As we trudged through the dense, swampy terrain of the Boglands, the air was thick with the scent of damp earth and the distant croaks of unseen creatures. I wasn’t sure exactly where we were going, but my companion seemed to—and I needed to get myself some healing. The wounds were no longer bleeding out—but they still hurt like a righteous bitch.

Otho, spectral as ever, moved alongside me, his ghostly form projecting out of the attavita, while I found myself stumbling more often than I'd have liked. While we’d—or I guess I’d—stomped around, Otho had taken the time to advise me on how to best allocate the newfangled Stig o’ mine.

"So," I began. "Four Stig into Galdur, you said? And one to…Deftness—er, um, Fimi?”

Otho glanced at me, his ethereal eyes glinting with a kind of ancient wisdom.

"Aye,” he said. “That’s the way of it.”

He paused and then sighed, looking at me.

“Ye said ye’d trust my opinion on this. Already wheeling yer cart backward?”

“No! Not at all,” I said. “Just confirming. And…not that I’m trying to be contrary—I really just want to understand the process you’re itching at—but why?”

“Boy, in these early stages of the Trial, yer Galdur is what'll keep ye alive more than anything else. It's your most powerful resource."

I nodded. That made sense. But, just because I was going to heed his wisdom didn’t mean I wasn’t going to play a bit of devil’s advocate.

"But you said something else about not placing one in each, right? I see five Stig and five places to place them. Simple math states that’s an easy equation. Ain't spreading them out more sensible? You know…to keep things balanced?"

The ghost chuckled, a sound like wind rustling through dry leaves—but I could tell he seemed a bit…disappointed. Which kinda made me feel a little crummy—but I needed to learn, didn’t I? Couldn’t be relying on…specters for everything, could I?

"Aye, that's a common mistake,” Otho said, his eyes watching me as he spoke a bit more carefully. “Spreading 'em too thin just makes ye slightly better at being average, eh? But right now, ye need to focus on yer strengths. Enhancing yer Galdur means ye won't be finding' yerself powerless at a bad moment."

We navigated around a particularly large puddle, the murky water reflecting the haunting lights from the braziers we'd left behind.

"Fair enough," I mused. "But why put any into Deftness at all, then? Why not all in on Galdur?"

Otho, who’d been projected a bit ahead of me, paused, looking back at me with a serious expression that seemed out of place on his usually jovial face.

"Because, boy, if all else fails, ye want a better chance to dodge.”

I pondered his words quietly for a moment, while Otho continued.

"As for Galdur, it's more than just hurling hexar around. It's about understanding the deeper workings of the Bog, connecting with it—the life around ye. It's a kind of knowing that can turn the edge for ye in ways nothing else can, boy."

I absorbed his explanation, feeling a newfound…respect? Something, anyway, for the mystical aspects of the Trial.

"So, it's like... harnessing' the, uh, essence of this place—or something?"

"Exactly!" Otho exclaimed, his ghostly form almost shimmering with enthusiasm. "Ye're catching on quick, boy. Galdur ain't just about flashy hexar, or jinxar and such. It's about perception, understanding, and manipulating the fundamental forces at play here."

We continued our journey, the swamp around us alive with sounds and shadows that danced just out of sight. Otho's words echoed in my mind, painting a picture of a path that I wasn’t exactly sure meant, but, I'd be all sorts of fixing to do my best at.

"Alright, Otho," I finally said, feeling a sense of resolve settle over me. "Let's do it. Four Stig to Galdur, one to Fimi. Let's fuck shit up."

“Ah—what’s that, now, boy?”

—

About twenty minutes after our allocation conversation, the swamp began to clear, revealing a sight that stopped me dead in my tracks. The ruins, which I vaguely remembered from before, now stood imposingly in the twilight, but something was different.

"Wait just a damn second," I muttered, squinting at the structure. The ruins, perched atop a small hill and looking every bit as decrepit as I remembered, now boasted a slender stone tower rising about thirty feet from its center. It looked old, ready to crumble at a moment's notice, but I was sure it hadn't been there before.

Otho, noticing my confusion, followed my gaze. "What's eating ye, boy?"

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

"That tower," I pointed. "Was that…now, I’m going to sound as dumb as kerosene-doused muskrat, but was that there last time? Looks like it could fall over if I sneezed on it, but I don't remember seeing it before."

Otho’s spectral form hovered beside me as he peered at the structure.

"Ah, that's Riddara... always been an admirer. It's a bit of a puzzle, those ruins, always changing, suppose. Reflects the nature of the Trial, it does. Least, that’s my guess.”

I frowned, trying to make sense of it.

"So, what, it just grew out of the ground? These ruins…what? Change with the Trial?"

"Aye…they might,” Otho said. “Each Trial's different…so, perhaps the ruins morph to fit the challenge. Keeps participants on their toes?"

“You don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t,” Otho said, scrunching his face up. “Just making it up as I go. Can’t exactly tell ye if I’ve never been allowed in, can I?”

My eyes traced the lines of the tower, noticing Myri's telltale glow emanating from an outcropping at its summit. "Strange," I murmured. Then I turned back, Otho’s words ringing resoundingly in my mind as I caught up to what he’d said.

“Huh? Not allowed in? Like, you’re banned?”

Just then, Otho's form began to waver.

"Now, boy, I need to make myself scarce for a bit. Can't be privy to the details of what's next in the Trial, see? Rules and all."

"Wait, what? You're leaving me here?" I asked, a twinge of anxiety creeping into my voice.

"Just for a bit, boy. Ye'll do fine. Got the Bog Steward now, don’t ye? Remember what we talked about, aye? Focus on yer Galdur, use it wisely. Ye'll need it."

With those parting words, Otho's form dissipated, leaving me standing alone at the edge of the ruins. The silence of the swamp was suddenly more profound.

I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves. "Well, shit. Alright, Leo, you've got this," I whispered to myself, staring up at the mysterious tower and the glowing figure of Myri.

With Otho gone, I approached the tower cautiously, my eyes fixed on Myri's glow up near the top. The tower's presence was imposing, and I had to stand there a sec and just live in the awe of it. I mean, this thing just…appeared. Somehow, even though I’d been walking on water and conjuring mist like a damn magical fog machine this was what was throwing me for a loop. After a while, I decided I should probably get going on whatever it is I needed to do next, so I looked back up at the rhombus and gave it a shout.

"Hey, Myri!" I yelled, hoping to catch the attention of the metallic diamond entity. But it didn’t react, remaining as still and silent as the ruins themselves.

Well, huh…

I circled the base of the tower, searching for an entryway or a ladder, something that would grant me access to the world above. But it was to no avail; despite the state of the thing, the tower was seamless when it came to entry, its surface unmarred by doors or footholds. It was as if the tower was meant to be admired from afar, not explored up close. Like one of those paintings you see at a museum.

I ain’t gonna lie, with my injuries and lack of any progress on this venture, I was feeling a bit thwarted. As such, I wandered deeper into the ruins. The place had a certain serene beauty in its quiet splendor. Stone structures, half-eaten by time, were scattered about, creating a maze of shadows and silhouettes in the wan light. The air was still and placid here, the swamp's chorus distant, as if respecting the ruins themselves.

Among the structures, I spotted one that caught my interest. It was a miserable-looking building, with no roof and only three walls standing. But something caught my eye—what I thought might be crates or something. I got a bit excited at that prospect, so I went in.

Inside, to my surprise, were…chests? They were scattered haphazardly, as if left in a hurry, or perhaps hidden and forgotten.

These big boxes, actually resembling old steam trunks more than treasure chests, were of various sizes. Their locks were rusted and mangled, clear signs of age and neglect. I approached the nearest one, excitement bubbling inside me.

Now we’re talking! I thought. What kinda secrets you hidin’ in there, chest?

With a gentle push, the lid creaked open, and a swarm of bugs burst out, scuttling in every direction.

“Yeargh! Shit!” I jumped back, cursing. It took me a minute to get my bearings, watching this mass of insects writhing—thinking to myself the owl-goats would love stumbling on to a buffet like this. Still…couldn’t be all of ‘em filled with critters, right? I examined the other chests. Sure enough, they were empty, devoid of anything but the memories of what they might have once held. But something itched at me. There were about five of these things in total, each about three feet tall and four feet wide.

Turning back to the tower, I noticed an outcropping about twenty feet up. It seemed just large enough to stand on, though how I'd reach it was another question. Then I looked back at the boxes and I grinned.

A few minutes later, I was regretting my previous confidence.

After gathering all the chests, I stacked them up in a precarious tower of my own, right next to the stone tower. It was a bit of a gamble, but I figured it was worth a shot. After all, what was the worst that could happen? A few more bruises to add to my collection? I took a deep breath, checked my grip, and started climbing my makeshift ladder.

It wasn't elegant, and it sure as shit wasn't safe. The chests creaked and groaned under my weight, threatening to topple at any moment. I cursed under my breath with every uneasy step, promising all sorts of retribution to the universe for putting me in this situation. By the time I reached the top chest, I was huffing and puffing, my muscles screaming in protest.

I made it to the first landing, and then looked up to the next leg. The other platform, the one Myri was on, was about ten feet above, and from here, I could see a few stones making up the exterior of the tower that would work as long as I was careful.

“Well, let’s get to it, then,” I said.

After another ten minutes, I hoisted myself onto the final outcropping, my heart pounding in my ears. I took a moment to catch my breath, then looked up at Myri. The floating metallic diamond seemed to be waiting for me, its glow steady and calm.

"Leo," Myri greeted me in its usual, resonant tone. "You have ascended."

"Yeah, and nearly killed myself doing it," I grumbled, pushing myself to my feet. "What's the deal, Myri? Why all the way up here? And where did this tower come from?"

Myri's glow pulsed softly as it replied, "This location is essential for the next phase of your Trial."

I was about to ask what that meant when I noticed something floating in front of Myri. A black orb, about the size of a basketball, hovered in the air. It was completely black, like a hole in the world, absorbing all the light around it. The sight of it sent a shiver down my spine.

"Well…that doesn't look too friendly," I remarked, eyeing the orb warily. "What is that thing?"

Myri remained silent for a moment, its light dimming slightly as if in contemplation. "This is a key component of your next challenge," it finally said. "It is a nexus of power, one that you must learn to understand and harness."

I frowned, looking from Myri to the orb and back again. "Harness it? How am I supposed to do that? And what's it for, anyway?"

"This orb represents a convergence of Galdur that are central to the Trial. Your interaction with it will determine a lot of your path forward."

Great, more riddles and cryptic talk. Just what I needed. I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck.

"Alright, fine. But I hope you're planning on giving me a bit more to go on than just 'interact with it.' I mean, do I talk to it? Dance with it? What?"

Myri's glow brightened a bit, as if amused.

"Well, Leo. You need to…touch it.”

“I ain’t touching that!” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve seen Hellraiser, friend. Ain’t nothing good gonna come from me getting my grubby paws on this clearly…haunted object of tremendous power.”

“That is the next step, Leo,” Myri said, and I wasn’t sure, but it sounded…annoyed? Or something. It was reacting a bit poorly to my reticent response with the whole ‘grab the spooky floating dodgeball’ predicament.

I sighed. Then I finally took stock of the height I was at, and felt a little weird in my stomach. A lurching, like anytime I’d been on a Ferris wheel. The swamp below was quiet, the ruins around us bathed in the soft light of twilight. Up here, high above the ground, I felt a strange sense of isolation, as if I were disconnected from the world below. Then I looked back at the orb.

“Alright, then. Screw it,” I said. I touched the orb.