Cawing seagulls, ocean tides and the schee schee of a sweeping broom were the only sounds that occupied the pier as a young man tended to his chores. "Young man" was not quite the right way to describe him, however; verging on the cusp of adulthood but still within the reins of adolescence, he displayed that awkward mix of hardened masculinity and delicate boyishness. With auburn eyes and ash brown hair, it was possible that some people might have considered him handsome, but he was otherwise unremarkable when compared to the other boys in his village. He whistled quietly to himself as he swept the scraps off the pier and into the Inner Sea.

The divine voice of Avechna the Avenger reverberated across the firmament, "The challenge of Chaos will now begin!"

The young man looked up from his menial task and stared at the sky. Talk of the ascension trials had gone around his village for several months, replacing the typical gossip about who was dating who. Yet for all the interest the Delportians feigned over the subject, their words came out flat and hollow. It had been a long time since anyone from Delport ventured to the Portal of Fate. Life in the village had always been the same, pausing only whenever the hemp wars reached their peak, but even those had begun to take on a predictable rhythm of their own. The young man sighed and continued with his sweeping.

In the distance, a hazy figure came into view seemingly from the sea, gliding over the water as if it were solid. As the figure approached, the young man could see the golden robes that covered his body and hooded his face and the rune-etched staff he carried in his hands. The young man's eyes lit up with excitement: he had seen this hooded man with the steel grey eyes several times before, the first being when he was just a little rascal.

There were many outsiders who came to the village but he remembered this one in particular because each time he visited the fish market, he would ruffle Arthur's hair and slip a sweet candy into his hands. The other rascals liked to follow the stranger around, and afterwards they'd all play at pretending to be mages and guardians. However, that was several years ago. Now that the young man was no longer a little boy, the hooded man didn't seem to recognize him anymore and the grown boy never mustered up the courage to approach him.

The man with the grey eyes stepped onto the pier, completely dry, and proceeded to walk past the fish market towards Madame Sylvie's manor. The young man looked in the direction of this familiar stranger and smiled, but he may as well have been smiling at a wall.

An overpoweringly strong female voice shouted across the heavens, "Oh purple hamster, where art thou?"

A chorus of other powerful voices echoed after her, laughing and joking, sometimes venomously. The young man continued to sweep, though the spot he was sweeping at had already been cleared several sweeps ago. How long had it been since he started? Time sometimes felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

"Mon petit nephew! Can you come inside and help skin these fishes pour moi?" a husky woman's voice called out from a shop in the fish market.

"Oui auntie Girard, I'll be right here," the young man replied meekly. He put away his broom and walked to the shop, settling down on a rickety stool. With deft motions he began to skin the helpless fishes and cast them aside in a bucket, their tails still twitching.

Outside, the riotous shouting continued amidst the sound of lapping waves. The sun began to make its descent towards the horizon and coloured the sky orange. The young man inhaled deeply, the familiar scent of sea salt and fish filling his lungs.

A squeak came from outside the door, tiny feet scratching against floorboards. Was it a rat? The young man craned his neck but saw nothing. It could have been a seagull - but seagulls don't make noises like that.

The scurrying came again and this time something darted into the shop and hid between the barrels of fish. The young man stood up and walked over to investigate, but as he approached a painful throbbing spread through his head and he fell back, clutching at his face. Did he stand up too fast?

"Auntie Girard?" the young man called out, but she had left the shop already.

From the shadows in the crevices and spaces between the barrels, the young man could barely make out two glowing eyes – two tiny, mischievous eyes. The thing darted back into the shadows and scampered excitedly around the shop.

"A rat!" the young man shouted, and he began to scramble frantically after the tiny intruder.

Jars tipped over and chairs were knocked down as the two played a game of cat and mouse. The young man groaned as he knocked his head against the tables a few times. At last, covered in fish scales from head to toe, he decided to stop running and crouched silently by one of the barrels, holding his breath and waiting in anticipation.

"Hah!" With a triumphant yell, the young man lunged at the table and caught the furry creature as it ran for the door. Beaming, he looked down at his prize but before he could react he was stunned, literally, by the bizarre thing blinking back at him with beady little eyes. This was no rat. What sat bunched up happily in his hands was, in fact, a hamster: a fluffy, purple hamster.

Suddenly, a sound like a stampeding herd arose at the edge of the village and drew near with frightening frenzy.

The divine voice of Avechna the Avenger resonated across the firmament once more, "The challenge of chaos has now ended! Who holds the purple hamster?"

A wave of gasps sounded from behind and the young man turned around to see a throng of panting adventurers at the door. They stared, jaw slacked.

"Ohh! Ohh! What is going on?" Auntie Girard cried as she rushed into the shop, pushing aside the onlookers. "Mon dieu! What is that?"

She clamped her hands over her mouth and stared at the hamster. "Oh dear, that is not yours! Quickly, throw it away!"

The young man could not move his body. A cacophony of voices joined in the yelling and filled his ears with a deafening drone, and his vision began to blur...

"This wasn't in the plan, sister dearest. Did you screw up again?" a young woman's voice sounded in the dark.

"Don't look at me Clotho, I'm in charge of the cutting, not the measuring and weaving. Lachesis must have tangled the threads again," croaked an old crone from somewhere in the room.

"Again? What are you on? This has never happened before," a stern female voice replied defiantly.

"So what should we do? Unravel the tapestry and fix the anomaly?" asked Clotho.

"And then we should kill him to make sure it doesn't happen again," added Atropos eagerly.

"Now sister, as much as you like to play with your shears and pretend you're important, there is no need to kill him. In fact, there is no reason to do anything at all."

"What, are you suggesting we let this be? But he is... well, it is not part of the plan!"

"To be accurate, it is not part of the weave, but who is to say it is not part of the plan? Mortals have always been fickle and unpredictable. Is it not our duty to observe and record, both the expected and the unexpected?" questioned Lachesis.

"Lachesis makes a good point. I admit that I am both intrigued and curious," said Clotho softly.

"Hmph!" snorted Atropos. Then she turned to face the young man, still sprawled on the floor with his hands cupped around nothing, face frozen with fear. "Boy, what is your name?"

"My... name?" he croaked.

"Did you lose your brain along with your senses when knocked your head back there? Your name! That word other people use to call you!"

"My name is..."

The young man hesitated.

"Don't be afraid, tell us your name," cooed Clotho.

"My name is... Arthur," he muttered at last, and suddenly great gusts of wind swept through the room as if pulling everything into a hungry vacuum.

"Remember who you are, Arthur!" the three disembodied voices chanted in unison. "Fate has marked you today. You will either find great success, or tremendous tragedy. But heed our warning: should you meet an untimely demise, we cannot save you. You are one and alone. Fate have mercy on your soul!"

When Arthur came to and emerged from the darkness, he opened his eyes to find the crowd of adventurers still hovering above him, shouting as loudly as before. Many had their hands thrust in front of Arthur, begging him to give up his prized possession. Arthur looked down to see the purple hamster still clutched in his hands, looking rather dumbfounded itself.

The divine voice of Avechna, the Avenger reverberated powerfully, "We have a winner! Congratulations to... who? Uh… to Arthur Girard of Delport, bearer of the Medallion of Chaos!"

With a collective sigh the adventurers ceased their begging, but their disappointment was short lived for no sooner had they turned their attention from Arthur did they begin to argue and shove each other. Words turned to clashing steel turned to buzzing bolts of energy, and soon the entire street was filled with fighting and brawling. Arthur took advantage of the situation and snuck out back to his home.

The sun had long set when he returned to his room and immediately collapsed on the bed. What just happened? Was it a dream? With the voices of the Fate Sisters still reverberating in his head, Arthur tossed and turned but couldn't fall asleep right away.

Some time later, a soothing glow began to seep into his room like warm bath water. Slowly it covered everything until every last spot on the walls and floors became a luminescent, uniform white. A small spark appeared by the small window next to his bed, no more than a mere pinprick at first but as it floated towards the centre of the room it stretched and expanded like a moth emerging from its cocoon. At last it took on the form of an ephemeral being composed entirely of light: soft, gentle, and pure.

"Arthur, what is it that you wish to do in this life?" it asked in a feminine, echoing voice.

Arthur found himself paralyzed in his own bed, unable to move or get up, but he did not fear. Instead he replied calmly, as if speaking to an old acquaintance: "I want to see the world. I want to see the stories my maman and papa used to tell me. I want to live and create stories of my own. This is... what I've always wanted."

The being had no discernable features to show of, but Arthur could still feel its gentle smile upon his face.

"Then go out and seek the world. Be brave, true, and honest, but always remember where you came from."

The being glided over to Arthur and touched him softly between his eyes.

"Tread carefully, for one misstep can extinguish the light you hold just as quickly as it came to be."

Arthur allowed the light to wash over him in warm rivulets. When he awoke the next morning, his room was in the same condition as it was the previous night without any apparent sign of intrusion. He lifted a finger to his forehead to feel the spot where the being had touched him, but all he felt was skin and sweat.

Going through a sparse closet, Arthur began to fold and pack his belongings into a rough canvas bag. Three cotton tunics, two pairs of trousers, and a worn jacket passed down from his father were all he had. He held the jacket in his hand and reminisced silently, fond images playing through his mind that were privy only to him, then shook his head sadly as he draped it over his shoulders and threw the bag across his back.

Auntie Girard was already kneading dough in the kitchen when Arthur made his way out. As if reading his thoughts, she didn't ask many questions and instead embraced Arthur warmly and wished him well on his journey, but not before packing several biscuits and salted fish sticks into his bag. She watched with teary eyes just as a mother would, as her nephew walked down the only road in Delport and towards a new life.

-*-

On that day, Arthur journeyed to the nearby city of Celest. He felt that this was where he was meant to go, a city where he could find bravery, truth and honour. To his surprise, the Celestians were happy to receive him, almost eager. He was quickly enrolled within the guild of Paladins and taught the ways of the Light and the sword while the Ascension Trials came to an end and a True Ascendant was raised in the city of Gaudiguch (because of his novice status, Arthur was exempt from participating in the Trials this time). He learned all about the Holy Supernals and the aspects they represented, and came to think of himself as a follower of the Light too. He was squired to a noble knight and advanced easily in his guild, enjoying many of the laborious tasks that were thrown his way. Compared to how things were in Delport, Arthur would have gladly written any number of essays, taken whatever amount of examinations and served in all the stations requested of him. His guildmates even gave him a teasing nickname, "Le Hamster", but he wore it proudly. Nonetheless, he never shared with the others his strange encounters with the Fate Sisters and the being of light, lest they find a reason to shun him or treat him with suspicion. He never even confessed to the priests during the weekly service at the Deep Blue Cathedral.

But Arthur had another motive as well. He wanted to find the hooded man, because he could not shake off the feeling that despite his outward obliviousness he still had some part in making all of this happen. He had so many questions to ask, and now that Arthur was a respectable Paladin and citizen of Celest, he hoped that the man would talk to him at last. Based on his description of him, however, nobody he spoke to had a good idea of who the stranger might be.

After years of training, humble devotion to the Supernals, defending Celestia and participating in political conquests (which Arthur always felt a bit odd doing, no matter how many times he'd been through it), the time for the Ascension Trials came again. This time, Crazen the Greedy had managed to find a way to manipulate some foolish mortals with temptations of wealth and power and then went on to wreak apocalyptic havoc across the Basin, only to be stopped in the nick of time but at the cost of weakening the seals that held Kethuru at bay. Hundreds of mortals, over half of them Demigods, enthusiastically lined up from each city and commune to participate in the gruelling challenges that lay ahead. Arthur, still holding his Medallion of Chaos from the previous Trials, also signed up for two challenges: War and Justice.

One by one the victors emerged, sometimes to great cheering and other times to much chagrin and murmuring. The medallions were spread more or less evenly among the cities and communes with no one organization claiming dominance over the others, a rare occurrence. When it came to the challenge of War, Arthur's team had made it to the final round but was eliminated by a brutal combination from Hallifax, where it felt like they were locked in a perpetual state of sluggishness. Shrugging off this disappointment, the city still had two more challenges to look forward to, those of Harmony and Justice. Harmony came down to a close race between Serenwilde and Magnagora, but in the end it was the northern commune that triumphed. At last, with eight challenges completed, all hopes were resting on the final trial, which was taking place at the top of Avechna's Peak.

A rumbling thunderstorm brewed overhead, adding much dramatic effect to the already tense scene. Avechna himself presided over the tournament, taking down the names of the eager debaters who tried their best to look stern or indifferent. After a painful wait, the matches were made and Arthur discovered that his first opponent would be a young Harbinger from Glomdoring.

"Good luck to you, sir," Arthur tried to say with a faint smile.

The diminutive shadowsinger faeling grunted noncommittally.

"Are the participants ready?" Avechna's voice boomed over them.

Everyone nodded, and then the challenge began.

The faeling started off by quickly spinning forth a passionate diatribe against the teachings of the Holy Supernals, but Arthur had prepared a cautious mindset and was well equipped to debunk his argument. Heated words were traded back and forth, but in what seemed like no time at all the faeling threw up his arms in exasperation and stalked away red-faced (or more like a dark burgundy, in his case). Having won his first round, Arthur breathed a sigh of relief and sat down on a stone to observe the other matches. The air was filled with raucous shouting punctuated by the occasional uproar, sometimes laughter too. Soon the second round had come and passed, and then the third, fourth, and fifth. Arthur eased through all of his matches as the bets being made in his favour quickly started to pile up, taking even him by surprise. He supposed that all those years of being harangued by the heroes and heroines of the Basin during the hemp wars were finally paying off, as debating came as naturally to him as swimming was to an otter.

The storm had finally ended and a stifling silence permeated the mountaintop. The defeated challengers stood around Avechna, waiting to hear the names of the final participants. Arthur was called forth, followed by an Illuminati from Gaudiguch.

The illuminated dracnari had a wild look in her eyes, which regarded Arthur with irises of ever-shifting hues. It was a look that could have made even the hardiest men feel ill at ease. Arthur did not attempt to wish her luck or any well words, but instead avoided her gaze and looked down at the ground.

"Are the participants ready?" questioned Avechna in a voice that could bring down avalanches. "Then begin."

This time Arthur got the first move by weaving a dogmatic argument about the nature of order and chaos and how the universe is slowly moving towards the former, but the dracnari saw right through it and tore apart his hypothesis. Arthur winced but did not let down, shifting to the defensive as he carefully listened to his opponent's claims and carefully refuted them or at least matched her points. On occasion she would suddenly blurt out wildly at him, causing him to feel rushed or befuddled, though fortunately he carried an enchanted locket that helped clear his mind again. He thanked the Queen of Celest under his breath for this gift.

To and fro the battle of wits went, neither side gaining a considerable advantage. People from all over the Basin were watching the two of them now, and the bookkeepers were having an especially good time.

Thus far Arthur had kept his focus away from the Illuminati's intense gaze, but by chance he found himself directing his eyes towards her when the debate moved onto the subject of cross-species copulation. Their eyes locked for just an instant and Arthur could feel her peering deep into his head, boring into his soul with those eerie rainbow irises, seeing right through to his true self.

And then she gasped, her face frozen in a rictus of horror as she stumbled backwards, mouth hanging open.

Arthur seized this opportunity and easily finished off the debate while she stood looking dumbfounded.

The divine voice of Avechna the Avenger reverberated across the firmament, "Congratulations to Arthur Girard, winner of the challenge of Justice!"

Arthur's friends and peers came up to congratulate him and pat him heartily on the back. He watched his defeated opponent return to her fellow Gaudiguchians, trembling and shaking her head, refusing to speak to anyone about what she saw. Arthur watched with puzzlement but no one else seemed to notice. They were all admiring and reaching out to touch the newly formed treasure that hung about his neck.

That night Arthur had a restless sleep, not unlike the time he returned home with the Medallion of Chaos. Nobody came to visit him though, and there were no strange dreams to recall in the morning. Sitting up in his bed, he absently traced a finger along the outline of the open hand on his Medallion of Justice, not even flinching when the hand suddenly bobbed up and down. The final trial was to take place in six months time, when a new True Ascendant would rise and banish Kethuru to his near eternal prison again. It would be dangerous, no doubt, and so far Arthur had managed to stay alive while others around him were being killed but still coming back to this world. He was a very cautious person, always avoiding getting into the thickest battles but at the cost of being appointed to stand by at the sides or play a support role. Now, he wasn't sure if all would go so smoothly. And to add to all that, so many questions still remained: who was the hooded man? Who was the being of light?

The thought suddenly hit him like a speeding ram. It seemed so obvious, and to think that she had been right under (or above) his nose this whole time. Who else in the Basin or the higher planes fit the description so perfectly? He had seen her before but never put two and two together. It made so much sense now! Arthur wanted to laugh at himself and quickly gathered up his things in preparation for a visit to Elohora, Lady of the Eternal Light.

Many thoughts raced through Arthur's head as he walked along the brilliant corridor leading to Elohora's chamber. He was still mumbling to himself when he nearly bumped into one of the archangels guarding the Lady in her room. Embarrassed, he quickly went down to one knee and bowed his head.

"M'Lady," said Arthur.

"Be at peace, Arthur, for the Light surrounds you," said Elohora soothingly.

"I have come to speak to you about something... important." Arthur looked up to meet Elohora's gentle gaze.

"Our greatest enemies are the Demon Lords of Nil. They were once Supernals like ourselves but the Taint has twisted them terribly. Although their ess- " she began, but then paused upon seeing the curious look on Arthur's face. "No, that is not why you have come here to seek my counsel, is it? What troubles you so, brave Paladin?"

"I wanted to speak about that time in Delport... do you remember?" asked Arthur, abashed.

A slight look of perplexity crept across Elohora's face. She frowned and said: "I am sorry, little one. What happened in Delport?"

Arthur gulped and tried to explain as best he could. "You came to me in a dream, or was it real? I'm not sure. You told me to see the world, after I had claimed, not on purpose, the Seal of Chaos. You were in my room, everything was bright, and there was light everywhere. The being of light... that was you, wasn't it?"

There was a short pause as Elohora attempted to recall this series of events. Her brow appeared to be furrowed, but it was very difficult to see beyond all the shine.

"My room was small, timber walls, one bed, a square table, and a narrow closet," suggested Arthur hopefully.

Elohora put a finger to her lips.

"You came in through the window, as a tiny pinprick of light?"

Elohora crossed her arms and thought about it, but then shook her head.

"You touched me on my forehead, right here," said Arthur as he tapped at a spot between his eyes.

Elohora pondered this carefully but her expression still did not brighten. Finally she said:

"I do recall an odd occurrence during the last Ascension Trials, but I do not believe I had left Celestia at that time to visit any mortals, in dream or in person. I am sorry, Arthur, but that was not me." Elohora frowned sadly, and then added with a cautious tone: "Not every light is the same as the Light. Be wary of where you step, gentle one."

Arthur did not have any more questions, too disheartened that the pieces did not fit in the way he was certain they would. He thanked the Lady of Eternal Light graciously and returned to his guildhall, where he distracted himself and took out some of his frustrations in the training yard. He thought he was so close to the answer, but now he was back at square one.

The next few months passed by in a blur. Before he knew it, the final Trial was beginning; the epic battle for the Staff of Ascension. Everyone in Celest was teeming with excitement. Holy priests went around blessing all of the combatants who would be travelling to the astral plane, there to support the Cantor who bore the Medallion of Life, with Arthur as the second option should anything impair the bard's odds of winning. As usual, shouts were exchanged across the Basin as the cities and communes competed in a verbal exchange of who could come up with the best mother-related insult.

"Are you nervous?" asked a smiling Aquamancer who came up to Arthur as he was sharpening his sword.

"Yes, it would be foolish not to be," answered Arthur, who kept on honing the fine steel of his blade.

"What do you plan to do if you win the Staff?" she continued questioning, going over to sit beside him.

"Well, I guess I would ascend and then devote the rest of my life to the protection of this city. Keep doing what I've always been doing." Arthur hadn't really considered this prospect yet. He stopped his sharpening.

"You're a dreamweaver, right? What do you know about dreams?" asked Arthur.

"They happen when you go to sleep," she giggled. "What do you want to know about them?"

Arthur had been keeping his secret to himself all this time, but he thought that if there was ever a time to share it with someone, it would be now.

"Do you think that a dream could be a message from... higher up? Like from the half-formed, the Gods, or even some greater being?"

"That is an interesting question," the Aquamancer remarked with a ponderous pout. "Dreams certainly do carry meaning, it is an art that was perfected by Vestera and taught to us after the Coming of Estarra. The real difficulty lies in interpreting them though, and as many people have met their doom from carelessly following these dreams as those who have found glory." She regarded Arthur with curious eyes.

"I had a dream once that felt very real. So real in fact that I thought it was an actual visit from Lady Elohora, telling me to come to Celest. But when I sought to find the cause of it, she denied ever having visiting me." Arthur stared blankly in front of himself, remembering those visions in his head.

The Aquamancer fidgeted with her coral staff, thinking for a long while. Finally she spoke up: "You know, sometimes dreams don't mean anything at all. They might just be a jumble of images and sounds and memories floating around in our heads, and in the end it's us who puts meaning in them, not the other way around." She shrugged, seeming content with this answer.

"Don't mean anything at all?" The possibility had never occurred to Arthur, and he had a sudden feeling of dread that he had been chasing a fanciful idea this whole time. "How do you know when they do or don't?"

"A good indicator is when other people have the same dream as you. Then you know something's going on. But other than that, there's almost no way to be sure!" She beamed, as if it was all one big joke, and then just as quickly she had a solemn and pensive look on her face. "There's no way to be sure..."

They both sat in silence for a moment. "I should better go and get ready. Good luck to you, Arthur," said the Aquamancer, who hurried off without putting back on her smile.

The divine voice of Avechna the Avenger reverberated across the firmament, "The final trial for the Staff of Ascension will soon begin."

All the able-bodied citizens of Celest swept up to the higher planes to Celestia where they stood waiting for the signal from Avechna. Arthur was distracted, not paying attention to the commands and instructions being shouted before him. He did not remember transversing to the astral plane with his party, or destroying the endless masses of eyeballs and tentacles with his Seal of Justice. He vaguely recalled striking down some of his foes and being pulled away in the nick of time from an attempted decapitation. He kept wondering if the mission he believed he had been given was really any mission at all; if what the Fate Sisters told him was true or if that was a mere dream as well.

The Staff exchanged hands several times, always accompanied by several bloody encounters and a handful of deaths. Arthur had not yet had a chance to hold it, since it would draw enormous attention to himself. But why not? What was stopping him now? If he was slain, his citymates would be able to bring him back. Those were just dreams, he told himself, no more than coincidence.

Snapping back to reality, Arthur scanned the astral sphere he was standing on and discerned that it was Virgo, and the Staff, along with everyone else, was currently on Saggitarius. Bright lights flashed in the distance as all the elements of nature were being channelled and strewn about, a deafening chorus of noise filled the air as every present bard attempted to outsing the other, and the eyeballs and bodily appendages kept climbing out of their rifts to wreak messy havoc. There was a loudly uttered "Doh!" like the sound of someone committing a grave mistake, and suddenly the Staff shimmered into the space before Arthur. Coincidence? he thought as he reached out to grab it.

Immense power coursed through Arthur's body and he felt like he might be ripped apart. The Staff finally settled in his hand as it became adjusted to him, pulsing with a lifeforce of its own. Arthur's eyes darted across the room and he quickly dashed towards the direction of Capricorn, away from the oncoming stampede of aspiring Ascendants. He panted with excitement, feeling a rush of vitality as such that he hadn't felt before. There loomed the astral manifestation of the Megalith of Doom ahead. He was going to run past it to the sphere of Taurus to rejoin his comrades. However, a figure rose out of the earth and stood in his way.

Arthur stopped. Golden robes, a rune-etched staff, and squinting closely, steel grey eyes. He had found him! The hooded man, the man with the grey eyes, the man with the candies. He wanted to thank him and tell him about everything that had happened up until now, to let him know how much he admired him when he was a little boy and dreamed of venturing out into the Basin. Arthur stepped forward but the ground gave way and he tripped and landed on his face.

"The staff, give it here, boy." The hooded man loomed over Arthur and extended a hand expectantly. Stonewalls rose all around him and a raging dust storm began to cover the area. Arthur saw sparkling motes of light swirl in the air as someone attempted to travel to his location, but the man dropped a monolith sigil before the link could be made.

"Sir. Don't you recognize me, sir? You used to often visit my auntie's fish stall in Delport, years ago when I was still a little rascal." Arthur looked up hopefully at the man. "You gave candies to the children, and afterwards we would play and pretend to be mages, just as you are, sir."

The man had a quizzical look. He peered down hard at Arthur. "Do you know who I am, boy?" he asked in tones of gravel and smoke.

Arthur blushed, somewhat embarrassed. "You were the kind-hearted hooded man."

The man guffawed, pulled back his hood and waved a hand over his face. In an instant the man was no longer a man anymore, but rather he was a skeletal lich with empty eyes and a gaunt, ghastly frame. The golden colour seeped from his robes, leaving behind an inky midnight black. Arthur looked on in shock.

"You are no longer a little rascal but almost a man grown, and your tale is infamous across the Basin. But I was never who you thought I was. That is the sad reality of this world, boy," he said in deep, dreadful tones.

"But, why then..." Words failed him as cold realization washed over Arthur. The stonewalls surrounding them began to shake and crack as the voices of his allies could be heard yelling from the other side.

"I gave you those candies all those years ago because I wanted to. Call it an old habit. But that does not change who I am now." The lich drew closer until his cold breath could be felt on Arthur's face. "If you believe that those who show you kindness are kind-hearted, that those who speak sweet words are of goodly dispositions, or that those who take up the shield and sword are doing so for the express purpose of protecting the weak, then you will not last very long at all. No, in this world, what's more important than knowing whom you can trust is knowing who distrusts you."

Pieces of the stonewalls were crumbling away now, but the dust storm still raged overhead turning the world into a slate of gritty ash brown.

"Let me teach you an important lesson, boy, and you can thank me for it later." The lich tapped his staff on the ground and a monstrous crack tore through the earth.

"No, this isn't how it was supposed to be! It was... it was fated!" cried Arthur.

"Fate?" echoed the lich, who started to laugh mockingly, but not in an evil or cruel way.

Before Arthur could protest any further, the lich snatched the Staff of Ascension from his hands and backed away. The stonewalls fell apart but Arthur already found himself tumbling down a deep chasm, watching as the light above slowly dwindled to nothingness. The last words he heard were the fading echoes of fate, fate, fate bouncing off the chasm walls and the lich's hoarse laughter, which in the silence now seemed tinged with the faintest shade of regret.

Arthur shuffled off the last remaining ties to his mortal coil and set himself free to begin his journey...

Drifting upon the cosmic winds, there he saw it: the Basin of Life in its entirety, growing smaller and smaller as Arthur was pulled towards some unknown destination by an unknown force. The entire universe sprawled around him. He had heard about this experience from his peers who had ventured to the Tapestry and back, but he did not expect such luck to come to him. He remembered clearly his first encounter with the Fate Sisters and the warning they gave, and bitterly regretted his own rashness. It wasn't fair, he thought, nothing made any sense. There was no justice.

As his remaining consciousness ebbed away, Arthur contemplated the life he lived and was at least grateful for the opportunities given to him. He was sad he could not share those last few years of happy memories with his parents. He felt ashamed of the naivety he showed before the hooded man, or lich, but there was no anger. He sighed in the only way a bodiless manifestation of energy could, and was ready to accept his fate.

And then he felt his mind being probed by a curious foreign intruder. It was an odd sensation, like being searched from the inside out. The other searched his soul, feeling for a foothold, slipped itself into the nooks and crannies, and then settled in. He did not resist.

Arthur felt like he had been utterly alone for his entire life and only now did he know what it was like to have company. He watched the cosmic swirl of stars and galaxies in front of him, spinning slowly, forming a pattern, coming together. There was a circle, a line of flame, and a clack, clack, clackety-clack...