“Do you disapprove of what I’m doing, Harp?” Dallion asked, looking at the horizon.

Despite this being his realm, he couldn’t remove the storm clouds that had gathered. They didn’t thunder or rain, just stood there like grim reminders just above the remnants of Gleam’s bridge.

“If I don’t do it, there’s no one who will,” Dallion continued.

The nymph kept playing her water harp. The melody was beautiful and full of calm, but Dallion couldn’t enjoy its effects—he could see them float through the air, bouncing off of him. That was one of the downsides of his sudden boost: knowing how to use music to achieve his goals made him reluctant to allow the skill to be used on him.

“Will there be any going back after this? If I succeed, I mean. I know there’s going back if I fail.”

Dallion wondered why he said that. For a moment, he had the feeling that things might get worse if he survived.

“The Moons haven’t been talking to me lately. I see them all the time now, staying in the sky day and night, even there.” He pointed at the clouds. “When it comes down to it, will they approve?”

“That’s not for me to say,” the melody changed, forming words. “I don’t know the Moons, but I know you. You’ll get through this.”

“But things won’t get back to normal.”

“Change is inevitable.”

Dallion knew that the nymph meant well, but her response still felt hollow. There was nothing she could do for him right now. His hope was that when it came to the actual fight, she would. Even wounded, the Star was more than a threat he could handle alone.

“This really is a bad idea, dear boy,” Nil’s familiar voice came from behind. The old echo had taken the pains to come all the way from his library.

“What is?”

“Ariel told me what you’re thinking. Leveling up now is a needless risk. It’ll make you vulnerable in the immediate future.”

“It’ll make me stronger for the fight with the Star.”

“That’s where you’re wrong!” Nil snapped. “Assuming the general somehow comes through, which I still have doubts about, his artifact will match the Star’s level with yours. Following that logically, the stronger you become, the stronger he will as well. Even worse, you’ll give him a chance to use abilities he lacked in your previous fight.”

“One level won’t change the outcome all that much.”

“In that case, why go through it?”

“Because passing the trial will help me!” Dallion shouted.

All the sounds in his realm vanished. The wind stopped, as did the waves and the movement of the clouds. Never before had Dallion yelled at the inhabitants of his realm with this level of anger. He wanted to apologize to the old man, to let him know he valued his advice and all the training he’d given him since Dallion was level six. At the same time, he couldn't afford to. Any distractions risked making him weaker, and right now, unwanted advice was a distraction.

“Lux,” Dallion said. “Take me to the nearest door.”

Blue flames surrounded Dallion, lifting him in the air, then thrusting him towards another part of the island. If there was any response on their side, Dallion didn’t hear it. For a few seconds, he felt like going back and talking it out, but that feeling soon faded away.

The trial entrance the firebird brought Dallion to was in the sea itself, located on the side of a dark rock. Dallion was certain he had attempted the trial before, although last time the door hadn’t been this rusty. Even so, a trial was a trial—lacking the strength to pass one was the same as lacking the strength to pass all.

“Nox, are you well enough for this?”

As long as it’s not in water, the crackling replied. I hate water.

“I hate water too!” Lux said in a far too joyous fashion. He was right, though. Firebirds and water didn’t mix, at least not unless Lux got a serious level boost.

Without further delay, Dallion pulled the door open and floated through.

You’re in the halls of destiny.

Defeat your hidden fears and shape your future!

The blue rectangle appeared immediately. That was normal. Seeing a second door less than five steps away—not so much. Judging from past experience that occurred when Dallion was faced with a logical challenge. The issue with that was that there shouldn’t be any more such challenges. In the last few months Dallion had attempted all the remaining challenges: all of them were physical, requiring him to defeat one or more enemies, among other things, in order to complete the trial. Furthermore, the corridors leading to them had always been long, occasionally filled with traps. Being presented with something new meant that the trials had changed.

Anything you know about this, Nil? Dallion asked.

The door was entirely crafted of white wood. The handle was delicate, as if belonging to royalty.

I’m facing the countess, aren’t I? Dallion smiled. He could see the logic. What was more, he was pleased that it happened. This way he got to experience something he couldn’t in the real world. Fighting the countess was the same as fighting the Star, yet awakening trials always presented a means to victory.

Dripping the handle tightly, Dallion opened the door and walked in.

A large white room welcomed him. Everything was incandescent white, making him feel as if he were standing in infinity.

“Yes, dear boy, I know everything about this challenge,” Nil said, though not in the fashion the echo usually did. This time, the echo was facing him, standing in the room itself. “In fact, it’s an extremely simple challenge. It’s all in the execution, as they say.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to face you.” Dallion summoned his harpsisword.

“There are two doors,” Nil continued. “The one you came through and the one behind me. In order to complete the trial, you need to pass through the one behind me. Needless to say, I’ll do everything to stop you.”

Concentrating, Dallion combined his music skill with layer vision. As far as he could tell, there was nothing unusual in the old echo’s words.

“At any point, you can choose to give up by walking out through the door you came in.”

“That’s it?” Dallion asked. “Seems too simple.”

“As I told you, it would be. There’s just one catch—destroying me would remove me from your realm forever.”

“Yeah, right.” Apparently, it was one of the psychological trials. It had been a while since Dallion had one of those. The goal was to test Dallion’s resolve.

“This time I’m quite serious. Destroy me and you’ll get what you wanted—a quick level up with no consequences. You won’t even feel hungry once you’re done. I won’t attack you or defend myself. The only thing I’ll do is physically prevent you from passing from the door. And just in case you’re wondering—you’re not fast enough to run past.”

Something felt off. Dallion found himself hesitating.

“There’s no such trial.”

“Oh, but there is. You’ve always asked me whether I’m a mage, well now you can be certain of it. I modified the trial just a bit. You can say I bypassed it for the low price of an echo’s existence. Destroy me and the level is yours. Go back and you’ll never have this option again. Of course, the one-day restriction will still apply.”

“You’re telling me that this is a once in a lifetime opportunity?”

“Not your lifetime,” Nil corrected. “It’s all a matter of priorities and determination. Or a cost benefit analysis. Since you’re so readily ignoring my advice on important matters, maybe it’s time you continued on your own. I won’t stop you. If you think you prefer that I keep guiding you, as much as I’m allowed, walk back. Either way, I’ll have no hard feelings.”

It had to be a trick. Surely the trial was just messing with Dallion’s head, yet in the most unexpected fashion. The trial with Jiroh had also offered him a way out of this world and back to Earth. To this day Dallion could never be sure whether that was real or not. The stakes here were a lot smaller… or were they?

“Would it help if I made a Moon vow?” Nil asked.

Instead of an answer, Dallion split into instances, then used his athletic skills to try and run past the echo. In each case, Nil blocked his path. He wasn’t lying about that, it seemed.

“Go ahead,” Dallion said.

“I vow by the Purple Moon that everything I told you is the truth and that I haven’t omitted anything of significance relating to this matter. Happy?”

Dallion’s reaction was to ask how he could be sure the vow was real. There was no way it wouldn’t be. Even the awakening trials followed the rules of the Moons, and breaking a Moon vow resulted in immediate punishment.

“You’re really willing to vanish in order to make a point?”

“Sometimes that’s the only way, dear boy. As I said, I won’t have hard feelings either way. I just want to be sure you’re devoted to the choice you make one way or the other. Put it simply, if you’re willing to kill in order to achieve your goals, you’d better accept that now. If not, at least be aware of your limitations and stop building castles onto air.”

“You disapprove of my methods.”

“I disapprove of a great many things, the same as you. Why do you think people are terrified of nobles? It’s not so much because of their power. The key is that everyone knows they aren’t afraid to use it. In the grand scope of things, mages are the arrogant ones. We can see things others can’t, so our actions often seem illogical. We deal with numbers. When looking at a page, it’s easy to do away with the lives of people. Doing it in person… that’s a whole different matter. I’m not capable of that. Nobles, though, have no problem. You see, they’ve done it at least before in a trial.”

“All of them?”

Looking back, Dallion couldn’t picture Lady Marigold as a stone-cold killer. Then again, she had lived through the wars of succession, which suggested that she had seen a lot of bloodshed first hand. Nobles were too powerful weapons to remain unused, and the only thing that could stop a noble was a mage or another noble.

“Most. Don’t ask me if that’s a good thing. I don’t know the answer. There are arguments either way. Some say strength without conviction is no strength at all. Others disagree. What’s important now is for you to make a choice.”

Dallion looked at the door across him.

“If I quit, does that mean I won’t get such a challenge later on?”

“There’s no way for me to know that. I just know you won’t get this challenge.”

Dallion unsummoned the sword.

“This never was a trial,” he hissed. “You know I don’t have a choice. If you’re really destroyed, I’ve no way of knowing anything that your original is told. I’ll never get the artifact from the general.”

“Oh? I had forgotten,” Nil said in mock surprise. “I’m confident he’ll find a way. As for information on the Star’s location, you’ve figured that out already, haven’t you? That’s why the trial is about conviction. Are you convinced you have what it takes to continue on your own, or will you endure my help?”

“Isn’t this breaking the vow?” Dallion clenched his fists.

“Not in the least, and clearly the Moons agree with me. You were perfectly aware of the consequences when I gave you the option. Facing the Star alone is already going against the odds. Would this be any different?”

Dallion took a few steps forward, stopping right in front of the echo. The old man didn’t look particularly fit, and yet he was the first and oldest mentor Dallion had had.

You never made things easy, Dallion told himself.

He didn’t want this to happen. He had already sacrificed Gleam not long ago. Dallion knew fully well that the shardfly might perish, yet he hadn’t stopped her. Even in his naivete, he knew it was too much to rely on luck, just as he shouldn’t rely on this being a mere mind game.

One level for Nil’s life. It wasn’t a lot, but given the difficulty of the current trials, it wasn’t trivial, either.

Bringing back an echo is a lot more difficult than a guardian. Aether didn’t miss an opportunity to remind Dallion of himself. It’s not impossible, though it might be easier to just ask the original to create a new echo.

It won’t be Nil.

Just like the echoes you created in combat weren’t you. You didn’t have trouble sacrificing them, did you? Also, if you use the gem, you won’t have to go through this trial in the first place. I’ll give you all the power you need to defeat the Star. I’ll vow to it. All you need is to say the word.