To Jeb’s relief, the fighter opposite him seemed equally constrained. Rather than attempting to create any sort of Magical working, he rushed towards Jeb. Everything about the way that the Druid screamed that he was far less trained than the others Jeb had faced. Nonetheless, he was still more trained in fighting than Jeb.

Jeb threw a punch at the Druid when he came in range. The Druid, unsurprisingly, ducked underneath the punch and threw one in return at Jeb’s ribs. It hurt far less than the other punches he had received that day, and Jeb took a moment to bemoan the choices that had led him to needing to be grateful for that fact. The Druid leapt back, and Jeb chased after, unwilling to let him take control of the fight’s pace.

Exchange after exchange, Jeb ended up taking far more hits than his opponent. Still, even if he hadn’t learned how to fight growing up, he’d still learned the value of a high pain tolerance. If the crowd’s hushed comments were any indication, Jeb was lasting far longer than they had expected. No one seemed surprised, however, when Jeb eventually lost the fight.

The healer came over again and patched up both of their injuries. When he had finished, the Archdruid came over to Jeb and helped him up.

“Trialist, the final portion of your Trial awaits.”

With that, he started walking off. Jeb followed, unsure what else to do. They walked for a long while in silence. Jeb kept opening his mouth to say something before closing it, unsure what to ask.

When they finally reached a cave, the Archdruid turned back to Jeb for the first time since setting off.

“Your final Trial will take place within this cavern. Inside, you will find a fire burning down and a woven mat. Sit on the mat and gaze into the fire. Contemplate what you see.”

Having said his piece, the Archdruid turned and stepped through a beam of sunlight. Jeb found himself alone again. Looking into the dark cave, he found that he was completely unafraid. The Druids, for all their talk of letting him be injured, had kept him safe through all of his Trials thus far. Nodding to himself, Jeb stepped inside and walked to the fire.

The fire was nearly dead, sending large clouds of smoke billowing into the room. Taking a breath, Jeb was surprised to find that the smoke tasted far sweeter than he had expected. Looking more closely, he saw that the Druids had put some sort of incense in the embers. It was those herbs and resins that were giving off smoke, not half-burnt pieces of wood.

Still, that much smoke in a contained environment still displaced a lot of the air. Jeb found himself feeling lightheaded, and moved to sit on the woven mat. His vision started swimming as he looked into the fire.

Tendrils of smoke began growing scales. As the snakes finished forming, they wound around each other before moving to wrap around Jeb. Despite the fact that they should have been made entirely of smoke, Jeb felt their weight and the texture of their scales on his arms and shoulders. Remembering the Archdruid’s advice, if only barely, he did not let the snakes distract him and continued to focus on the fire. The snakes merged into each other, forming larger and larger reptiles.

Seeing that Jeb was not going to turn to them, the scaled beasts collapsed back into smoke. Other creatures formed in their place. As the smoke kept filling the room, Jeb’s head swam as visions of beasts mighty and humble paraded around him. The beasts began to fade, smoke pouring into the single being that was now taking shape. Jeb saw the vague outline of something growing wings and then shedding them.

A small ember suddenly caught flame. In the light of the new fire, Jeb felt his mind and body separate, if only for the briefest of moments. When they reconnected, something in the room had changed. It took Jeb a few moments to realize what it was: sitting across from him was the form of Magic.

Magic gazed coolly at Jeb, smoke pouring out of its mouth as it spoke. “Child of man, you have once again called me.”

It looked around the space, and Jeb followed its gaze, noting the intricate patterns etched onto the walls and ceiling. They were not quite runes or Glyphs, but something about them told Jeb that they were at least close relatives of the two forms of Magic. Even though he was unable to find any meaning in the delicate loops and whorls, Magic seemed to find whatever it had been looking for.

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“Thank you for finally using one of the old rites to summon me,” it finally spoke.

Jeb grimaced, and Magic honed in on that expression. Sighing, it continued, “tell me how you came here.”

Jeb quickly walked through the Trials that the Druids had given him. Seeing that the being in front of him was unsatisfied with his answer, he went further back, describing how he had been coerced into taking the Trials. By the time that he had finished retracing his story, Jeb realized that he had given a summary of his entire life since the first time he had met Magic in a dream. Still, it wanted him to go back further.

When Jeb got to the moment that the Paragons had given him his first Class, however, the being nodded. It held out a hand for him to stop speaking, and Jeb did, shutting his mouth mid sentence as he was about to explain why he had hoped for a different Class.

“I have heard enough of your life story. I have a question for you, however. Do you know how many times the average Mage meets with me?”

Jeb shrugged. “I have to assume less than the three times that I’ve met with you, if you’re asking.”

Magic let out a sigh. Jeb had never seen it acting so human before. More than anything, that scared him. If a force of the universe was taking on human qualities, what did that mean for him?

“You are correct. I meet with everyone who uses my gifts when they ascend to the Eleventh Tier and each Tier after that. However, so few make it even to that point, as I am sure you are aware.”

Jeb nodded. “So why do we keep meeting?”

“Indeed. Among the children of men, there are few who I have met with even once before they reach,” it paused for a moment, clearly trying to find the word that Jeb would understand, “Tenth Tier.” There was clearly some meaning behind Tenth Tier that Magic was not communicating. Jeb had to assume that it related to the fact that Tenth Tier was where Classholders stopped aging at all. “Those that I do meet with are almost always Mages that I have a mission for.”

Magic fell silent before staring at Jeb. He could feel the being poring through not just his Status, but every Status that he had ever had. After what felt like an eternity, Magic blinked once. It was enough to break whatever spell had kept Jeb motionless, and he shivered from the feeling.

“There is no grand Quest which guides your actions,” Magic finally pronounced.

“What about the Major Quest that I was given when I received my Class?” Jeb protested.

Magic cocked its head. Something about the motion made Jeb realize that it was mimicking his own reactions. He was sure that there was some meaning behind that fact, but the haze from the smoke kept him from understanding what, exactly, it was.

“What about it?” it asked. “A Quest from your,” it paused, clearly searching for the term that Jeb had used, “paragons, is of little import to greater reality. Petty squabbles between nations only very rarely involve anything more than those nations. However,” it looked at Jeb again, and Jeb had the feeling that some part of his Status invisible to even him was suddenly laid open for Magic. “No,” it finally said, shaking one of the heads it had grown. “There is no great working to which you are bound. However, as you have called me here within the ancient rites, even if unknowingly, I am bound to answer a question of yours.”

Magic suddenly shifted, taking the form of the cave that he was in. A voice whispered into his ear, “What do you desire, child of man?”

Another voice spoke softly as Jeb felt hands run down his arms, “do you wish to know how to bind others to your cause?”

A lion came to lay its head in his lap, meeting Jeb’s eyes and asking, “or do you wish to know how to live at one with Nature.”

“I can tell that you are trying to become like the Druids,” the cave itself said, “who practice but the faintest flicker of the bonfire that was Druidic Magic. I could teach you secrets which have been hidden for longer than man has existed.”

Magic reformed itself, sitting down across from Jeb. It looked exactly like him, and it mirrored every action he took, no matter how small. “So,” he heard his own voice ask him, “what is your question?”

Jeb looked around, trying to figure out why the cavern suddenly felt different. He realized that the fire had finally gone out, and the smoke was starting to clear through small holes in the walls of the cavern. As he tried to figure out where the holes would lead, he heard his mirror cough.

“Your time grows short,” he said, gesturing to the fading smoke.

“What would you ask if you were in my position?” Jeb asked as the last wisps of smoke drifted away.

“Who am I?”

He heard the answer drifting on the breeze of air that suddenly rushed into the cavern. Blinking, Jeb found himself looking at his soul. It had changed in his time at the Druidic Enclave. Bars like iron ran through him, reinforcing each weakness that he once had. Looking more carefully, Jeb saw that the bars appeared organic in nature, bending and vining around each other.

As suddenly as he found himself in his soul, Jeb found himself back in the cavern. The Archdruid was standing where Magic had been just a few moments before. He stared at Jeb.

Compared to the piercing gaze that Magic had, Jeb hardly noticed the Archdruid’s pressure. After a long minute, where Jeb tried to remember the melody he was certain had been playing while he spoke to Magic, the Archdruid spoke.

“You have failed this Trial,” he said simply, turning to leave the cavern.

Jeb followed, more curious than ever about what a success would have meant.