Daniel wondered how his life would have unfolded had he not been the Heirling of the Red Sword. If he had not been a Lordling at all.

Many fae were unable to gather power and were then relegated to a calmer kind of life. Towns were full of children of Lords and Lordlings who were unable to gather power. They often found themselves isolated from the chaos of the Game. They sometimes joined their families as administrators and bureaucrats, but sometimes they were just left in the home court, to live and marry as they wished.

What would his life have been like, had he been born unable to gather power? Would he have joined some sort of local athletic team and played a sport? Would he have found his way into the Court of Knowledge with his desire for understanding, or would he have ever explored the deeper understanding of mathematics and runes if not for the need to prove himself to the faction of the Red Sword? Would he still love Griffins, or would he never have the opportunity to soar through the sky?

But Young Lordling Elswith had been able to gather power. Which set him upon this path.

Which ultimately led to him racing through this large, echoing Minick of the Eastern Red Room. The Dungeon’s version of this room was accurate. The way the walls came closer, narrowing until the two walls nearly touched allowing for a doorway that led to a hallway passage. But this was not the Eastern Red Room. The rich furnishings were not present, the chairs like thrones along one wall were replaced with strange chairs that swiveled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw they all turned toward him slowly in his wake, as though he had brought some great gust of wind that caught the chairs. Of course, the air remained motionless.

Buzz. Bizz. Buzz. Went the overhead lighting rods against the chalky white ceiling.

The static buzz increased, as the long-limbed creatures pursued.

Then Daniel left the room he hoped was the Eastern Red Room, and he reached the point of no return; the narrow pinch point, where the hallway and the room joined. If this mirrored the Stable, then this passageway would lead straight toward the Owl’s Scope room with the exit in the ceiling. The other identical rooms had led to rooms that were impassible. If Daniel had chosen the wrong room, the swelling amount of attackers would force him onward into dangerous places further out and unknown to him.

Besides, it wasn’t just an exit. Daniel needed a room with height, where this Dungeon place seemed to struggle to hold the shape and the connection to the Stable was strongest.

The things that dwelled in the shadow lashed at him.

Whatever that thing was, Daniel felt it would be better for his sanity to not see too many details. He used his second to last fire flower, his own magical control sputtering and almost not catching as Daniel himself was so nearly out of magic. But the control took, and a sustained explosion blossomed behind him.

Heat flashed golden and bright, and the dimness retreated. If he had more magic, he may have been bolder, but he needed to conserve what he had for the next challenge. Actually leaving the Dungeon and returning to the Stable.

The other things continued to follow, the bubbling dread beasts and the long-limbed metal creatures.

If Daniel had never been the Heirling of the Red Sword, if he was never driven by his own inadequacies, by his own failings, by his own drive to be better than he was and reach beyond his limits, he may have been a completely different person. Perhaps he would have been happier. But because of his suffering, he had gained something that could not be taken away from him.

Knowledge and the working of his mind.

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Knowledge as the wood, and the ability to reason and think the spark that lit the fire.

Every place had rules. There was a way out of everything. In this place, the Law of Fae was muted, but not silenced. If it was truly gone, then the hexed handkerchief and the spider sock would have both unraveled.

He could lose all his power, but as long as he had his mind he could fight his way free. He could win the game. He could save Witness.

Golden light from the dying fire flower’s flames lit the room ahead, dispelling shadows and dimness. Daniel felt his feet hit solid ground as he left the passageway behind and strode into the new space before him.

And just like that, he left the long hallway and found himself in the Dungeon’s copy of the Owl’s Scope room.

All the guesswork, shaky logic, desperate hopes, and yet Daniel had been right. He had started this bizarre journey in the Dungeon not so long ago, but it still felt like ages had passed. He had left the guided path, rather trusting in himself than the unknown kindness of the blue construct. He had trusted his knowledge that if there was a way in, there was a way out. Trust in others was too difficult, an impossible theme.

This version of the Owl’s Scope started well enough. The floor was still the damp beige carpet, the walls the dull yellow. The copied aspects of the rooms started somewhat accurately as well. The first few platforms were constructed of the damp carpeted floor. But as the room rose and the platforms continued, the Dungeon became confused. Around the fourth ledge, the walls were strained, with the chalky white ceiling tiles appearing like spots of acne, and the ledges afterward alternative between the various materials that made up the Dungeon. Around the eighth ledge, the attempt at order disappeared completely as the wall became a sick and twisted wet mix of carpet, ceiling, and sick yellow wallpaper. The remaining ledges became jumbles as well, though Daniel focused beyond that to the true prize.

Because high overhead, Daniel saw that the wall just beyond the twelfth ledge was different completely. The terrible mess of the multi-surface wall gave way to the old and tired stone wall of the original Owl’s Scope room, and the exit that the Owls of old had once left.

Daniel wasted no time and began ascending as the hordes chasing him arrived. He considered using the last fire flower but held off. He may need it later, and holding them off would not help him decidedly.

He bounded up from the floor to the first ledge.

Daniel was starving, but his body was young and strong, well prepared by years of training and experience facing the dread hordes. He leaped across the first one with feet arching in front, landing on the next ascending platform with both feet to spare impact on his ankles. Another running step and he soared the gap between the second and third, this time feeling how slick the carpet was beneath him. Don’t rush and fall, he reminded himself.

This had been a long day, and it was not even close to over. After he escaped the Dungeon, he still had to finish in the Stable.

It was a long day, but it had offered valuable lessons. Even if they were lessons he had known before in an academic sense, now he knew it from experience.

Daniel had learned that he could not trust the Sky Court, the O’Tells, nor even the Grand Stable. He would trust no one who dwelled in these places. He could not trust his former Circle members, not when both Kane and Regis had betrayed him. Not those who once owed him a great debt, not after Jasper’s actions proved how they jumped at the bit to bite the hand that once fed them. And not even Kenton, someone who had known Elswith since he was a little Lordling, and yet perhaps arranged for Daniel to fall into this trap of a dungeon.

Daniel had to trust no one.

He ran, and leaped forward, both hands slapping the next platform as his feet hit to stabilize himself. Fourth platform. This was almost too easy.

The crushing fear of a world where he had no one to trust pressed against his chest.

Bear it well, he told himself. Bear it, even though the weight of it feels as though it will crush his back. He was a pawn in a Game too vast for allies to risk for him, and too interesting for outsiders to leave alone. He needed to know that anyone was willing to abandon him the moment it grew difficult.

But knowledge would not betray him.

The next platform was strange, and he only realized it after he had committed to the jump, as his body soared the gap and he spied where he was to land.

While the bottom of the fifth platform had been carpeted the top part was the chalky ceiling tiles and metal grid.

Daniel had but micro-seconds to adjust, tucking his chin against his chest and leaning forward, instead of landing on his feet, he rolled over his shoulder to disrupt his weight. He rolled flat to his back, feeling the thin tiles shift under his weight already.

The chalky ceiling tiles cracked beneath him but did not completely fall apart. He lay on his back and saw with horror that each of the remaining ledges were a mess of ceiling, wall, and even the eleventh ledge was made entirely of the glass lighting rods.