Expecting to see familiar grey walls and the lifewell fountain, Ori was understandably shocked to find himself in a room surrounded by dozens of people. Most were men and women in medieval armour, pikes and swords in hand if not drawn or levelled towards him, while a small number of men and women looked on with intense gazes. Some stared at him while others drew his attention to a woman behind him. Her golden blond hair seemed to dim like sunshine disappearing behind a cloud. Her skin was pale and glistening with sweat, and her age was indeterminate as she smiled with a relief so pure and unrestrained, that she may as well have been the embodiment of a mother finding their lost child.

"Save us," she said with the fervent belief that he could, before her blue eyes rolled back into their skull, and she collapsed. Ori fell to his knees just in time to catch her body before it reached the floor.

"Hey, someone, I could use some help," he panicked as her unnatural stillness in his arms suggested this was no mere fainting episode. "Any healers here?" Ori asked again, this time arching over to check for breath, while his fingers searched for a pulse on her neck. "She's really... she's not well." His voice broke, his mind screaming 'What the fuck' on repeat while his vision blurred unreasonably with unshed tears.

"It's alright, lad, let me," a gentle voice said, Ori flinched as the man took the surprisingly light load of the woman into a princess carry. He was as finely armoured as the rest of the knights and seemed to move with the solidity and Grace of someone a few ranks above mortal. Ori contemplated Noping out of the trial right then and there, unsure of what was happening, and fearing a situation as bad as the last.

"You a healer?" Ori asked dubiously. "And save who? From what?"

"This is no celestial?" a voice from one of the non-armoured knights whispered.

"Quickly, a divination on the summons. Time is pressing..."

"A mortal?!" Another voice gasped.

"No, that cannot be! It cannot!"

"Oh, Seraphs save us,"

“The council shall hear of this calamity! To summon a mere mortal. Of all the possibilities…”

More voices from the onlookers added to a growing murmur of discontent, and it didn't take Ori's newly Awakened mind to piece together some version of events. He was summoned to save a people, a nation? Instead of some all-powerful Johnny McKickass, all they got was Ori McMortalface. Instead of giving a damn, he chose to follow the woman being carried out of the room.

"This farce has gone on long enough. Secure the summon—" A strident shout began before a woman's voice cut in, which was just as well, as Ori had a mind to leave this clusterfuck.

"Fool! This is a man, not a beast, and at the slightest whim, he could vanish with the ease of thought. I will not have my daughter's life spent in vain, nor wasted by the impetuosity of a childish imbecile." The mother spoke. She had long, grey hair that fell as curtains over a pale, wizened face criss-crossed by wrinkles. The bone structure was similar to her daughter, but a fury born of grief gave her a cold sharpness instead of a trusting warmth. Her rebuke seemed to cut through all the murmurs. Ori's eyes darted around, catching glimpses of gleaming eyes, bitter frowns, and shocked expressions. Before Ori could respond, the woman spoke once more. "Sir Summons, I am Lady Lavine of House Searilian."

"That woman..." Ori pointed towards the door. "What happened to her? And what's going on?"

"That… was my daughter, Lady Seraphine. Unfortunately, she is with the seraphs now, child. Her willing sacrifice summoned you to our land. Mortal as you may be, I do have the eye to see such as one who walks the path so stridently as you do." At that pronouncement, all remaining conversations and murmurs ceased.

"She's dead? But can't you just bring her back to life? Like, a resurrection?" Ori gestured towards the door, still somewhat confused and off-balance.

"Had we had one who could have done such for my Seraphine, then perhaps we would not be in this predicament in the first place." The lady's posture seemed to sag with a slow, bone-weary sigh. "But I digress. I presume being gawked at by a roomful of strangers would be somewhat unsettling. It is certainly unbefitting of the hospitality this event deserves. If you would follow me, I would see you clothed and refreshed while you tell us how you came to be here... Sir?"

"Just, Ori." It was then that he realised he was wearing only the same white loincloth he had started with in the prior trial.

"Very well," Lady Lavine said with a gracious bow, before gesturing to a servant. "—Darkon, please see to it. Ori, if you would follow me?"

"I can tolerate your house's insolence for only so long—" The same weaselly voice began, this time Ori turning to catch sight of a narrow-faced, goateed man dressed in finely woven mail.

"Speak another word to me on my estate Garcia, and this antechamber will run crimson with your lifeblood and damn the consequences! For we will all be damned without a miracle before Eltitus reaches our walls." Lavine said, her body vibrating with fury.

“I am Speaker Fitzgerald, also of House Argile, my father sits across the table.” A well-dressed nobleman spoke, his salt and pepper brown, voluminous beard trailing to brush the dining table as he stood to offer a handshake that Ori accepted. With Speaker Fitzgerald and Lady Lavine, seven others stood around a long, stout wooden table heaving with bowls of fruit and steaming bread. More servants brought in jugs of water or ale, and Ori had to repeatedly swallow to contain his saliva.

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“Nice to meet you, Speaker Fitzgerald.” Ori greeted, trying his best to keep his eyes off the food.

“Now that introductions are complete unless I’m mistaken, it would seem that we are all quite famished.” Lady Lavine gestured towards the spread. As they sat, Ori spent one microsecond debating the merits of refusing the food, due to concerns of poisoning and the potential for social or political faux pas, but the growling tiger in his belly reminded him that he hadn't seen real food since his abduction beyond the edible plants or badly cooked meat from the third trial, let alone smelt or tasted any. Even still, he waited, watching everyone else serve or be served, how they used their cutlery—outside first, it all seemed familiar, like a posh dinner party. It definitely wasn't Ori's scene, but at least it wasn't as alien as dining in another dimension should have been.

Ori, after placing his napkin on his lap, tore small chunks from the fresh bread rolls with his hands. The bread was warm, flaky and savoury with a rich, yeasty flavour that wasn't unpleasant, especially given how he had mostly subsisted on the lifewell and the Greater Channelling Wand’s magic.

Eating continued while a wordless tension around the table grew. As Ori suspected, most of the guests were politely waiting for him to finish. He grudgingly placed the unfinished piece of bread on his plate before washing it down with a honey-flavoured drink that tasted like watered-down church wine. He had zero interest in leading the discussion and so he waited, eyes drinking in the sight of the large stone room alive with servants and armoured guards. He took in their appearance and countenances, no hostile or guarded gazes, few if any laughs or smiles but given the circumstances, that was understandable. They all seemed to defer to Lady Lavine, who also appeared to be the oldest by far. She caught his gaze, at which point she nodded and cleared her throat.

“So, all of us together represent the faction on Astoria's council that has decided to act,” she began.

“While we had hoped and prayed for a celestial champion at the Sovereign ranks to crush the Ravager and his horde, given our meagre resources—”

“I will not have my daughter's sacrifice labelled as 'meagre', Fitz,” Lavine interjected.

“My sincerest apologies, my Lady.”

“—what my son is trying to say is that we planned for several scenarios, ones where the rank of the summons was low, but came with one of a variety of skillsets or talents… optimal against our foe,” Elray said.

“Perhaps if you could tell us about your circumstances, then maybe…”

“—or agree to a divination,” another male voice cut in.

“Silence,” Lavine commanded, and the room stilled. “While others may claim the same, especially now that you have been summoned, we have all agreed that we are long past imposing any demands, bindings, oaths, contracts or other commitments. So, when we do ask, know that you are under no obligation to oblige, although we sincerely hope that you do. If you intend to help us that is?”

“What’s the ravager?” Ori asked, deciding to learn more about the situation and the nature of this challenge.

“A Lich,” a council member answered.

“A necromancer who corrupts Lifeforce instead of Mana,” Elray, Fitzgerald's father continued.

“It drains Lifeforce from all who oppose it. Corrupts the very Breath of the Awakened. Our champions hold back its hordes of corrupted but even at the Sovereign rank, they are unable to deal directly with the perversion as it gathers more corpses and fuels its army with the death of the land and those who seek to oppose it,” Fitzgerald continued.

“Typical necromancy is done by Black Magi using Mana to animate the dead with summoned souls from the underworld or ethereal realms. A menace and a terror on the battlefield to be sure, but they can be dealt with easily enough.”

“This Ravager consumes and twists Lifeforce, that well of power that provides most Awakened and higher entities with a barrier that shields us from mortal wounds. While our skin can be damaged and bones broken, an Awakened cannot die without their Lifeforce being fully depleted,” Elray continued. “It also improves Breath and increases lifespan if cultivated.”

“If you lose this Lifeforce, will it recover?” Ori asked.

“Slowly, over time, for most Awakened, recovering from total Lifeforce depletion could take years on their own, by which time they may suffer death by premature ageing,” Fitzgerald answered.

“The more you lose, the harder it is to recover. High White Magi or Deacons of sufficient faith can restore Vitality, but it can take days of dedicated healing for an Awakened, and far longer the higher up the ranks the patient becomes,” Elray added.

“The Ravager has somehow not only learned how to absorb Lifeforce but managed to turn it into fuel for spellcraft. Enslaving souls inside bodies turned into unliving husks with its undead armies consuming even more Lifeforce in turn. Even from the very soil they drain Lifeforce, leaving swathes of land barren for who knows how long. Despite being at a rank no higher than a Sovereign, and a human at that, this… Lich is someone we had no answer for,” Lavine said.

“The high elves ignored our entreaties, and by the time any of the expeditions to the celestial realm would realistically return, it would already be too late for Astoria and its scores of millions,” Fitzgerald continued. Ori tried and mostly succeeded at keeping his expression neutral upon hearing of the legendary fantasy race.

Elray grunted before adding, “Perhaps by then those vainglorious ass-hats would have to take this threat seriously.”

“So, what, you need me to beat this… Lich? Somehow?” Ori asked in an attempt to marshal his thoughts. For some reason, the word ‘ass-hat’ reminded him of the previous Sovereign-ranked adversary he’d come across. However this time, instead of something basic and predictable like overwhelming physical strength, he'd be up against someone who had managed to figure out a unique way of doing things with a magic he had little understanding of and no way to use.

“Perhaps, although it’s just as likely you have a special talent that would help us, perhaps otherworldly knowledge that we could use to defeat this monster in human form,” Lavine pleaded.

“It would greatly help us if you told us your story, how you came to become a summons—”

“...Divination, as a sign of trust… it would let us establish some basic facts, clear up any false expectations. It’s always a good idea,” a persistent voice added but wilted under Levine's sigh.

‘when your worth isn't determined by what you can do, but rather by what can be extracted from you…’

“I’ll agree to divination under two conditions,” Ori answered after considering Crucible's warnings. The fact that he was now in the real world outside the trial and despite the likelihood of ever returning to this time and place, his actions would have permanent consequences. He continued, his pause gathering the attention of all in the room. “First, you keep this a secret, maybe a soul oath or…”

“A soul oath!!” A voice exclaimed.

“...Non-disclosure agreement on penalty of death, on anything you see or derive from the divination for everyone involved, excluding myself. Second condition, I would also like to see the results.” Instead of hostility or contempt, something that looked awfully like eagerness and hope caused Ori to falter towards the end.

“We can certainly agree to those terms,” Elray said with the beginnings of a relieved smile.

“Agreed,” a chorus of voices followed.

“Darkon, call for the Arch Diviner and oath scrolls. In the meantime, I would be interested in learning more about your story, Ori, the mortal summons who walks The Path.”