"Excuse me, Andy! Sir!"

The voice was Tobo's, and it cut right through Andy's dreamless sleep.

"Sir, it is time to get moving. We must get the three of you to the temple."

Andy sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. He rose to his feet before opening them.

Tobo, Arlene, and Kermit stood in the hallway, all ready to go.

Tobo, who was typically unnaturally cheerful, wore a dour expression.

"We really must be going!"

"Ok, ok," Andy said, slipping on his shoes.

"Morning," said Arlene. "Sleep well?"

"I was sleeping well," said Andy.

Kermit waved without saying a word. The four of them slipped downstairs and out the front door.

It was early, still completely dark. It felt appropriate to be quiet, even though no one was around them.

The group made their way swiftly and silently down the cobblestone streets of Cresthaven. Almost no one was awake, save a few shop owners who were getting an early start or setting up their stands for morning customers.

They were taking a different direction than the one they had the previous day. Rather than shops and restaurants, the buildings were becoming more official, taller, more regal.

"Now, I need to say, I really am not at liberty to discuss the initiation ritual with you," Tobo said, breathing rapidly and keeping a strong pace. "I wish I could do more to prepare you, but I really can't."

"That's ok," Andy said. "If you can't talk about it, don't talk about it. We'll be ok."

Tobo furrowed his brow.

"Yes, you'll be alright. But… don't expect this to be easy."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Arlene said.

"It… this is a true test of character and resolve. If it were up to me, I would not require it. But it is not up to me," Tobo said.

"Ok…" Andy said. "Are you trying to warn us about something?"

"I can't warn you about anything!" Tobo said loudly, "And I intend to do no such thing. I value my station and my business in Cresthaven."

Andy was a bit taken aback by the sudden outburst from Tobo.

"I'm sorry," Tobo said, hanging his head. "I just… I want you to know I am on your side, no matter what happens in there."

The group continued walking, but no one dared break the silence that had fallen after the halfling's words.

"We're in the official district now," said Tobo. "The Temple of Initiation is up just around the corner."

As they cleared the corner, a massive, stone structure rose before them. Ornate spires, huge arches, and detailed stonework adorned it.

"This," said Tobo, "is the Temple of Initiation. I can go no further," he said.

"Thank you, Tobo," said Andy. "We'll see you soon."

Tobo hesitated, and then bowed simply.

"Yes, yes you will," he said. "I will make sure to have plenty of food and drink prepared for your return."

He stood for a moment.

"Good luck," Tobo said. He turned and walked off.

"What was that all about?" Andy said. "He's usually a ball of sunshine, but all of a sudden he's acting like we're marching to our death or something."

"Well, here we are," said Arlene. "No turning back."

The group walked over to the huge, wooden double doors, covered in carvings.

The left door depicted a disturbing purgatorial scene like something ripped straight from the middle ages. Fire, devils, figures in distress, monstrosities…

On the right door, there was a serene scene of paradise. Angelic beings, fruitful trees, figures with calm looks of beatitude.

"I don't like it," Kermit said.

The left door creaked open as a tall, thin, hairless man in a blue-gray, heavily embroidered cloak appeared.

"You are here for your initiation, yes?" said the man in a serpentine whisper.

Andy was doing his best to conceal his sudden discomfort. He didn't know what he was expecting, but this guy gave him the creeps.

"Yes," said Andy, matter-of-factly.

The left door swung open to reveal a huge, dark interior.

"Right this way, please," the man said.

The group filed in one-by-one and stood in a large chamber decorated with iconography of heroes fighting in battle, of sorcerers and wizards casting spells, of builders erecting magnificent architecture. It was a monument to the aspirations of each class.

The door shut with a thud, and the room became significantly darker.

The only light in the temple came through the stained glass icons. Some smoke hung in the air, drifting off of an altar that supported a large container of sand in which several sticks of incense were placed.

The room was round, with a dimly lit dome overhead. Every tap, click, and footstep echoed in the massive hall. Massive pillars of stone supported the structure.

There were whispers echoing as figures in white robes passed behind pillars into some unseen room out of sight.

"Who are they?" Arlene asked.

Her words were amplified by the acoustics of the room.

"Pay them no heed," the hairless man said. "They tend the temple."

He gestured to a marble circle on the floor, placed exactly under the center of the dome.

"Please, stand there, the three of you," he said.

The group moved forward together into the center of the Temple.

Andy looked up. He could barely make it out in the dim light, but it seemed that the dome was inscribed with pictures of gods, angels, and heroes reclining on the clouds.

The man slowly circled them, eyeing them up and down. His lack of eyebrows made it difficult to discern his expression.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

"You," he said, pointing toward Arlene. "Step forward."

Arlene stepped forward, remaining calm.

"You are not who you think you are," he said to her. "I am going to show you who you are."

The man reached out to touch her face but she drew back.

What is this guy, some kind of freak? Andy thought. What is exactly is going on?

Tobo's demeanor that morning hadn't given Andy any comfort, and now he was becoming increasingly nervous with this creep's behavior.

"Not willing to examine yourself, eh?" the man said. "Are you sure that's what you want to do? Would you like to… withdraw?" A smile curled his thin lips, revealing razor-sharp teeth.

Arlene gasped involuntarily.

The man chuckled in quiet glee.

"Who are you?" Arlene said.

"Who I am is not important," the man said. "It is who you are that matters."

"I'm Arlene," she said. "What else is there to know?"

The man reached out once again.

"Don't recoil," he said.

Arlene remained steady as a single, long-nailed finger grazed her face.

Suddenly she began shaking, then groaning. She was having some sort of physical reaction to his touch. She doubled over and fell to the ground.

She was having a seizure.

A jolt of panic shot through Andy as he ran over to Arlene's side and tried to hold her still.

"Arlene!" Andy said, panicking. "What's wrong with her?!"

"What did you do to her!" Kermit cried as he lunged toward the robed man.

The man simply touched Kermit on the forehead, and Kermit fell to the ground, seizing similarly.

"You bastard!" Andy said. "What is this!?"

"It is your initiation," the man said dryly.

This was bad. He looked at the bodies of his two friends helplessly flailing. It filled him with horror… anger… a feeling of utter powerlessness.

Andy thought about fighting, he thought about resisting. The two people he knew, his only friends on this side of the afterlife, were writhing on the floor in immense pain. But he felt helpless to do anything about it.

The hairless man then approached Andy.

There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nothing to do.

The man reached out his long-nailed fingers. Andy didn't move.

"Very good," he said. "Very good indeed."

Finger made contact with face, and Andy felt an immense pain light through his entire body as he fell over. All of his muscles began contracting wildly.

Andy decided to fight it.

He let out a scream, a scream not of despair, but of immense effort, of defiance.

He fought the convulsions as much as he could. He would hold onto his consciousness as long as he could out of sheer spite.

Everything in his body was working against him. All of his nerves were protesting the immense, overwhelming pain that washed over him, wave after wave, without stopping.

The pain continued as the room went completely dark. Only the hairless man remained.

"You exhibit great will," the man said, his voice echoing weirdly, as if in Andy's mind. "You don't break down so easily."

Andy was struggling to find words amidst the overwhelming pain. He groaned as he continued to hang onto consciousness.

"What do you want with me?" Andy managed to say.

"I want to show you who you really are," said the man. "Believe it or not, I am helping you."

Andy's abdominal muscles contracted, pulling him into the fetal position. Then, immediately, his back muscles contracted, pulling him apart and causing him to arch grotesquely.

"How… is… this… helping… you… sick… fuck…"

Andy continued thrashing on the floor, curling and uncurling uncontrollably. He tried his best to position his head so he could see Arlene and Kermit, but the room no longer existed. He was utterly alone, and so were his friends.

"I want to show you something," the man said.

Andy's body suddenly relaxed. He took a breath.

A scene appeared before him:

it was his art course in high school. Andy saw himself attempting to draw, getting frustrated.

"An artist, eh?" the man said.

Andy saw himself looking at another student's painting, saw himself crumpling up his own sketch and tossing it into the trash, rushing out of the room.

"Envious, are we?" the man said.

The bodily pain took a back seat as the psychic pain picked up.

Andy suddenly felt panicked, like a cornered animal. This man was suddenly exposing things about his past that Andy had forgotten. He felt embarrassed, a slow, seething, humiliated anger growing in him.

"Do you see what I see?" the man said. "I see an envious, pathetic worm."

Andy squirmed. The man was giving voice to Andy's own self-loathing, a feeling he had known for many years of his life.

The scene changed. Now, Andy was under a piano. His father was explaining that art school was out of the question, that piano sales would be a good career for him. After his father left, Andy saw himself begin to cry as he attempted to fix a broken pedal.

Andy remembered that day clearly: he remembered how it felt to know that his future was already determined, to know that his best days were behind him and in front of him was only frustration, desperation, soul-death.

He remembered when he broke down under that piano. The pedal was broken and he was fumbling his tools. Nothing was working correctly. Finally, he had had enough. He had let it all out, right there at work. Thankfully, his dad had not been in the room.

"Pathetic," the hairless man said. "You can't fix a piano without crying... and you think you deserve to pass your initiation? What have you ever done to deserve something like this?"

Andy began to curl up. All the good feelings he had experienced, all of the meaning and purpose he had found just yesterday, it felt vanishingly small, if not absent. Suddenly he felt himself a frustrated teenager again. He felt rage, self-hatred.

Maybe the man was right. Maybe he deserved to fail. Maybe he was seeing all this so he would know why he was a failure. It wasn't a defect in what he did, it was a defect in who he was.

Then Andy saw himself hit his head on the underside of the piano.

The Andy in the vision, the one repairing the piano, the one who had just hit his head, exclaimed: "fucking shit nipples!"

Now that was funny.

The vision began to waver as Andy, the real Andy, began to laugh. He couldn't help it, it was a funny swear. Its absurdity cut right through his sadness.

Then, his continuing laughter seemed to do something: it sent warm, reassuring currents through his body, easing his pain, allowing him some distance from his thoughts.

"It is funny, isn't it. You, an undeserving worm," the man continued. "I see a brat."

The man's word's didn't hurt so much in the midst of laughter. In fact, Andy hardly noticed it at all. His laughter grew more intense until his sides hurt. Even in the midst of this trial, he was surprised at the depth of joy he got when he allowed his sense of humor to challenge his dour mood.

Finally, he calmed down. He was utterly exhausted, as the pain picked back up.

"Renounce yourself," the man said. "Renounce yourself and your pathetic life."

Andy's laughter had challenged his self-loathing, and now it was making the way for a different attitude to emerge in him: compassion.

To Andy's surprise, he saw his past self more clearly than he ever had before. And he loved that boy.

He wanted the best for himself.

Sure, he was a frustrated teenager growing up. So what?

In fact, he felt a swelling sense of tenderness for himself. For that scared, frustrated boy under the piano who thought he had to kill his dreams to survive.

"No," Andy said. "No I don't think I will."

The vision changed again. This time, it was Andy headed to work again, the day that the piano fell. His father instructed him to secure the piano on the crane. In the vision, Andy waved him off.

"Lazy," said the man. "Lazy and petulant."

"You've never had a bad day at work?" Andy shot back.

All these years Andy had despised the person that he saw in the mirror, but now, he was eager to leap to his defense. Not out of anxiety, or embarrassment, but out of genuine self-compassion, out of a gentle, quiet love.

He wanted what was best for that boy he had been.

"No, I don't think I will renounce myself," Andy said. "That kid was doing his best, and he is who made me… who I am now."

"Renounce yourself," the man said, "and I will grant your initiation."

Andy took a deep breath. Despite his laughter, his body was weakening by the second, caught in this man's weird spell. He had hit a wall.

He was exhausted.

He mustered up all his strength, but he could only get out two words.

"Fuck off," Andy said.

Andy suddenly felt himself flooded with warmth and light as his senses were overtaken by the most soothing peace, as if God himself were embracing him.

Right there, on the cold floor of the Temple of Initiation, Andy fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.