die it might as well be on a full stomach. I cook a quick meal out of my supplies, a nutritious porridge with jerky and dried fruits.

While I eat, just for a moment, I entertain ideas of rescue. Surely my dad will come for me, whatever the danger. He is the second strongest person in the village, almost to Fourth Tier!

But my eyes slide over to the tiger, and I know I cannot count on help coming soon. While the hunters will look for me, eventually, it will be days before they start. I am on a routine hunt after all, a full day out and back would not be unusual. On the the third day my parents would worry, and on the fourth Dad will likely follow my trail and find the broken tiger trap and deduce most of what had happened from the wreckage. But there the trail would end, for teleportation on Tigers back leaves no tracks. Perhaps some skill or other can give some clue to where I have gone, but there are none in the village that can follow. Not into a unknown dungeon, even if they an find its entrance.

There just isn't anyone with the ability to safely follow the tigers trail.

No one is coming, not here. Not now, and likely not ever. This death trap is for me alone.

That thought weighs on me until my meal is finished, then I push it aside. I need a plan, something to do, even if it is ultimately futile. I decide to investigate the third patch of strange light, reasoning that it I am going to be sleeping here tonight I should at least know all of its secrets.

This time as I approach this weird light it reveals not a crack or an exit, but a storage chest, set into an alcove. Made of gleaming metal, and illuminated from above by a sunbeam from thin air, it glows like it is made of gold. The closer I get, the bigger the chest is, growing with each step until I stands as tall as my waist. It is as wide as my outstretched arms, and about half as deep. A closer inspection reveals that it is not made of gold, but brass and planks of a fine grained white wood.

The intricate details catch my eye. Each edge is lined with brass beaten into delicate foliage, each leaf and branch made in astonishing detail. The handles on the front just two more branches protruding from the background. The forest scene continues up onto the wood, not carved in relief but woven from the woodgrain itself. A moments inspection reveals tigers hiding in the bushes, dozens of tigers, each an fingers length or so long. Each is life like in its appearance, each going about it day. Some are stalking prey from the shadows, others chasing it through the trees, still more are sleeping in sunbeams, or playing with kittens, or just laying in shadows. At the peak of the curve on the lid, a brass tiger lays, the twin of the one behind me, sprawled on its side. This one still has a tiny spear in its back.

I just admire it for a moment, taking in the quality of the craftsmanship that went in to making this absurd container. There does not appear to be any kind of lock, so I grab the handles and lift. Nothing moves. I inspect the seam where the lid meets the base, but there is no visible catch or locking mechanism. I pull on the handles again, harder this time. The lid shifts, just a little. I brace myself and heave, and the lid comes up, out of a groove in the base, and slides sideways a bit. There are no hinges, and with a few more tugs the heavy lid falls to the floor with a loud thud.

Inside, the container is mostly empty, just a small canvas wrapped package, light brown, secured with a black leather strap buckled around the middle. Across the strap are an unintelligible series of runes, stamped on in white ink. Their shapes are familiar to me, almost like letters, but just different enough that I cannot read them. As I reach for the package the symbols start to simmer and slide, shifting across the surface like living things. Startled, I jump back, drawing my knife, but the symbols return to their original positions a soon as I withdraw.

This time when I reach in I use the point of my knife first, prodding at the binding, then the wrapping. The unreadable text wiggles some more, but no other change happens. After a moment I lay a single cautious finger on the buckle. Instantly the letters stop moving, snapping into place with a soft sound like breaking glass. Now the bold letters proclaim "Awakening Kit - Ritual, Deep."

What a peculiar label.

The Awakening Ceremony is the dream of every child in my village. That magic day, shortly after each child's fifteenth birthday, where the child off honor gets whisked off to the village elders house for a simple ceremony, then emerge to a feast to celebrate their passage to adult hood. It is a time of celebration for each house hold, as the newly minted adult chooses their first two general skills. All the training and practice we undertake as children pays off on that promised day, as the skills we can choose from are directly related to our activities up to that point. The parties that day are legendary, with games of skill, tests of strength, and and a hands on education in the limits of the newly Awakened' increased alcohol tolerance. There are so few children in a small town like ours that the whole village turns out to celebrate.

I only faintly remember my elder brothers Awakening, almost eight years ago now. John was the youngest child in his age group, the last to awaken among his peers. I am the eldest of my friends, set to be the first to awaken in just a few short weeks. The village has been preparing to break the drought between us with a party that has been in the works for months.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

They will have to cancel that party now, or perhaps they will just use the supplies for my funeral.

For a moment I just stare at the package, stuck on the first word of its label, dreaming of what might have been. Then my brain belatedly processes the rest of the label.

"What is an Awakening Kit?" I ask softly.

There shouldn't be any material components to an Awakening, no instructions to follow. It is just a natural part of growing up, a process of the Natural Law.

The bundle does not answer.

The next two words in the tag each make sense individually, but not together.

The ritual tag is familiar to me. Ritual spellcasting is common enough. My mother uses it frequently when crafting, usually to replicate spells and skills she does not have. I even know two simple ones, to conjure fire and purify water. But what does that have to with Awakening? There is no spell or skill involved, nothing that requires a ritual. Just a nudge from an elder to rouse your sleeping soul, waking your dormant Soul System.

Maybe this kit can provide that nudge for me? If it can, will it work now, before I turn fifteen?

The Deep tag on the end made slightly more sense, even though I have nearly no information on it. For something to be "deep" just means it came from the Labyrinth that connects the Dungeons. Deep items are uniformly made from materials dense with mana, often far more powerful or sophisticated than can be found on the surface. Deep Classes and Skills become available to those who pursue levels primarily in the Deeps. Given that I am currently - at least technically - in the Deeps, finding things described as deep can hardly be a surprise.

The only person person I know with a deep class is Elder Araldos. The one armed elder had retired from delving The Depths in his prime, just after his elevation to Tier 4, after narrowly surviving the disaster of a delve that cost him his right arm. Despite the loss of his scout classes primary weapon, the bow, he is still one of the most dangerous individuals in town. He does not speak of his class, Deep Scout, much, but it is clear that he is significantly more powerful than the other adults in the village.

How exactly an Awakening could be deepened I do not know. Newly Awakened individuals do not possess a class that might be upgraded by the change. Maybe it grants new skill options?

I remove the bundle from the chest, and set it on a flat rock to unwrap it. Inside is a book, thin and plainly bound, and a wooden box, similarly unornamented. Neither the book nor the box have any text on the outside, so I open the book to see what's inside.

The thick, off white pages are, without preamble or explanation, a series of instructions for awakening a child before they turn fifteen. Just step by step instructions, complete with diagrams, on how a person can be granted access to their magic regardless of age. Skimming quickly through the book I can see that the bulk of the pages are actually an appendix of sorts, listing alternate material components, modifications to the base ritual, and other useful tips that didn't fit into the basic instructions at the front. At the back is a much more complicated version labeled "Deep Variant", again with an appendix of alternate instructions, but no explanation telling me about what a Deep Awakening is.

I set the book to the side to read more thoroughly later, and open the box.

Inside is a basic, miniature, version of the tools needed to set up any ritual. Some chalk, some string marked with increments, tiny spools of gold, silver, and copper wire, spun thinner than any I have ever seen. And a dozen other odds and ends neatly packed, each in their own tiny cubbies. With this box and that book, I could have my Awakening right now.

Or maybe tomorrow, as the light in the cave has already started to dim, and it looks like I have a lot to read before I am ready for the ritual.

It takes me three days to finish the book in sufficient detail that I feel comfortable attempting the ritual. Naturally, I am attempting the Deepened version. In between bouts of studying and long sessions of sketching circles and runes in the dirt, I break down the tiger for parts. The cool air in the cave, and the magic inherent to the Third Tier beast, has slowed the spoiling of the meat long enough for me to get most of it hung up to dry, or buried outside the cave. The skin, bones, teeth, and claws I process according to the steps in the book, as each are valid substitutes for components in an Awakening Ritual.

The section of the book that talks about Deep Awakening even says that a beast you hunted yourself is an ideal source for materials, increasing the power of the ritual significantly. Frustratingly, the booklet has no information about what exactly that means. I get the impression that this book is intended to be part of a larger course of study, covering the theory in more detail while this book focuses on the practical. But it is the only book I have, so I press on, step by step, until at dawn of my fourth day in this illusion shrouded cave I am ready to begin.

To start the ritual I stretch the cleaned hide of the tiger on the floor in the middle of the cavern. Stakes made of tiger bones secure it to the sandy floor, keeping it taught while I lay out the ritual pattern on its surface. First in chalk, then in the gold, silver, and copper wire provided by the kit. Slivers of bone sharpened to needlepoints pin everything in place while I ink the runes along the lines. The ink from the kit goes on black as night, but after it cures an iridescent sheen shines through, a slick of oil glimmering with thousands of tiny points of light, like diamonds as fine as sand have been embedded into the rainbow runes.

Fully laid out the ritual is a circle three stride across, with crisscrossing lines drawn at seemingly random places across it. At the intersections of the lines smaller circles are drawn, filled with tiny objects from the kit, supplemented by larger quantities of substitutes harvested from the tiger. A small crystal here, a tiny bar of gold there. A few tiny vials of mysterious powders left uncorked in one, and a pile of powdered tiger bone in another. The book does not cover the cost of the materials provided, but I suspect that the individual materials are very expensive, despite their tiny quantities, and the whole kit nearly priceless. I cannot identify most of the components, and most of the labels in the book describe location of the item in the box, not tell me what it is called. But the quality of each is plain to see. All together the whole assembly looks... bizarre, like a child's first craft studded with gems. Which I suppose it is.

After checking everything is correct one final time, I sit in the central circle, holding the final ritual components in my hands. Once the power source makes contact with the last remaining empty circle, the ritual will start and there is no going back. But I have one last choice to make. In my left hand sits the power source that came with the kit, a green tinted pearl the size of an acorn. It is a clearly a beast core, the mana storage organ common in many creatures. The book calls it the core of a viridian crow, a bird I have never heard of before. In my other hand is the black fist sized pearl from the base of the tiger's skull.

My instructions do not give a lot of time to selecting a power source, only assuring me that any beast core, or artificial equivalent, would work fine. But other lines in the book counsel that materials harvested and processed by my own hand would yield a stronger ritual. But what exactly is a "stronger ritual" in this context? Awakening should be a single unambiguous outcome, a yes or no answer. Do you have access to your skills, and therefore an adult under the Law, or do you not? The book is plagued with frustrating unanswered questions that might have an impact on me, or might just be a reflection on my ignorance.

"Well, the cautious approach never suited me anyway." And I drop the tigers core into its space.

At first, nothing happens. Just as I start to wonder if I have done the setup incorrectly, a dark blue smoke starts to roll off of the beast core. It swirls close to the core for a moment, like it is reluctant to leave, then the pull from the runes wins out. The smoke streams out and starts to flow along the ink and wires, sinking in as it goes. More smoke rolls of the core behind it, slowly saturating the entire circle. Each rune and ingredient the smoke passes begins to glow, dimly at first then brighter and brighter as the circle gets more and more covered by smoke. The last circle to be illuminated is the one I am sitting in.

When the smoke reaches me it starts pouring into the circle, rising into the air, seeking to escape the lines of wire and ink that contain it. Before to much can accumulate I reach out with my will, drawing the magic towards me, commanding it to sink into my legs and stay there. As more smoke accumulates it tries to race up my body, flowing along like a flooding river, but I command it to stay. Slowly I saturate my body, allowing the mana to creep up one fingers width at a time until it reaches my head. With my whole body saturated it starts to spiral into a point at he the base of my skull, just at the top of my spine.

This is the point where all the mana a human generates enters the body, and the gateway to the soul. As it spirals in to my gate I will the mana into the runes recorded in the book. Slowly, the mana takes the proper shapes, but not fast enough. The first rune reaches the center of its spiral and disappears, sucking the rest of the unfinished rune sequence out of existence. Not a big deal, according to the book. Just start over at the top of the spiral, and repeat until you are fast enough to finish before it reaches the bottom. The beast core provided is supposed to allow for dozens of attempts, and I cannot imagine that the tigers core will allow any fewer.

The book failed to mention entirely the ripping agony that starts as soon the first try fails, and the second falls apart barely formed as I try to push through the pain. I grit my teeth and bear down on my third attempt, as the torment is growing with every passing moment. I think I get it right just as the first rune reaches the middle, but as it starts to disappear into my soul there is an enormous spike of pain, and then, once more, I black out.