“Don’t follow any advice, no matter how good, until you feel as deeply in your spirit as you think in your mind that the counsel is wise.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson, American Philosopher

Bethany stood mesmerized by the sight before them. The hedge maze stretched on for miles, its passageways faintly illuminated by the light of the stars above. Its walls were forty feet high and covered in sharp thorns and brambles. An ancient, crumbling stone path led into the maze, and an eerie wind without origin blew from within.

“It’s huge,” Bethany whispered with a mix of awe and trepidation. “We have to find our way though this? It could take days.”

She glanced at Delorus, who stared at the entrance to the maze – a long passageway that disappeared into darkness – with wide-eyed anxiety. It was disconcerting to see the trained officer wear her emotions on her sleeve.

“Is every arena like this?” Delorus breathed, trying to retain her composure. “How are you all so calm?”

“We’re not,” admitted Rocky, and the others nodded in agreement. “We’ve just seen worse.”

“This could be worse,” countered Elias, his eyes fixed on the entrance to the maze, as if waiting for monsters to emerge at any moment. “Stay on your guard.”

He held his sword of flame above his head, illuminating the passageway into the maze. Thorny shadows danced to its flickering fire, lending a haunting surrealness to the world around them.

“Harmony, scout our way,” Bethany said softly as she touched the child’s shoulder for comfort. Despite Harmony’s brave face, Bethany could feel her shake with fear. Her brother, on the other hand, appeared almost giddy for the adventure.

“I can only send them to the first bend in the path,” Harmony advised as her best drawn – and therefore fastest –paper eagle sped down the passageway into the maze. It reached the first intersection fifty meters away, gazed around the corner, and flew back. Landing on Harmony’s shoulder, it gave a quiet series of whistles before rejoining the other eagles that circled Harmony’s head.

“There’s nothing there,” Harmony relayed, and Bethany felt her shoulders relax.

“Harmony, how did we ever do this without you?” Rocky praised, and Harmony blushed at the compliment.

“Remarkable,” Delorus breathed as she leaned in to study a paper eagle. The eagle, enjoying the attention, spiraled in the air before landing on her palm to show its paper talons to the officer. “How… how did she create this? And this man’s flaming sword. The woman’s claws…”

“They were rewards for defeating arenas. The talents are different each time,” Bethany explained as they moved into the maze, loose stones crunching beneath their feet. The thorny walls towered over them made Bethany feel claustrophobic, and she was grateful for the distraction the conversation promised. She walked beside the officer, careful not to get too close to the thorn-covered walls. They could travel three abreast through the passageway if they wished, but it was tight. “Didn’t your Chief tell you about the rewards?”

“No, he didn’t,” Delorus said, unnerved by the omission. “And I haven’t heard of anyone having such powers at Headquarters. Either no one has them or…”

“Or anyone who does has been told to keep them a secret,” Elias finished for her. “Haven’t seen much of the cops since this whole thing started.”

There was an accusation in his tone that surprised Bethany.

“After this contest began, Chief Benton ordered everyone to bring their families to Headquarters,” Delorus said, her voice heavy with held-back emotion. “Not everyone made it. A few days later, he assembled us into squads, and we headed out into the city. We only made it three blocks out before the monsters forced us back.”

“They forced you back?” Rocky asked curiously.

Delorus nodded. “The larger our numbers, the more monsters arrived to fight us. It was as if we’d become a beacon that attracted them. The mistake cost us dearly. We were five hundred strong when we set out. Five hundred well-trained, well-equipped officers. Now, less than two hundred of my coworkers – my friends – are left.”

“Delorus, I’m so sorry,” Bethany said, shocked. “That’s awful.”

“So what did you do?” asked Rocky sympathetically.

“We fell back and built a wall from abandoned cars and junk – two blocks out from Headquarters. We’ve been holding that territory ever since. Benton sends out patrols to find supplies and rescue those trapped in their homes. He recruits anyone willing to fight into our ranks to man our wall, and we do what we can to train them. We no longer leave the perimeter in large groups – smaller teams are more effective.”

“It’s not a bad survival strategy,” Rocky remarked. Bethany wondered if the strategy had a page in his survival notebook. “Except it begs one important question.”

“If everyone is trying to protect and supply Headquarters, what is Benton doing all the way out here?” Delorus filled in, surprising Rocky with her insight. “I’ve asked the same question myself. I fear – with your revelation of these powers – I might now know, though the implications are worrisome.”

“There’s something up ahead,” Harmony interrupted as a paper eagle landed on her shoulder. “A chamber, with a statue in the middle. It only has its head and shoulders… I don’t know what that’s called.”

“A bust,” Emily informed her.

Brandon snorted with the laughter of an eleven-year-old boy. Elias and Rocky chuckled with him, and Emily and Bethany rolled her eyes.

“Even in a nightmare world, boys will be boys,” Delorus said.

Emily nudged Rocky disapprovingly in the ribs, then formed her metal claws as they approached the chamber.

Here we go. Time to see what manner of challenge this maze truly is.

Bethany’s hands hovered above her ball-peen hammer, though she kept her light contained to preserve her magic.

Carved from simply grey stone, the bust of the elderly man rested upon a stone pillar in the middle of the large chamber in the maze. His head was bald, and he had a beard that stretched the length of his chin and flowed down to this chest.

Beyond the bust, the passageway split into three possible paths, each blocked with a grey, semi-translucent film that flittered with flashes of faint color in the darkness.

“Brandon, can you test that barrier?” Rocky requested. “I want to know how solid it actually is.”

“Umm… sure,” Brandon answered. He dug into his pocket, pulled out a nail, and launched it at the left passageway.

The nail struck the barrier hard and shattered. Tiny, superheated fragments rained down upon the players.

“Fuck!” Emily said as a fragment struck her forearm and left a small welt. “So… don’t touch the barrier. Got it.”

Rocky held Emily’s arm gently and placed his palm over the welt. His hand glowed blue, and the welt disappeared.

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“Thanks, honey,” whispered Emily, gazing appreciatively into her lover’s eyes.

Bethany approached the bust, and Elias’ followed behind, holding his sword aloft to illuminate the darkness.

The eyes of the bust flickered open as Bethany approached. She leapt backwards in surprise and drew her hammer.

A voice began to emanate from the bust.

It was a voice Bethany had heard before.

The voice of Omoikane. Counsel of Authority.

A king lay on his deathbed. Before him stand his two sons. The eldest, the rightful heir, commands the heart of the army and will wage war upon their neighbour if he assumes the throne. The youngest commands the heart of the people and would disband the army to make way for an artistic renaissance. Between them stands their sister, whom the king loves most of all, and whom he has sheltered from the world to protect her from its harsh realities. Advice the king on his successor.

“That’s it? We just have to say which heir the king should select?” Rocky asked, surprised.

Yes. You now have two questions remaining.

“You know, Omoikane, that’s some real jackassery right there,” Rocky remarked, perturbed at the hidden rule. “No one ask the statue a question until we figure out what we need to know.”

They gathered in a circle, and Emily repeated the scenario word-for-word until they had parsed out all the information they could.

“The youngest son is the obvious choice,” Elias started. “Kings are meant to govern for the people, and if he has the heart of the people, he’s got a hell of a head start.”

“The eldest would take them to war, and the daughter is too naïve to rule,” Emily added.

“And he loves art!” Harmony chimed in excitedly. “Anyone who loves art can’t be a bad guy.”

“I mean, Hitler loved art,” Rocky whispered, earning an elbow in the ribs from Emily.

“Who would you pick then, smartass?” Emily asked with a playful frown at her lover.

Rocky thought for a long moment.

“In Thoth’s Arena, I was shown biased memories of Brad. He was trying to trick me into making a biased decision. This question has the same feeling – the choices are phrased to lead you towards an obvious answer. The youngest is a saint. The eldest son is a warmonger. The daughter is naïve. The youngest is the obvious choice.”

“A little too obvious,” Delorus agreed.

“We assume that war with the neighbouring kingdom is a wrong decision,” Rocky continued. “What if it’s not? What if war is inevitable?”

“Then the eldest may be the better choice,” Bethany agreed. “Survival trumps luxury in dangerous times.”

A lesson I know all too well. Luxury has been but a distance dream in my life.

“We should ask more about this neighbouring kingdom,” Bethany concluded.

There was agreement around the circle, and Bethany approached the bust.

“Omoikane, tell us about the nature of the relationship between the neighbouring kingdoms,” Bethany asked, intentionally keeping her statement broad.

The edges of the bust’s stone mouth curled into a sly smile.

Peace between the two kingdoms rests on a knife’s edge. They are eternal enemies, locked in an endless war. During his reign, the dying king presided over temporary peace – a peace built upon shrewd political strategy and strength of arms. Yet the bachelor king of the neighbouring kingdom is young and ambitious and waits for the death of his rival so he may add this kingdom to his own.

“Well, so much for the youngest son,” Elias admitted, skuttling his previous opinion. “Disbanding the army is the last thing this kingdom needs.”

“In that case, the eldest makes the most sense,” Rocky agreed. “We don’t know how he’d rule – he could be a tyrant – but it won’t matter much if there is no kingdom left to rule.”

There was a murmur of agreement amongst the group, yet Bethany stayed silent, a nagging thought working its way through her head.

This choice isn’t right. Omoikane had years to design his challenges, yet he’s asking us to pick from amongst three bad choices? A three-option multiple choice test? The god advises Authority himself. His challenge can’t be that simple.

She had eavesdropped on Omoikane in the halls of God Home. The elderly god believed the God Contest to be – in his words – barbaric, and had spent years searching for an alternative, without success. He believed the God Contest to be antithetical to the gods’ fundamental nature purpose.

He doesn’t like conflict. He doesn’t want death. Yet with all three options, the war still rages on and countless innocents die. It is just like the God Contest – unending misery with no hope in sight. There must be another way. A way to end the conflict between the kingdoms once and for all.

The solution came to Bethany like a lightning bolt illuminating the darkness.

“Emily, how did Omoikane describe the neighbouring king?” Bethany asked eagerly.

“The king? Young and ambitious,” Emily recalled.

“No, before that,” Bethany prompted, hoping she was remembering the description correctly.

“… bachelor?”

“Yes! Why would Omoikane tell us he was a bachelor unless the information was important?” Bethany exclaimed. “It’s like Rocky said when I first met you. This entire world was designed right down to the tiniest detail. Everything is a conscious choice, so telling us he is a bachelor must be meaningful.”

“If he’s a bachelor, he can marry,” reasoned Emily, as she grasped hold of Bethany’s notion.

“There is a way for the king to end this war,” Bethany proclaimed. “He makes his daughter his heir, on the condition that she marry the neighbouring king and unite their countries in a single kingdom.”

“Would that work?” Rocky asked, contemplating the idea.

“And can we choose that?” Elias added. “It wasn’t one of the options.”

“Royalty has been marrying off their children to each other for centuries to form alliances,” Emily chimed in, reflecting Bethany’s enthusiasm.

“Omoikane isn’t looking for us to pick one of his three obvious options,” Bethany said with certainty. “He wants us to think beyond bigger. To take in the problem in its entirety and think through all the resources at our disposal.”

“And to think of the impact beyond tomorrow,” Emily added. “Seven generations. That’s what my parents taught me. Whatever decision we make, it should ensure the survival of the seventh generation, not just those alive today.”

“But we can’t force her to marry a bad guy!” Harmony protested. “What if she loves someone else, or what if he hurts her?”

“Or what if the king doesn’t want to marry some gross princess,” Brandon added, sticking out his tongue.

“They have a point,” Elias agreed, staring towards the bust. “There’s a lot that could go wrong with this choice. We should ask.”

Bethany strode over to the bust. “If the daughter were to marry the neighbouring king, what would be the result?”

Their marriage would form the foundation of an age of peace and prosperity for the citizenry of the new kingdom. Yet it would not be without sacrifice. The king would pass into the next world without kinship, for all three of his children would loath the man whom they once called father. His daughter would live her life alone, locked in an empty and loveless marriage, until the end of her days. The dreams of the king’s two sons would fade, and they would grow bitter and resentful, fomenting chaos in the realm that would cost the lives of many. And the young king, faced with strife, rebellion, and endless struggles, would find himself quickly aged beyond his years, his youth and health sacrificed on the altar of prosperity, and be rewarded with an early grave.

They sat in silence for a long while, weighing the impact of their decision.

How many lives do you sacrifice for peace? Is it moral to alleviate the suffering of the many by forcing the sacrifice onto the few?

Bethany recalled the kindly god’s face. Omoikane was a god who believed in guiding humanity, and who disapproved of the self-interest of the gods. A god who believed it was the gods who should sacrifice, not the masses they are intended to guide.

“It must be done,” Bethany concluded. “The sacrifices of a few are a small price for the prosperity of so many others.”

“The kings and the children – as far as we know, they haven’t done anything wrong,” Rocky said cautiously. “Are you certain, Bethany?”

“No,” Bethany admitted. “But if we must wait for certainty, we’ll be in the maze for a very long time.”

They debated amongst themselves for several more minutes, yet the conversation always circled back to the marriage. It was the best advice they had.

Bethany stood before the bust of Omoikane. Her hands shook as she gave their answer, as carefully phrased as Omoikane’s own words had been.

“The king loves his children,” Bethany started, her eyes closed as she focused on the story. “Yet his first love must always be his kingdom and his people. For if it is not, he is no king. Thus, it falls upon the king, in his final hour, to make a decision that sets the course for peace and prosperity for his people, not only for tomorrow, but for the day after that, and the one beyond that, far beyond the lifetimes of his children’s children. Here is our counsel to the king. He should choose his daughter as his successor, on the condition that she marry the neighbouring king and merge their kingdoms, that they may find peace as a single kingdom rather than live their days with bloodshed.”

The bust of Omoikane sat silent for a dozen heartbeats before his voice filled the chamber once more.

To see beyond the simple choice – to let the mind freely explore the vast planes of possibility – is the first lesson of true wisdom. The wise know that there is no black and white. No dichotomy of choice, even when choice is presented as such. Once this is understood, counsel becomes a matter of knowing what is sacrificed, and what is gained from that sacrifice. And being brave enough to counsel in spite of that knowledge.

The barrier of darkness across the leftmost path melted away, revealing a way forward. The passageway stretch fifty meters into the darkness, where the light of Elias’s flame died away.

You may proceed further into my maze.

The bust of Omoikane disintegrated into fine grey sand that sank beneath the soil.

As the final grain disappeared, the thorns along the maze wall began to blossom. Red and yellow bioluminescent flowers sprang forth, covering the wall in a warm, peaceful glow. The sight of it calmed Bethany’s heart, until the first waft of its scent reached her.

It was the smell of death and decay – the price paid for peace.