In the Mirror of Eons, an elk formed of wood and vines stood in a world of blue flowers. It held its head high, an ancient forest displaying its enduring might. The message could not be more clear unless the spirit pranced about with a sign in its antlers. You and your champion are not welcome here.

Azarus leaned back against his tree, eyeing the uppity spirit. Overhead, emerald leaves shook, a few breaking loose to fall on the god’s bedroll. He half-hoped the spirit would pull him through like Kuscal had. The spirit did not deserve to die, but if negotiations required him to stretch his legs, he would be glad of it. Alas, his companion seemed to have it well in hand.

Vibrations shook the air of the Hall of Gods. They emanated from Zagrus, traveling out from him to gather strength and bounce back. Azarus felt his domain resonate. He quietly bolstered the hound’s efforts, adding a drop of power. The vibrations sank back into him. His tail stood on end as they traveled through him like a tuning fork. Zag built them on each other, gathering them at the back of his throat.

The [Guardian Spirit] bugled again. Clusters of blue swelled. The outlines of large shapes pushed out of the flowers. Zag released his gathered power through gleaming gold teeth. The growl rolled off him like a wave.

The Mirror of Eons resonated with the growl, the vibration engulfing the [Guardian Spirit’s] image. Moka’s image was untouched. The [Guardian Spirit] stamped its hooves and shook its antlers, glaring at the air with its flower eyes. Zag’s growl seemed to come out of everywhere and nowhere, echoing through the silent forest. The flowers shook, causing the outlines to retreat.

Half-turning his body, Zag used his tail like a whip, smacking the mirror. Black botches stained the blue flowers in the image, splattered like paint. The black blots spread like a stain, consuming the flowers they landed on, then moving to the next. They left bone-white petals in their wake.

In the space of three breaths, the forest had gone from vibrant blue to a cold gray scale. In the Mirror of Eons, blue flowers still surrounded Moka. She huddled behind a boulder, taking shelter.

The [Guardian Spirit’s] eyes, the only specks of blue in a gray world, dropped to the nearest flower. It extended a hoof to nudge it. The bone-white flower collapsed into sparkling motes, fading without a trace.

The spirit bellowed, rage and sorrow echoing through the forest. With a shudder, it folded the trees acting as its legs, falling to its knees. A cloud of sparkling motes exploded around it as flowers disintegrated. It cried again, long and slow.

Azarus felt a pang of sympathy. The forest was giving voice to a feeling he knew well, losing a piece of its domain. His gut wrenched as the proud spirit touched its antlers to the ground, bowing to the unseen power holding it hostage.

Zag sat tall, his ears perked and his tail thumping against the clouds. His nose was in the air, tongue half hanging out the side of his mouth. He kept looking back at Azarus, side-eying the god. Azarus snorted. Putting aside his thoughts, he reached into his pocket. He hesitated between a gold coin and a piece of jerky. Choosing the jerky, he tossed it to the proud pup. Gold was for gambling.

“Good job, but you’re not done yet.”

Zag acknowledged nothing but the first two words, his tail going up a degree in intensity as he chewed on the jerky. Chewed was a generous term. He swallowed it in two bites. Turning back to the mirror, he lifted his chin as the forest spirit groveled. Azarus made a noise in the back of his throat. Gloating over a weak foe did not represent him.

Zag looked at his god, then away, hiding a sheepish look. He stood up, like he had been planning to all along, and whipped his tail at the mirror. Splatters of gold paint stained hundreds of petals. They burst into ethereal gold flames.

The spirit collapsed to all four knees. It bellowed as its forest erupted in a sea of fire. Centuries of growth burned to dust in moments. The trees stood like the frames of houses in a burning village as flames burned through the white flowers, leaving behind a gray forest of ash and vines.

As fast as the gold flames appeared, they passed by, all the flowers destroyed. The fading heartbeat of the forest drummed in the spirit’s chest. Tears beaded in its eyes like dew. The first rolled off its flower-eyes, falling onto a sprouting bud. Noticing the bud for the first time, it cocked its antlers.

The bud bloomed, opening up to reveal blue petals that caught the light like cut gemstones. From the center emerged the soft glow of gold, a sure sign the forest had gained something from the fire.

For each flower that burned, a bud sprouted, growing into a flower.

The spirit stumbled to its hooves. Its flower-eyes glowed, the edges turning crystalline. The elk-shaped spirit was silent for a long moment, staring at the unfamiliar flowers. Pressing a hoof into the ground, the [Guardian Spirit] stared intently as flowers bloomed in a circle around it. The flowers it created had petals like gemstones.

Zag shot Azarus a smug look. The god waved a dismissive hand at the hound, getting up to join him by the mirror. Laying a palm on Zag’s head, Azarus allowed the burning sensation in his chest to fade. Jealousy would find no purchase in him. His hound could touch the mortal world in a way he could not. It was something to be celebrated, to learn from.

He learned Zag was more in tune with the gray flame than he was. And he could use it to reach through the mirror. There was an understanding of that aspect of himself beyond sacrifice and exploitation. It implied the gold and emerald flames held hidden depths as well. He would delve into them all, claiming every ounce of himself. That, he swore.

In the mirror, the [Guardian Spirit] bowed its head, accepting the defeat and showing submission. Zag’s tail picked up velocity. Azarus could practically feel his desire to chase the elk around the forest. He vibrated his essence, filling his voice with intent and attuning it to the gray. The god spoke to everyone who would hear.

“Peace.”

Zag settled, his ears drooping. He gave his tail a half-hearted wag, shooting Azarus a guilty look. Moka, cowering in the forest, relaxed, a complicated expression crossing her face. She relaxed her grip on the grenade in her staff-sling. The [Guardian Spirit] touched its antlers to ground.

Staying prone for a heartbeat longer than necessary, the spirit rose to its feet. With ponderous movements, like it stood much taller than its mundane form, the spirit turned away from where it sensed Azarus. It bugled, the sound rippling through the endless blue flowers. As one, they disintegrated into millions of blue-crystal fireflies. For an instant, it was chaos. Millions of specks of light on buzzing wings filled every inch of the forest. Then, the fireflies fled, as if responding to an unheard signal. They dove between gaps in the vines and vanished.

With the flowers and fireflies gone, the forest was dark. The [Guardian Spirit] had left in the commotion.

With the first bird call, light returned. Soft and green, it diffused through the vines. In its presence, clusters of blue flowers bloomed sporadically across the forest. They grew anew, blue crystal petals with gold stamens, forever changed.

From her perch on the slope, Moka watched the light show in absolute stillness. Only when the forest returned to a relative normal did she dare move. She traveled in a straight line, away from the glade and up. The ceiling of vines grew further away as she progressed. The terrain was rough, often forcing her to use her hands to climb. She continued for close to an hour until she hit a wall.

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At the top of the slope, Moka found a circle of a dozen massive trees. They were bound by tight-wrapped vines. Directly overhead, the ceiling attached to the trunks of the trees a hundred feet up. Moka stood on a gnarled root, sticking up out of the vines, with one hand resting on the trunk of a tree. She stared straight up, using her moderate gift of Perception to squint at a beam of light shining between the vines and trunk.

With a sigh, the goblin rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck, still wearing her rucksack. She prepared for the ascension by taking a few minutes to shake her joints and muscles loose. Azarus thought she was overdoing it. She was not even breathing hard after hiking hard for an hour. With her gifts, climbing a little wall should be a breeze.

Azarus decided to treat himself and Zag to a piece of jerky each when she proved him right.

Taking a vine in hand, Moka reached her leg up to wedge a thick boot into a small gap. Her rucksack shifted on her back as she pulled herself up to stand on that foot. Shifting her weight with care, Moka stepped up with her other foot. Azarus groaned. He had not expected her to take a slow and methodical approach. With her luck, he figured she would find the fastest route up.

With Moka’s Luck on his mind, and time on his hands, Azarus retrieved a canvas from his satchel. It was the one he used for notes. The recent events reeked of the gift’s influence. [Faefire], a better version of the promised [Goblinfire] appearing with no effort. A group of enemies showing up in time to test it. Then, the guardian spirit of the forest coming like a common maid to clean up the mess. He was curious just how far her Excellent gift of Luck would carry her, and what similarities it shared with his emerald flame.

Azarus painted down a few ideas about how Moka’s luck worked on the canvas. In the margins, he scribbled a few thoughts about the hidden depths of luck. He saw it as a touching of paths, bringing things together and letting them fall where they may.

True to form, as Azarus scratched his stubble with the end of a paintbrush reviewing his experiences, luck made an appearance.

With a grunt, Moka pulled herself up onto the stump of a once proud branch. She slung a heel up and over, pushing down to leverage her body up. Although the Trial had just started, Moka looked taxed. Her eyes were unfocused. She laid on her back, propped up by her rucksack, one leg dangling over the edge of the makeshift ledge. Her chest rose and fell as she stared into the middle distance.

Azarus suspected her exhaustion resulted from enduring Zag and the [Guardian Spirit’s] posturing. His brow furrowed as he watched her catch her breath. She had fared better against the giantkin and the skinwalker. Perhaps a result of her Moderate Reason?

After a few seconds of mindless rest, the goblin’s nose twitched. Like it had a life of its own, it swung Moka’s head toward the tree trunk, chasing a scent. Her eyes were slow to catch up. When they did, they alighted on a cluster of familiar flowers with strange petals. She plucked one between her claws, bringing it to her face to examine.

Azarus recognized it as one of the transformed flowers, with petals like blue crystals. However, the petals were rounder and fuller than the others Azarus had seen.

The tip of Moka’s nose danced to an unheard beat as she brought the flower to her face. Drool swelled at the corner of her mouth, threatening to drip. She tentatively bit a petal with her teeth, pulling it off the flower and into her mouth.

Moka crunched down on the petal. After a slight resistance, it popped like a berry. Her ruby red eyes snapped into clear focus, widening in surprise. An almost visible wave of rejuvenating energy passed through her.

Azarus chuckled as she shoved the rest of the flower into her mouth in a single bite. It was a very goblin thing to do. His thoughts turned to the chances of Moka stumbling across a natural treasure in her aimless wanderings. They were slim.

Zag nudged Azarus’s hand, side-tracking his musings. The god turned to his hound, finding him sitting politely with an expectant look on his face. Azarus rolled his eyes but acquiesced, tossing him a piece of jerky. It was likely the [Guardian Spirit] had arranged the flowers as a peace offering. If Zag wanted to take credit for the natural treasure in the form of treats, Azarus was inclined to let him.

As Moka and Zag ate their rewards, Azarus treated himself to a piece of jerky as well. He liked jerky. It was poetic in that struggle was a prerequisite to enjoy it. As he chewed, savoring the taste, he considered [Chosen One] and how he should use it.

[Chosen One]: Moka may hear your voice as if over a great distance, or through a barrier.

The ability could be a linchpin for future runs. However, Azarus had concerns. He had already seen Moka react to his and Zag’s voice through the mirror. What worried him was her comprehension. The description outright stated he would be hard to hear. He had no desire to repeat himself or talk continuously in the hall's silence.

There was also the issue of what to say. He wished to cultivate a relationship with his champion beyond pointing her toward a problem to solve. Mere directions and advice seemed too mundane. He wanted something more, but he was struggling with how to connect to a mortal.

Refreshed, Moka stood up on the broken branch acting as a ledge. She gathered all the flowers but one, carefully wrapping them in loose cloth and placing them in her rucksack. Leaning over the edge, she peered down, then looked up. She was about halfway to the vine ceiling. Another fifty feet to go.

With a decisive motion, Moka undid her boots, tied the laces together, and strung them around her neck. She shed her caution, digging her claws into the vine wrapped trees and climbing with abandon.

Azarus watched her go, considering his words. Both past and future. His initial instructions to her revolved around setting a framework for behavior when she was unsure. Find the hopeless and change their fate. Be kind when possible.

He had chosen the word kind, specifically, not nice. Kindness was cutting off an unsalvageable limb, niceness was allowing it to fester while giving false hope. The words to explain this gathered at the tip of Azarus’s tongue. It was something worth saying, an idea he could communicate to help her represent him.

The words never left his mouth. This early in the Trial, her feelings of betrayal were fresh. He would not bet against her purging a human village in the name of misguided kindness.

Moka paused mid-climb to pop a petal into her mouth as she examined the beam of light she was aiming for. Azarus frowned at her, resisting the urge to flick her image in the mirror. She swallowed the petal, practically vibrating with energy. Far too much energy. The god could hear her humming a goblin war cry under her breath as she resumed.

Aided by natural stimulants, Moka reached the ceiling with ease. Up close, the ceiling was a tangle of branches and vines. Moka worked her way toward the beam of light piercing through the foliage. With an unnecessary leap, she pulled herself up onto a branch tangled with the ceiling. Kneeling on it, she touched the bark, feeling where a vine met the wood. It was seamless, one flowing into the other.

Azarus shared a grin with Zag. The forest of [Vinewood] lived up to its name. Trees with vines for leaves.

Moka left her discovery behind and climbed toward the light, weaving through vines and branches. She squinted, shielding her eyes with one hand as she got closer. Undeterred, she pushed through a gap in the vines and into the blinding light. Loose dirt fell, coating her as she scraped through. Pushing out of a hole in the ground and into the light, Moka blinked, trying to adjust to her new environment.

While she gathered herself, Azarus let out a low whistle. She was standing on a grassy hill next to a ring of stoic trees. The trees soared into clear blue skies, standing at least two hundred feet tall. Dots of blue flowers speckled their green leaves. At Moka’s feet, the hill dipped into a valley, revealing an ocean of leafy trees, not a single vine to be seen. Azarus spotted more hills with rings of trees like this one dotting the horizon. Below the grass and dirt, the vines stretched between the hills like immense nets.

When Moka’s eyes adjusted, the view stole her breath away. She sucked in a quick breath, her posture stiffening. The goblin stood at the border between a viridescent ocean of trees and an endless azure sky. Bird calls and the chittering of creatures rose from the forest like the lapping of waves. Moka sat down heavily, her gauntleted hands trembling.

Azarus cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts. This was the time to speak, to establish a connection. His mouth felt dry. Moka’s shoulders curved forward, her rucksack riding up on her back. She chewed the edge of her lip, her eyes scanning the valley.

The god opened his mouth to speak, to provide the direction and purpose he knew Moka was seeking. A sound reached his ears through the mirror. He hesitated, swallowing the words. With a swipe of his hand and a flex of his will, he adjusted the Mirror of Eon’s view.

The mirror showed him a scene playing out in the circle of trees behind Moka. Azarus saw her ears twitch, turning toward the noise. The god smiled. He knew what to say. It was a statement, a promise, and a reminder.

“I am with you.”

Moka whirled, searching for the source of the sound. Through the circle of trees, she saw a figure.