The ghost's form flickered, and suddenly he was seated behind an ornate desk that materialized from nowhere. The floating books arranged themselves into neat rows around him, like attentive students in a classroom.

"The Trial of Wisdom consists of three riddles," the specter announced, his voice taking on the dry tone of a university professor. “Answer correctly, and you may proceed. Answer wrongly..." He pointed to a pile of bones I hadn't noticed before, partially hidden behind a bookshelf. "Well, let's just say the previous applicants remain part of the library's permanent collection."

Riddles. I smiled internally. I grew up playing mystery and puzzle games. This should be easy.

"Your first riddle is one of my favorites," the spirit intoned. “Back in the early days of the Undercity, when the God of Light first began his reign, a warrior of light descended into our territory. He was arrogant, conceited, one of those zealots who believed darkness needed to be purged from every corner of the world - even underground."

The ghost began to pace around the room, occasionally stopping to reminisce. “ This warrior had slaughtered his way through three districts. When he finally reached our king's chamber, he challenged our lord to a duel. The battle was…” the ghost paused, savoring the memory, "magnificently one-sided. Our king utterly humiliated him. But just as the king's blade touched the zealot's throat, that cowardly knight invoked a challenge of wits.”

The floating books around us trembled, their pages rustling with indignation at the memory.

"Believing our king to be nothing more than a simpleton brute living in the darkness, he posed this riddle: 'I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have a mouth, but water kills me. What am I?'"

The ghost leaned forward. "The holy warrior stood there, radiating smug superiority, certain he had outsmarted our king. But do you know what the king did?" A bone-chilling laugh echoed through the Archive. "He answered before the last word left the zealot's lips.”

"So now it's your turn." The spirit straightened. "I am not alive, but I grow; I don't have lungs, but I need air; I don't have a mouth, but water kills me. What am I?"

Tirion scratched his ears. "A plant grows and needs air..."

"But water helps plants," Lysa corrected quietly. "This is something else."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. After spending years solving elaborate puzzle dungeons and decoding cryptic raid mechanics, this was like being asked to solve 2+2… trivial. The ghost might as well have asked us what color the sky was.

“Fire,” I answered. “A simple answer to a simple question.”

"Correct," the ghost nodded, although he looked offended by how easily I solved it.

The first book burst into flames that didn't burn, its pages transforming into a shower of glowing equations that rained down around us.

“Fire?” Tirion gave a confused look.

"Think about it systematically," I explained. "The riddle gives us three key conditions: 'not alive but grows', 'needs air without lungs', and 'water kills it without a mouth'. A fire isn't technically alive, but it grows bigger when it spreads. It needs air to burn - cut off the oxygen and it dies. And water puts it out instantly. Classic process of elimination puzzle - each condition narrows down the possible answers until only one fits."

"Also," Lysa added quietly, "there's a certain... poetry to a warrior of light using fire in his riddle. Fire creates both light and shadows, after all."

"Exactly," I nodded. “So, moving on…” My gaze fell onto the ghost.

"Patience, young one," the spirit's scholarly tone carried an edge of... something else. "That was merely testing the waters. Tell me, do you know what happened next in our king's duel?"

"Patience, young one," the spirit said. "That was merely testing the waters. Tell me, do you know what happened next in our king's duel?"

"Let me guess - the king turned the tables?"

"Indeed." The ghost's form rippled with satisfaction. "Having solved the warrior's simple riddle, our king seized his right of challenge. The holy warrior had strutted in, confident in both blade and wit. But when our king posed his riddle..." The spirit's laugh echoed through the Archive.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

"The pretender stood there for hours, his precious light dimming as his mind failed him. In the end, he could only admit defeat... and face the consequences of his arrogance."

The floating books began circling faster, their pages rustling with anticipation.

"And now, the same riddle that broke that warrior's pride: In darkness I am born, in light I take flight. I mirror all I see, yet I cannot see myself. I follow where you lead, yet I cannot be touched. What am I?"

The ghost's eyes gleamed. "Choose your answer carefully. The warrior of light learned too late that some puzzles cut deeper than steel."

"In darkness I am born, in light I take flight..." Tirion's ears twitched as he repeated the words. "Something that needs both? Perhaps a creature of twilight?"

"No, no," Estella shook her head, her mind trying to grasp the rhythm of the riddle. "It mirrors and follows... like a dance partner! But you can't touch it..." She pirouetted experimentally, watching her movements. "It's not quite that..."

"It needs both elements," Lysa murmured. "Born of darkness but requires light..."

I broke down the riddle's components in my head:

Born in darkness, takes flight in light... The first part suggests it needs both darkness and light to exist. Not many things require both.

Mirrors but can't see itself... That narrows it down. Mirrors reflect everything except their own surface. But that's not quite right - mirrors don't need darkness.

The answer was obvious.

Born in darkness - because you need light to create it.

Takes flight in light - because it only appears when light hits something.

Mirrors but can't see itself - perfectly matches everything it touches.

Follows but can't be touched - no matter how you grab at it, your hand passes through.

"A shadow," I said. The answer felt right, especially given this was the First King's riddle. A ruler of an underground city would intimately understand shadows.

The ghost's hollow laugh echoed through the Archive. The second book dissolved into inky blackness that swirled before dissipating into the air.

"Very good. You have answered what the pretender could not. The holy warrior stood there for hours, growing more desperate with each failed guess. Yet you solved it in mere minutes. Our king would be... impressed."

I shrugged. "It didn't seem that difficult. The clues were straightforward, anyone could have figured it out."

The temperature in the Archive dropped several degrees until our breathe fogged in the air. The floating equations froze mid-air, their glowing symbols dimming like dying stars.

"Such... insinuation!" The ghost's scholarly facade shattered. His form expanded, shadows pouring from his hollow eyes like dark waterfalls. Books slammed shut around us with thunderous force. "You would dare suggest our king's masterpiece - the riddle that broke the pride of a holy warrior - was mere child's play?"

“Perhaps...“ The ghost's voice echoed. "Perhaps you need a demonstration of true complexity. A riddle worthy of that remarkable intelligence you so casually flaunt."

The floating equations began to twist and merge, forming increasingly complex patterns. Mathematical symbols I recognized from advanced calculus danced with arcane runes I'd never seen before.

"Since you find our king's riddles so... elementary," the spirit's voice thundered, "Let’s see how you like this one."

The remaining books orbited faster, their pages whipping around us like a paper hurricane. The symbols clustered together, forming a blindingly bright golden equation in the air:

"The integral sec y dy from zero to one-sixth of pi is log to base e of the square root of three times the sixty-fourth power of what?"

A silence fell upon the room.

The glowing formula hung in the air between us, almost taunting in its elegance: ∫sec y dy from 0 to π/6 = ln(√3 × x^64)

“What sorcery is this?” Tirion commented. “These symbols... they make no sense.”

"It's not sorcery," Lysa replied. "I’ve seen these symbols before. It's an ancient form of magic from before the time of the twelve holy knights. They call it 'mathematics.' But it has since been forgotten ever since The Church outlawed it. They say The Church considered it heretical."

“I see you are familiar with mathematics, yes, I was a master in this art in a time gone past. With it, I was able to predict the motion of heavenly bodies and create tools of mass destruction. It is a pity that this art is now forgotten. “

“So young knight. Do you have a solution yet? Or is this a little too complex for your overinflated ego?”

I couldn't help but smile. For all its dramatic presentation, this was still just another puzzle. His biggest mistake was moving from riddles to pure mathematics. This was my domain now.

"There are sixty-four different answers to your little calculation," I said, watching the equations dance, "The one I like best is 'i'. The imaginary number, the square root of negative one, the cornerstone of complex mathematics." I paused for dramatic effect, channeling every cocky protagonist I'd ever played. "Though I prefer to think of it as 'I', as in I am the one who will solve your puzzle."

Estella stifled a giggle. Even Lysa's seemed to ripple with amusement. Only Tirion maintained his stoic expression, though his ears twitched tellingly.

The ghost's form trembled, books and equations freezing in mid-air. For a moment, only silence filled the Archive.

"Three riddles. Three perfect answers. Even our king needed time to contemplate, yet you..." The spirit's scholarly demeanor returned, though his voice carried a mix of irritation and reluctant respect. "Perhaps I was hasty in judging your generation's worth. You have proven yourself... adequately wise."

The remaining books settled gently back onto their shelves. The ghost gestured toward a previously hidden doorway that materialized from the darkness.

"The path ahead leads to the king's inner sanctum. But remember this, young knight - wisdom without humility often leads to a swift end. Our king learned this. That holy warrior learned this. I wonder if you will as well."