It took a moment for Maiz to realize his eyes were closed. Opening them, he winced at the bright sunlight glaring above him. He was standing on something hard--a gray stone platform, it looked like, set into the middle of... what is that? The ground was green, greener than the best dyed silks from Aldraya, greener than anything Maiz had seen before. Stepping out onto the emerald ground Maiz almost stumble as the something gave way, and he felt something poke into his legs. Hold on, is this grass? There was grass where Maiz lived, but it was usually long, thin, and light tan, and often sparse. This stuff was short, packed closely together and so thick that it took Maiz a moment to pick out the individual blades. What is this?

Then Maiz looked up, and he suddenly forgot about the grass. Directly in front of him was a veritable wall of giant brown-and-green obelisks, ending high in the sky in massive leafy canopies like Maiz had never seen before. He recognized the things as trees, but they made the trees he knew from home look like miniature reproductions rendered by a particularly uninspired artist--after all, there were few places for such plants like these to grow on the edge of the biggest desert in the world. Maiz was wondering if his mind had broken from the stress of what he had just gone through and began conjuring up hallucinations. 

Though he had never seen anything like this place, nor ever imagined something looking like it, Maiz thought he knew what it was. This has to be a forest. Forests were the settings of many adventure novels from the North, stories where heroes conquered dungeons and fought monsters. Those books were always his favorites to read from his father's stock: he had even kept some of them for himself as a child, to read over and over before he went to bed dreaming of his Naming Day.

Those were gone now.

As Maiz continued to examine his strange surroundings, he noticed three stone archways which appeared to mark the beginnings of paths into the forest. Indeed, though Maiz would scarcely have believed it even minutes ago, the trees here were so closely packed as to make venturing into them difficult without the aid of a path. But the archways were strange, and it took Maiz a moment to realize why: though there was an almost painfully bright sun overhead, some of which even filtered through the leaves above the trees, the archways appeared to lead into pure darkness. Like the doorway in the temple.

“Hi there, Seeker!”

Maiz jumped, almost falling over at the sudden sound. It was the same voice that had spoken before he ended up in this place! Whirling in his spot, Maiz nearly fell again as the strange grass slipped unexpectedly beneath his booted feet. Why am I wearing my boots? Maiz had taken those off before entering the temple, hadn't he? But then he spotted the source of the greeting, and the thought drove itself out of his mind.

It was a young woman, looking to be about sixteen, which was Maiz's own age. She was rather attractive, but very different from the people in Maiz’s home city of Caelos, with pale skin in stark contrast to Maiz’s light brown. She was wearing a pale green dress, clearly of high quality, and she had green hair and eyes that seemed to shine with joy. In fact…

“Are your eyes glowing?” Maiz kept his voice as nonchalant as possible. No sense in showing off just how stunned he was at his arrival in this strange place.

Even as he asked the question, his eyes tracked almost automatically from her luminous green eyes to the space above her head where her name would appear, if she chose to display it.  Above her head hung the words Riala-Journeyman Celestial Judge. What the hells is a Celestial Judge?

“Of course they are! Why aren’t yours? Is there something wrong?” The girl sounded puzzled, even concerned. What? Maiz thought again about his theory that he'd gone insane. It was starting to seem rather likely.

Then the bizzare girl laughed. “Just kidding! My old teacher told me to say that if one of you asked about the eyes. That was the first time I got to use it! Anyways, I’m sure you’re excited to get started on the trial, right Seeker? I suppose your priest or someone informed you of how it works?”

Maiz blinked. She was talking very fast, and she wasn't making any sense to him. “Hold up. I don’t know what’s going on. What is this place?" Even as he asked the question, a thought occured to him. "Is this still part of the Naming Ritual?”

She paused for a moment, seeming to finally run out of words. Then her eyes flashed--literally, they flashed--and she said, “Well, that’s an interesting question. You see, technically, you have a name and a title already. You’re… Maiz right? And you’re a Seeker. But of course, you aren’t going to keep that title, the whole point of this thing is for you to earn a new one! So to answer your question, no, this isn’t part of your Naming Ritual. I suppose it’s more of a secret level unlocked through your hard work!”

“I see.” Maiz didn’t really. A level? LIke the kind that carpenters use? Maiz didn't think that made much sense, but he also wasn't in the habit of showcasing his ignorance in an unfamiliar situation. He decided to dig for information a little more discreetly.“So, how does this, uh, secret level function, exactly?”

However, to his surprise, the strangely beautiful young woman simply gave him a knowing look, smiling faintly. “You know Seeker, I enjoy this conversation thing as much as the next Celestial Judge, but, uh..."

She stood at attention, looking like she was a student from some noble academy, then recited in a precise tone, ‘it is the responsibility of all Seekers to study under the direction of a mortal priest in preparation for the Trial. The Judge’s role is solely the observation of the Seeker’s performance and the final decision regarding their success or failure. ” Then her posture relaxed and she gave Maiz grin equal parts sympathy and pride. 

Maiz was starting to panic. “But I’ve never heard anything about this ‘Trial!’ Hells, no one told me anything about the rest of the Ritual either, no one remembers it!”

“Seeker, I must ask you to affirm the words of the contra--what? Oh! Merciful Father, how could I forget! I’m sorry, I was just so excited to finally get a chance to judge a trial that I completely forgot about the entire last millenium's worth of changes!” The girl slapped a hand against her face, shaking her head in apparent embarrasment.

Maiz frowned. Changes? The Naming ritual was a universal constant in the world of Saleria, the only way to recieve a name and a title, and it had been--as far as Maiz knew--from the birth of humanity thousands of years ago. “What do you mean?”

The girl sighed, hand still covering her face. “Okay, I guess I should just forget about the formal script, huh?” Her eyes flashed again. “After all, we’ve got to get you to see a god!”

“What?”

“Oh hush, or we’ll never start your trial! So I don’t want to bore you too much, but you remember how you mortals came to be?”

Maiz frowned. He was still caught up on what she'd said about meeting a god. A god? Is that even possible? But he tried to answer her quesstion from his recollections of congregations attende with his father in his youth.“Ye-yes. The Lord Haddad forged us from the fabric of our world, and the Lord Nomenadon named us and gave us our minds and our desire to learn more of the world.”

“Well I suppose that’s true. But you know it wasn’t just those two gods right? Otherwise you’d just be golems, running around, naming everything you could lay your eyes on. No, every single god had something to do with your creation, from the Lady Hudith giving you the instincts of life, to the Lord Massahn creating trials and tribulations to fill your days.”

That could be true as far as Maiz knew. There was always disagreement between the clergy of the different gods on points of doctrine, and Father Gavrel had always emphasized Nomenadon’s role in everything to the exclusion of the other gods. Speaking of gods, what was that she said about meeting one?

But she was continuing without time to let him pose the question.“Well, of course you humans started having children, and they had children themselves, and Nomenadon didn’t want to name all of you personally! So when it came to the question of how to name new mortals, the gods decided that they should create a trial, so that you could all discover your names and earn your titles: the further you got, the rarer and more powerful the title!”

This was ridiculous, so much so that Maiz momentarily forgot about her earlier statement. This girl was talking casually about secrets of Naming that had stumped priests since humanity’s birth! But a voice was whispering in the back of Maiz's head. She has knowledge. Knowledge is power. And you will need power.

“Now the trials were around for a few hundred years, and they were pretty darn good from what I hear. You had a lot of mortals who couldn’t get too far in the trials, and they got regular titles, like Smith, or Scholar. And then there were a few humans who went far enough to earn a powerful title, and of course the gods knew they were strong and smart enough to handle them, because they’d done so well in the first place! So those people ended up becoming heroes and legends to the rest of your kind.”

Maiz frowned. “So people didn’t finish the trial?”

The girl laughed, a sound like bells ringing at midday. “Well, not everyone of course! What, do you think that God-Chosen just grow on trees or something?”

“God-Chosen?” 

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

“Yes, yes, I’m getting to that. Now, once in a blue moon--and I mean that literally--some rare human would actually complete the trial. Those lucky few got to take a much more dangerous test: a one-on-one personal job interview with a god! I’m… not really sure how they decided which god got which Seeker. Maybe some kind of rotation? Anyways, then that god would choose the Seeker--or not. And, obviously, if the Seeker was chosen, their name would be forever burned into the pages of those silly ‘history books’ you humans have!”

“Hey!” Maiz was rather indignant. ”History books aren’t silly!”

“Heh. They kind of are when you can just ask someone who lived through it instead.”

The weight of the young woman’s words finally hit Maiz. “God-Chosen? You’re telling me that this is how God-Chosen were made?” God-Chosen were only a step below the gods themselves in power and fame. They were avatars of their gods, permitted to act directly on the mortal plane and use their divine abilities however they saw fit. Each had at least a hundred songs and stories written about them, and they weren’t always the heroes. But they had power. More than anyone else in the world.

“Exactly! So you can see that the trials had a rather high cap on rewards right?”

Maiz was too floored by this revelation to continue asking questions, though he felt he had too many to count. “Right.”

“Well now I suppose you’re wondering about why you’ve never heard about the trials, since they’re so great and well designed!”

“Not really,” Maiz said dully, ”Nobody remembers anything about the naming ritual, so this could happen to every person who has the ritual performed on them.” So, basically everyone.

“But you see, that’s not how it used to be! The gods were very proud of the trial system, especially Massahn, since he designed most of it. They didn’t let anyone forget about it. Except, you humans like to exploit of every little loophole and advantage you can. So when you learned how to do that ‘writing’ thing--bad idea from the start if you ask me--everyone wrote down what they knew about the trial! Once you had stable governments, some had whole initiatives centered around getting as many people as far in the trial as possible, just to map it out! In a few hundred years, people were making it to the end in droves, and crazy powerful titles were everywhere, wreaking havoc on your society.” Was she pouting?

“Are you pouting?”

“No!” She immediately scowled. “It’s just… I became a Celestial Judge in training only a a few decades or so before that happened. I had just finished my training when--”

“What, the gods decided to start erasing everyone’s memory about the trial?”

“Well, yes. But there was another big problem too. You see--”

“Right, that doesn’t explain the weird dark pathway with the super painful voices filling my head…” Maiz stopped, looking at the young woman. She was eyeing him, and her scowl was even more pronounced.

“What, anything else? Get it out now, come on.”

Maiz flushed, gesturing. “Sorry, go on.”

She tossed her hair back. “All right then. So when the gods erased everyone’s memories and records about the trial, they also realized that their trial system was becoming overburdened with too many people. No one--well, except maybe Lady Hudith--expected you humans to be so darn prolific. The Judges weren’t going to be able to keep up, and you can only do so much bending of time and space to keep the same individual test running simultaneously for thousands of different people. So they decided to add the naming ritual to the process, to weed out those who were just going to get a regular title in the trial anyways. They basically decided to keep the trial only as a test for new potential God-Chosen, so they could downsize on the energy and angelpower being used on it. They moved most of the Judges to different assignments, leaving only a few to handle the God-Chosen trials. And,” She gave a dejected look, “I drew the short straw.”

“Ok. So you’re saying that, by beating the naming ritual, I get to take a… test?”

“Isn’t it so exciting!” Her eyes were flashing again. “Maybe you’ll actually get to the end, and I’ll get to leave this place at last!”

“But,” Maiz was excited. This was exactly the chance he had been hoping for. Still, he needed to play this carefully. “I still don’t know anything about the trial! I mean, the history lesson was great and everything, but I’d like to know about how to actually do the trial too!” 

“Oh, right. Well, I don’t really know if I can help you with that. See, my job isn’t really to guide you through this test. It’s to decide whether or not you fail.

“Um, what happens if I fail?” Does it matter?

“You die.”

*************

The darkness surrounding Shadar quickly receded as he entered a massive… cave. Shadar preferred to call it an atrium. It had a vaulted ceiling which glowed a soft white. The hall was constructed of alabaster and black volcanic rock--initially retrieved from the Dungeon Shadar had just visited, in fact. A checkered pattern decorated the floor, and mosaics of black rock set against the white walls added a touch of aesthetic to the austere room. Below those mosaics were over a hundred portals like the one Shadar had just exited. Massive gray stone pillars both supported the ceiling and added to the sense of grandeur the room inspired. Every time he saw this place, Shadar’s chest swelled with pride. It had been his first project upon taking the Dragon’s Tooth as his command post.

“My lord, may I ask the results of your trip?” It was a skeleton, probably animated by one of Shadar’s liches or inhabited by a natural spirit.

“Four adventurers, all of which I estimate to be high-ranked Adepts or low-ranked Masters. They were using enchanted armor and possibly weapons of Epic quality. I killed three but one survived the five minutes. He claimed that they eliminated all of the mobs in the Dungeon, however I could not confirm this. Wait a few hours and send in some scouts. If the area is clear then begin a repopulation process. Oh, and of course you should have already activated the no-entry protocol when I left.”

It was always amusing to see a skeleton looking terrified. They could not widen their eyes or pale in fear. Instead Shadar heard a soft clicking as its finger-bones shook, confirming his suspicion that this was a spirit in human bones--skeletons raised by necromancers had no emotions to show. Debating whether or not to crush the creature to enforce discipline, Shadar decided that, finally, he could show some mercy to his people.

“See that it is done. And spend a month as a fetcher in the seed vaults.”

The skeleton stopped shaking quite so badly. “Of course my lord, it will be attended to immediately. And I shall tell my supervisor of my reassignment right after.” It was somewhat odd how attached the spirit was to its body on this plane, but Shadar knew how to make creatures like him feel pain, and he had made sure his servants knew it.

Keeping his face impassive, Shadar continued on through the atrium and into a smaller room, still decorated with the white and black stone, and allowed a set of green-skinned goblins to begin removing his armor. The stuff had been quite effective in his fight, a set of plate much lighter than that of his earlier opponent, but of excellent quality and material. Shadar did not know precisely how the adventurer he had taken it from had obtained such armor, but it had been a welcome find nonetheless. He just needed to have it refitted before he used it again.

In a few minutes Shadar was left in nothing but padded underclothes, red as always. He continued on, barely acknowledging the goblins as they carried the armor of for inspection and maintenance. Shadar took a different route through the winding sets of hallways, pristinely clean and well lit by magic, but still unavoidably claustrophobic to a human like him. After several long stretches of gently sloping rock floors, he began to feel an increase in the air’s humidity, and smiled once more. The baths.

A cloud of steam greeted Shadar as he opened the door to the baths, the cleanly cut stone floor feeling wonderfully warm as he removed his boots. In moments the rest of his clothes were off and he was sinking into the shallow corner of his hot spring, sighing quietly. It was not so often, these days, that he had to fight adventurers, but he gladly took the excuse to spend a few minutes soaking in the spring before returning to business.

.Freshly clothed in the tunic and breeches left for him, Shadar took the staircase up to his command center. Entering the room, which was nearly as spacious as the atrium but decorated in red and black, Shadar was greeted by a lizardman, a Saurian, in black robes.

“Welcome back my lord.” His voice was professional, officious, and--most importantly to Shadar--supremely intelligent. It was rare to find a monster as mentally acute and yet weak as Digaratoth. Unlike his powerfully built brethren, his form was almost as small as a normal human’s, his arms spindly and his claws small. He seemed more like a mousy scholar than the fearsome warriors the Saurians prized. Shadar had found Digaratoth when he had first bound the Askazi tribe to his service, just entering into adulthood and bullied by his peers. In taking the Saurian in and providing him a position in Shadar’s burgeoning bureaucracy, Shadar had made one of his greatest moves in securing his regime’s success.

“Hello Dig. Don’t worry, we’re alone.” When Shadar had entered the room he had scanned it with the eyes of a Mana Wyrm, finding no trace of life or surveillance magic.

“Oh! Well in that case, how was your trip?” Suddenly the lizard-man’s voice had lost its ridiculously formal tone, replacing it with warm familiarity. The sharp, considered edge to his speech, however, had not left.

“I couldn’t kill all of the adventurers for once, although that was mostly because they had specialized gear for the Dungeon. I left one alive, a defensive specialist of some sort.”

“Seems like you’re losing your edge.” Digaratoth’s tongue flitted out, the Saurian equivalent of a small smile.

“One day you’ll understand how it feels to grow old and infirm. When that happens, I expect you to tell me about it, because I’ll undoubtedly be curious.” Shadar’s laugh felt… good. These times alone with Digaratoth and his other friends had grown rare over the years. “I doubt you’re here just to taunt me, so just tell me what’s happened.”

“Our spies have uncovered a plot to overthrow you.”

“That’s nice. Now why did you come to see me?”

“Well, they managed to keep this one hidden for longer than usual. The Shadows reported to me just two hours ago--when you left, they had just begun to mobilize.”

“Ah. And which outpost did they decide to attack?” This was beginning to wear on Shadar.

“They are attacking here.”

“Excellent. When will they arrive, then?”

“The Shadow estimated twenty minutes or so.”

“Very well, clear the path to here and make sure to close off the side corridors. I’ve just finished three more rooms in the East Wing.”

“Of course, but… Shadar?”

Shadar looked up absentmindedly. He had been considering the his design projects in the East Wing again. “Yes?”

“Don’t you want to know who is attacking us?”

“Not really. Just prepare the Dungeon please, Dig.”

“All right then.” The Saurian sounded concerned to Shadar, but he still left quickly, long tail lashing back and forth as he walked.

Shadar sat back on his throne, a simple stone chair cut from the gray rock of the mountain, and closed his eyes. It would never end.