Hidden in truth across the eye
Six paths to victory each do lie.
Well you will stride if you fear not the flight,
Follow the imprint where paths unite.
One with the beasts of wild and wise
A shift in heart will help you to rise.
Reality is not always the truth?—
Deception prevails where words do soothe.
The dawn of faith comes with new light
And glory often favors grace over might.
But navigate shadows with precision and care,
For one cannot seek that which is not there.
Find me with charm where bones and echoes reside;
It is cloaked in the day, and revealed in the night.
Only one shall reward you that which you seek,
And be wary of enemies alone you may meet.
By the midnight toll, you must claim your fate?—
Welcome, Rose Wolff, to the thirty-second Decemvirate.
It stopped, the black words gleaming like fresh ink.
A riddle.
I twisted my lips and gripped the parchment in my fist. I should’ve expected as much for a trial aboutintellect. A fight, I could prepare for. Or some sort of magical entrapment, perhaps. I was in my element when forced to think on my feet and react quickly. But riddles? Those required a patience I didn’t have. My fingers itched to act, todosomething, to feel the familiar crunch of dried herbs and nettles, the smooth curves of vials and potions and stones.
Quickly rereading the lines, two things immediately stood out: one was that this was some sort of hunt for an artifact. The second was the last part—by the midnight toll, you must claim your fate. I only had until midnight tonight to find whatever it was I was supposed to search for.
Rolling my shoulders, I grabbed my travel bag and changed into a pair of thick leggings, a tight-fitting black shirt, and my dark green vest inlaid with numerous pockets. I slipped my dagger into one of the side pockets and rummaged through my pouches of herbs for what I needed to replace in my father’s little satchel.Instinctively, I went for my normal charms—thistle for banishing spells and curses, a vial of cedarwood oil for healing, and my special amaranth stems for protection, along with several other basics. All the while, I let my mind wander through the words on the paper.
Your first trial begins when the clock strikes nine.I glanced at the clock on my wall—it was a half hour till.An artifact of blood you then must find.That didn’t sound particularly pleasant. Blood made me think of violence, but surely the trial wouldn’t be asking us to harm someone?
I had no idea what “hidden in truth across the eye” meant. But six paths to victory…there were six challengers, of course. Six different kinds of magic. Six provinces. That couldn’t be a coincidence.
Looking back at the riddle, I read it through again, taking time to focus on the longer middle section. It still read like a bunch of nonsense, but slowly, I began to pick up on certain words. Shadows and light, beasts, charms. There were references to all six of the magic types embedded in the poem. Clues for each of us, perhaps?
Only one shall reward you that which you seek.Only one what? Artifact? Clue? Impatience already burned under my skin, and it had only been a few minutes. I needed toact, not sit here rereading words on a paper. I hastily laced up my boots, grabbed the parchment, and hooked my herb pouch to my vest, comforted by its weight swinging against my hips as I strode to the door and twisted the handle.
It wouldn’t budge.
Forehead scrunching, I gripped the knob harder, pulling with more force. Still, the door refused to move.
I tugged as hard as I could, jiggling the handle and throwing my weight into it, then let out a frustrated sigh. Was this some sort of joke? Had someone locked me in? The locking mechanism on my side of the door was untouched—I turned it back and forth to be safe, but it stayed sealed shut.
