by Andrew Rowe
If I continued down the gold path, however, I was likely to continue to see orange doors. It was a safer option.
I tried the golden key in the lock for the golden door. It twisted in place with a click. I retrieved the key successfully and then touched the gem. The door slid open.
The next room was fairly straightforward; I could see three doors on the opposite side of a yawning chasm that covered two thirds of the chamber. A standard chasm challenge. The door gems on the opposite side of the room were the same colors as the ones in the current chamber, confirming the pattern.
The chasm wasn’t fathomless this time. I saw water maybe twenty feet below where I stood. There was a ladder on the opposite side of the room, leading out of the water and up to the side with the doors. I also saw two blocks with what looked like levers embedded in them. Presumably, those were switches to make a bridge across the water.
Metal poles were anchored into the walls. There were two on each side, spanning the entire chasm. They were a few inches out from the wall, and it looked like I could potentially grab onto one and walk on the other. It was probably an alternate way to traverse the gap for someone with a lot of dexterity.
Since I was able to successfully retrieve my key, it dispelled a bit of my paranoia about the keys being single-use. I still couldn’t be confident it would always be like that, but it meant I could probably do a little more testing without being overly worried about losing my keys.
Before heading into the room with the chasm, I walked to the orange door to test my hypothesis about the red key. The mist was at nearly waist level now, so I didn’t want to take much longer. The rising vapor was chilly, but didn’t burn my skin or anything, and I wasn’t feeling any obvious symptoms from it.
I turned the key in the lock — it clicked into place. Apparently, red keys and orange doors were compatible. I retrieved the key and opened the door.
The chamber in front of me was gigantic. Looking up from the doorway, I could see up hundreds of feet, with no indication of a ceiling above.
A gigantic eye stared at me from the opposite side of the room. It was perhaps fifty feet away and three times my height.
By that, I mean that the eye was three times my height. Just the eye. The monster it was attached to? Well, I couldn’t get a good look at it from my vantage point, but it was the sort of size you counted in floors, not feet.
I did see azure, shield-like scales around the eye, though. And that gave me a good idea of what I was looking at.
Seiryu, the God Serpent. Guardian of the Serpent Spire. It was looking right at me.
I stepped away from the door, allowing it to close, and rushed into the chasm room.
I never considered myself a coward. I didn’t think of myself as very brave, either. When seeing a god beast, though, my level of bravery was largely irrelevant. No sane mortal would have lingered another moment in that creature’s sight.
I only hoped it wouldn’t follow me. If it did, no walls, no teleportation to other rooms, and no degree of prayer would save me.
Inside the chasm room, I forced my eyes shut, taking deep breaths. I’d been scared before, of course, but—
Seeing the sheer scale of that thing, knowing that it could annihilate me effortlessly... It made me feel smaller. Insufficient.
What am I doing here?
I shook my head, clearing my mind. I had work to do.
I glanced around the room, getting a better look now that I was inside. The challenge seemed fairly straightforward, but first impressions could be deceptive. The floor wasn’t divided into tiles, which was good. I didn’t want to have to take a circuitous route.
I took a few steps closer, nearing the chasm itself. The water started only a few feet below where I was standing. It looked deep, but not insurmountably so; I could see a stone floor maybe around twenty or so feet down. No signs of monsters in the water, but I did see a large grate on my own side that could hide something behind it. Horrible apparitions, maybe, or treasure.
It was too easy. Maybe the room was designed to give me a chance to rest, but it didn’t fit what I knew of Selys. One of the goddess’ many titles was “The Mistress of Trials”, and it was well-known that she enjoyed providing mortals with escalating challenges. She was a gambler of a goddess, and she expected her followers to follow her example.
So, what was the gamble here? Would the obvious hand-holds on the side break away from the wall, sending me into the water below? That was underwhelming. I mean, I’d just made it through two rooms that were almost undoubtedly lethal.
I wasn’t far from the water, so I pulled the dueling cane off my belt and extended it, reaching down to tip the metal blade into the liquid below. There was no obvious reaction when it touched the surface of the pool, so I withdrew the weapon and ever-so-carefully set it down.
I opened my backpack, pressing the top of the quill against the wet metal. No telltale burning. I leaned down and sniffed, and the liquid didn’t smell like much of anything. Finally, I gingerly pressed a finger on my left hand against the liquid. Nothing. Ordinary water, as far as I could tell.
Hrm. If it wasn’t acid, what was I dealing with? Just a time limit, maybe?
The backpack was already out, so I opened the book.
When I flipped to the next page, I saw something new: fresh writing. The text appeared as I watched.
This is the Room of False Choices.
That was it. No further explanation, no detail. In a moment of frustration, I removed the quill from my bag and wrote a reply on the same page. There was plenty of blank space; each room started on a new one.
Dear Mysterious Book Entity,
I would like to inquire about more details pertaining to the Room of False Choices. Would you, perhaps, deign to provide me with insight on how best to proceed?
Yours in inquiry,
Corin of the House Cadence
I chuckled, dispelling some the lingering fear from my own mind. Absurdity had always been an excellent shield against the threat of negative emotions. I did not expect a reply.
Dear Corin,
(May I call you Corin?)
There’s no need to be sarcastic.
But it’s been so long since anyone has written me (or in me?), I suppose I can offer you a glimmer of such insight.
Provided you’re not blind, you can currently see three doors from the entry of your room. Those are options for exiting your chamber, but they are not the best ones.
As much as I am enjoying our correspondence, I must encourage you to hurry. Even as you read, your true choices begin to fade.
Yours in useful insight,
Mysterious Book Entity
I stared blankly at the now-filled text.
What...?
The reply had filled the remainder of that page and carried on to the next. I wasn’t sure what that would mean for help in the next room, but for the moment, I had bigger concerns. I stowed the book and the quill. I was, apparently, wasting time.
So, the puzzle was figuring out the real exit. Or exits.
My mind immediately went to the grate within the pool. That seemed accessible, if I felt like diving in. Which, at present, I didn’t.
I checked the walls on my side next. Were there any hidden panels, signs of secret doors?
I didn’t find anything immediately, but I did get a new idea. I tossed my backpack right back down, grabbing the book and quill and transcribing the text.
Dear Mysterious Book Entity,
I’m looking for someone named Tristan Cadence. He entered the tower five years ago and he may or may not currently be alive. I would be immensely grateful if you could tell me anything about what happened to him.
Thank you,
Corin
I stared at the book with growing nervousness for several moments before I saw the reply.
Dear Corin,
You shouldn’t be asking me about that right now.
You should be more concerned about surviving this room.
&
nbsp; Yours,
Mysterious Book Entity
I sighed, putting my things away. More time lost.
I eyed the switches on the other side. What would they do?
One of them had the switch side facing toward me, the other was facing the opposite direction. Interesting.
I heard some kind of clicking noise somewhere, and then a loud scraping that traveled across the entire right wall of the room.
Resh. I really hope that isn’t the god beast looking for me.
Okay. Calm. Let’s hit those switches.
I had enough rope to reach the other side of the chasm, but I didn’t trust myself to lasso one of the switches in a timely fashion. I chose to lift the dueling cane and aim it carefully at the switch on the right, pressing my thumb against the button.
The blast ripped forward, striking true — and snapping the top half of the switch right off. Apparently, those things weren’t very sturdy.
Three options left in my mind: a lasso; a swim; and the bars on the sides.
I went with the lasso. I didn’t trust that water in the slightest.
My first attempt to catch one of the switches missed. The second time, the rope landed in the water, soaking through. That added weight made it harder to throw, but easier to control — I managed to encircle the switch that was facing away from me. With a yank, I pulled it toward me. The water began to drain from the pool.
Which was great in one respect: the water terrified me. Less great was that a comfortable four foot drop into water was now swiftly becoming a twenty-four foot fall into a pair of broken legs.
I had a decision to make, and quickly. I dropped the rope and rushed for the nearest wall, where the hand-holds were, and grabbed on tight. Pulling hard, I determined that the holds seemed sturdy. Then I made my way across the chasm, hand over hand.
The entire room rumbled as I moved, nearly sending me tumbling into the diminishing water below. I wanted to fall sooner rather than later if I was going to; there was enough water left to serve as a cushion, but it wasn’t going to last much longer.
Of course, I didn’t want to fall at all. Even if that liquid was really water and not acid, I didn’t know what other dangers lay within. Maybe a monster would come out of that grate as soon as the water drained, or acid would rise from the floor.
One hand in front of the other. Twice, I lost the grip with one of my hands and had to haul myself back into position... but I made it across.
I walked over to the other switch, the one I had broken, and pushed the remaining half of the handle.
Back where I had made my entrance, three doors appeared with gems of black, silver, and bronze coloring.
I didn’t have the faintest idea what those meant.
My arms ached. I felt something on my head — dust or tiny rocks, crumbling from the ceiling above me. That rumbling wasn’t illusory; the room was beginning to collapse.
I turned back to the chasm. The water was nearly gone now. I had hoped one of the switches would provide a bridge, but that was clearly too much to ask for.
Did I trust my arms to carry me back across the chasm to the new doors? The book had hinted that the exits nearest me were sub-optimal solutions, but it didn’t imply they’d be deadly. I might be better off taking the “easy” route out and testing myself in the next room.
I found myself making my way over to the pit’s edge, but not to cross it. Instead, I gripped the ladder, slowly climbing down.
I needed to know what was behind that grate.
The ladder was steel, slippery from contact with the water, but embedded in the wall similar to the handrails. It was sturdy and easy to climb.
I tested a foot against the ground before dropping off the ladder entirely. The floor itself seemed solid, and I didn’t see any signs of other traps.
I made my way to the grate. It was taller than I was and blocked by iron bars. I saw a keyhole on the right side of the gate, but it wasn’t marked with any specific color, nor was there a gem like on the doors above. Beyond the bars, I could see only darkness.
I stuck the back of the quill through the bars first. It came back perfectly intact. The blackness wasn’t some kind of annihilating field, at least.
I slowly tried a finger next. There was no pain, no wetness. Nothing uncomfortable.
The floor rumbled.
This may not be a gem-studded door, but I think it qualifies as a non-standard exit.
I readied the dueling cane, stepped back, and blasted the bars off the gate. I had chosen my exit.
I stepped into the dark.
Chapter III — Limited Options
I was immensely relieved when I found myself standing in an illuminated tunnel. The walls hugged close around me. The tunnel was roughly cylindrical, and barely wider than I was.
I turned around, finding a circular door behind me. There was no obvious lock, just a clear gemstone at the center.
Interesting.
I opened the door immediately. It led into a hexagonal chamber with pristine white walls. The walls were somewhat less important than the massive pendulums swinging back and forth throughout the room.
I was barely quick enough to step back before one of them swished out of the doorway. I’d been inches away from being pulverized — the swinging spheres were solid stone, maybe four feet in diameter, and moving fast enough to pulp me.
Odd that the trap swung outside of the door... I’ve never seen one of the traps exit the boundary of a room before. What was it doing before I walked in? Did the pendulums activate when I approached, or was that sphere slamming into the door before I opened it? I didn’t hear anything hitting the wall, but it could be covered in sound-proofing runes.
Now out of the pendulum’s swinging range, I took a deep breath and looked at the room a bit more closely. Five different pendulums, and for variety, a scythe-like blade swinging near the center. Each pendulum had a different trajectory.
One more swinging in parallel on the left side of the room.
Two swinging perpendicular to the first, located on the right side of the room.
One final pendulum swinging diagonally, near the rear of the left side.
More interestingly, there were square-shaped crystalline sections on various parts of the walls, roughly four feet across. A blue one on the ceiling, a red one on the right wall, and a yellow one on the floor below where one of the pendulums were swinging.
No doors, aside from the entrance. The crystalline sections were presumably the exits.
Evaluating the speed of the swinging balls of doom, I figured I could make it out of the doorway and onto the right side of the room between swings if I really wanted to.
I really didn’t.
I stepped further away from the door, allowing it to close. The pendulum cracked against the door a moment later, and I shuddered at the sound of the impact. Fortunately, the door remained intact. I didn’t see any signs of damage on my side of it, either.
I decided I’d consider this a potential exit route, but I was interested in seeing what was at the end of the hall. Also, I was even more interested in not getting stuck in a room filled with whirling death traps.
The hall was long enough that I managed to slip my dueling cane back on my belt and unsling my backpack to remove the book before I reached the end of it. I skipped to the last section with writing.
You shouldn’t have done that.
I blinked.
I put the book away.
The path terminated at a rectangular chamber, and I could immediately see why the book had been concerned.
First, there was the dead body.
Blood pooled around a corpse in the center of the chamber, some of it looking congealed. The victim was a man around my age, dressed in fancy clothes. His most distinctive characteristic was the hole in his chest, roughly the size of my fist. It went straight through his body, as perfectly cylindrical as the hallway I emerged from.
He wasn’t the only one there, however.
>
At the back of the room were three smaller chambers constructed from some sort of transparent material, likely a type of glass or crystal.
Each chamber held a single person.
Two of them were looking at me.
The chamber on the far right held a woman in her twenties, leaning forward against the transparent wall. I barely heard the banging; something seemed to be dampening the sound. She wore garb I’d associate with a traveling merchant: a lot of pouches; a couple necklaces; and heavy boots and gloves. From her dark brown skin, I assumed she was Caelish. After a moment, she knocked on the wall, frowning at me.
The central chamber held a black-haired man wearing a silver eye mask. The exposed section on the bottom of his face was light skinned and clean shaven, the latter point implying that he was either relatively young or hadn’t been in the cell for very long. He leaned against the back wall of the chamber, his arms folded. The hint of a long sheathed weapon, most likely a sword, was visible beneath his ornate overcoat.
My heart stopped for an instant when I looked at him. The masked man looked almost like my brother.
Tristan had seemed taller, but I’d been twelve years old when he’d left. Maybe that was just my memories playing a trick.
Their weight and build were about right. The figure in the cell looked a bit more athletic, but five years was a long time to potentially put on some muscle.
His hair was too dark, too long, but that could be explained by hair dye and the passage of time.
His skin was too light, but maybe he was sick from all this time in a cell...
I shook my head. The similarities were enough to trigger painful memories, but the differences were too pronounced. I wanted it to be my brother in there, but it wasn’t him. I’d have to find Tristan later.
On the far left was another prone figure, a boy. He looked a few years younger than me. His skin was even darker than the young woman’s, nearly pitch black. His head was shaved, and he had an extensive web-like tattoo in white ink across his forehead. No pool of blood around him, fortunately.