Luckborn

"Halt! The Scales of Justice command it!"

Otter whirled around. Standing at the entrance to the gallery stood a man clad in gleaming white robes, a silver sash draped across his shoulders. The symbol of Caelum—a set of balanced scales over a rising sun—was stitched across his chest, catching the fractured light like burnished steel. Behind him stood two armored soldiers.

The man stepped forward, boots echoing on the marble floor. "By the authority of the Church of Caelum," he said, voice calm and cold, "you are commanded to turn aside from this place. I am Marcus, Divine Conduit and servant of the divine Order."

Jasper drew his sword half from its scabbard. "You've got the wrong people."

Marcus's eyes swept across them, impassive until they landed on Otter. There, his gaze lingered. "No. I don't."

Erin moved to Otter's side, bow in hand. "Why are you here?"

Marcus folded his hands before him, almost in prayer. "To prevent what should not be. You stand in a tomb of sins past. A graveyard of ambition. You must let the dead lie."

Otter shook his head. "Why? What do you know?"

Marcus sighed and bowed his head. "I am one of the few who knows the truth.—knowledge passed down from generation to generation. Before the Classes were limited, the world was divided by power unchecked. The System offered countless paths—dozens of factions, strange abilities, twisted ambitions. And with every new Class born, another war ignited. Men believed themselves gods. Some even summoned the Kaosborn and bound them—twisting the System to serve the void. What followed was not progress. It was slaughter. Tens of thousands perished. Cities were razed. Entire cultures extinguished. The gods sealed those pathways for a reason."

Sage stepped forward, voice quiet but firm. "Then why are the Kaosborn returning now? If this order is so perfect?"

Marcus's jaw tightened. "Because faith has waned. The boundaries have been tested by those who seek to meddle in what was forbidden. The System cannot shield us if we abandon its constraints."

"We're not abandoning anything," Erin snapped. "We're trying to survive."

Otter took a step closer to Marcus. "We've seen what's coming. The Kaosborn are getting smarter. Coordinated. Emrys Gale warned of this, warned that we would not be able to defeat them this time with such limitations."

Marcus turned fully to him, eyes like winter ice. "Emrys Gale was a faithless fool. This uprising is paltry compared to the Kaos Wars. If you continue down this path, you will unleash a fate far worse than a few attacks. You are not saviors. You are children juggling torches in an oil cellar."

A heavy silence settled over the chamber as the weight of Marcus' words settled over them.

Otter had learned a bit about the Kaos Wars from Quisling. His lessons confirmed the Kaos Wars had been awful, wiping out entire civilizations, but there was never any mention of other Classes being to blame. Centuries of revised history could explain that, though. And yet, there was something bugging him about Marcus's whole line of thinking.

After a moment of careful thought, Otter spoke. "How do you know this? I have researched this topic for months and found only one mention of the possibility of hidden Classes. And suddenly you show up, confirming what I had only guessed at, and speaking as if you had first-hand knowledge."

Marcus smiled. "There is much secret knowledge kept by my order. Knowledge of truths lost over time. I am glad I caught you before you made a horrible mistake. Return to the surface with me and we can discuss all of this in much greater depth."

Otter smiled back, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're right. I do care. But there's a burr in my sock that I can't shake. You showing up has confirmed the existence of two things: one, there are hidden Classes; two, there is a way to restore access to them. If those two things are true, I am inclined to believe what I learned from Emrys Gale's journal—that path to restoration was created by the gods themselves. Not by Caleum, but by Elarion and Altheris. That's two versus one against the wisdom of the restriction. I like those odds. So why don't you run along and leave us alone."

"Then you are already lost." Marcus turned to his soldiers. "Take them. Alive if possible."

The soldiers advanced, the steel of their swords glinting in the torchlight.

Both Jasper and Liora drew their blades and stepped forward. The soldiers hesitated, appraising their quarry. Levi melted into the shadows and stepped toward an unturned statue. Otter saw the movement and knew his plan immediately.

"Step aside!" Otter told Jasper and Liora. "This isn't your fight."

They shot him an incredulous look.

Marcus took a step forward behind his soldiers.

"I'm serious. If these men wish to stand before the furious flames of Elarion's wrath, then so be it. Do not stand in the way."

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Jasper and Liora shared a look, then ran to take cover behind two statues.

In that split-second, Erin drew her bow and loosed an arrow at the soldiers. It glanced harmlessly off a shield, but provided the distraction Levi needed. With all the strength in his slender frame, he heaved on an eyeless statue, turning it to face the wall.

A pulse of heat roared through the room.

WHOOOOOSH!

A jet of fire erupted from the ceiling, engulfing the soldiers. They screamed as flames consumed their capes and their flesh beneath sizzled. Marcus staggered backward, robes ablaze, as he threw up a hand and muttered a prayer. A shimmering barrier formed around him, absorbing much of the heat, but his face twisted in agony as the inferno could not be held at bay entirely.

Otter stared in horror, unable to move.

When the gout of flame subsided, Jasper dashed to the final statue and turned it. When he did, the torch on the ceiling flared brighter, and the entire chamber shuddered.

From the smooth stone panel across the room, a thin seam of light appeared—then widened.

A section of wall slowly slid inward, and a hiss of air escaped as the pressure equalized, revealing a passage beyond. Whatever lay beyond had been sealed in for who knows how long.

There was no time to think. Marcus was rising, chanting the words of another spell.

Erin grabbed Otter by the sleeve and yanked him into action. The others were already running for the tunnel opening. It was small, only three feet by three feet. They would have to crawl through.

Levi leapt in head first. Erin, who was still half-dragging Otter across the floor, was next. She let go of him and scrambled into the tunnel. Jasper grabbed Otter and shoved him in.

Otter heard Marcus's voice rising behind him as he completed his prayer and a flash of light briefly lit up the tunnel, but he couldn't tell what happened. Then he heard Milo chant an incantation in response.

The crawl was short—twenty feet, maybe less—but the walls pressed close, and the chaos behind him made it hard to think. Those men had died. Because of him. Not because he failed to save them, but because he and Levi had sprung a trap. He hadn't meant for them to die. Had he?

Then, Otter reached the end of the tunnel and pulled himself through. He emerged into a wide, circular chamber. The floor was smooth and seamless, made of dark stone that reflected the light of their lanterns dimly. The ceiling curved into a low dome, and the walls were so polished they might have been mirrors—only, they reflected nothing.

At the center of the room stood a raised platform, and upon it, a tall silver mirror. Its surface was dark, not reflective but void-like, swallowing the lantern light entirely.

He had only enough time to take it all in before the rest of his group scrambled out of the tunnel behind him. When they were all through, he felt a ripple in the air. He watched in awe as the stone around the tunnel opening seemed to melt, dripping down and reforming itself, and hardening until there was no trace of the tunnel left.

He ran his hand along the smooth stone, feeling for any hint of a seam, but found nothing. "Is everyone okay?" he finally asked, remembering Marcus had cast some sort of spell.

"Sage got hit with something," Milo said. "Some kind of divine blast. It knocked her out, but she's breathing. Liora had to drag her through the tunn—wait, where's the tunnel?"

"Gone." Otter said. "Maybe another trap, but I think we're safe for the moment."

Milo shifted uneasily.

Erin was tending to Sage, whose eyes were just now fluttering open. The Divine Conduit groaned, but got to a sitting position. "First time I've been hit with a spell like that. Not gonna lie. It wasn't fun. Where are we?"

Erin shrugged, but moved aside so she could get a look around.

"What kind of mirror doesn't reflect anything?" Sage asked.

"A broken one," Levi muttered. "Or cursed."

Otter stepped forward, the compass thumping gently against his chest. The moment his foot touched the platform's edge, whispering voices burst into the air like a sudden wind.

At first, they were faint—flickers of sound at the edge of hearing. But they grew louder quickly. Voices layered atop one another. Old voices. Young. Male, female, something in-between. They spoke in dozens of tongues. Some were pleading. Some chanting. Some merely breathing words that seemed like names or places.

Sage winced, clutching the sides of her head. "What is that?"

"It's coming from everywhere," Liora said, eyes darting.

Otter looked down at the compass in his hand. "No, it's coming from this."

The compass glowed brighter. The whispers rose in pitch and speed until they filled the chamber with a deafening cacophony. The air trembled. The stone beneath them shuddered, and the mirror began to glow faintly from within, like light beneath thick water. The compass pointed directly at the mirror.

Otter took another step closer.

The compass throbbed, and the voices reached another level. They were no longer whispers, but shouts and cries filled with ecstasy and agony, joy and terror. It was maddening. Otter had to do something to make them stop. He looked wildly around the room, but his gaze kept being drawn back to the mirror, like something was pulling him toward it.

Although his skin crawled at the thought of being near it, he stepped close and touched the surface of the mirror. Around him, he could feel the air swirl, the voices caught up in it as they were sucked into the mirror like a drain. It happened fast, within three heartbeats. One second, his ears were being blasted. The next, the voices were swallowed up.

The glow within the mirror surged, silver and pale and alive. The glass rippled outward, and from its heart, a shape emerged. A figure, half-formed from smoke and memory, hovered above the platform, faceless and cloaked in the same void-black as the mirror's surface, tendrils of light curling from its edges like breath in cold air.

Otter felt fear seize his insides with an icy grip. What the hell had he just done?

Then the spirit turned toward Otter and spoke.

Its voice was a thousand voices, layered and echoing, an amalgamation of all it had swallowed:

"Bearer of the compass. Hear me well. The seal is cracked. The old paths stir. But the path is not yet clear."

Otter stepped back instinctively, but the spirit drifted forward in perfect stillness.

"What has been done may be undone, but time moves only forward, as does your path."

Otter opened his mouth to speak, but the shadow spirit raised a hand, glowing like molten silver.

"Your question will come in time. One question. One answer. But be warned. To restore what once was, may be your undoing. Or your salvation."

And then it dissolved—collapsing inward, a swirl of light and whisper, pulled back into the mirror and was gone.

The silence that followed was complete. Not just quiet, but empty.

The mirror faded to black once more. The compass cooled against Otter's chest.

Jasper let out a slow breath. "That was intense."

"No," Otter said softly. "That was ominous."