212. The Gatekeeper

  As a veteran working on her third ascension, Realm-altering surprises no longer fazed Serac as much as they used to. She also had her priorities straight, which meant first things first: set down a Waystation and tether the party to the right side of an impossible climb.

  Serac’s cautious approach was rewarded with the first clue to the big mystery. [Twicereign City Gate], read the fresh lotus flower’s deeply enigmatic designation. Her head, already full to bursting with questions, felt as though it might double in size. She reined it in for now, the better to share her burning curiosity with the rest of the group.

  “—as if climbing a big fuck-off wall wasn’t prohibitive enough.”

  Evidently, the group had started without her. Serac rose from her meditation to take in her surroundings in earnest. The first thing to strike was the ambient light, fast brightening into Dawnbreak. If the patterns of the previous fortNight were to hold, this would be where the Wayfarers hurried to shelter for the coming Day.

  Except the Wayfarers had just burst through the Gloaming mists and blasted said patterns to smithereens. The sun rose and [Tidewatch] ticked on, yet the skyveils remained where they were, affixed to the wall behind the Upheavers.

  Proper Dawnbreak with [18 hours] left in the cycle. You’d think this was just a ‘normal’, 24-hour day! And maybe it was. Serac made a mental note to check when the next cycle came around. Until then, she had [18 hours] to learn everything she could about this city called Twicereign!

  But first, apparently, she needed to find a way in.

  “We can hope it’s merely a matter of formality.” Renna gave her two acorns. “In any case, we won’t learn anything by prattling like bored housemaids.”

  The Upheavers now stood on what was unambiguously an artificial surface, raised well above ‘water level’ on both sides of the Sanzu. It was a massive canal, housing the portion of the river that indeed continued upstream past the waterfall. What was more, the footpaths on either bank had been ‘paved’ with the same sci-fi material that had covered the adjoining wall.

  In the increasingly sepia-toned light of day, the material revealed itself as flat sheets of unblemished black, matte in texture yet washed over by a subtle, velvety sheen. Staring down at the ground felt oddly like looking into a mirror. Doubly strange, since this mirror refused to let much light in.

  Serac tore her eyes away from her feet, the better to face the conundrum that already confounded her companions. The Sanzu River continued, alright, remarkably straight until it disappeared into an underground tunnel. Directly above the rushing liquid rust, a vast platform bridged the riverbanks. The whole thing was then bracketed by tall mountains on either side as well as an enormous gate on the far end of the platform.

  From where Serac stood, the gate might as well have been a second wall tall enough to reach the heavens. It was certainly just as solid, made of the same matte-black material that seemed to coat everything of Twicereign.

  The main difference—a rather reassuring one at that—was the clear sight of more Realm behind the gate. Hills, mountains, and even the peaks of some tall, black buildings. And perhaps most reassuring of all: the faint glimmer of purple mist in the far distance. The ‘true’ waterfall, imbued by Erudite runoffs from Manesfera above.

  “You think anyone will answer if we knock?”

  Serac’s offhand quip brought Zacko and Renna out of their private conference. The Manusya gave her a sardonic grin along with a shoulder clap. The Yaksha stared pointedly at the gate ahead, no doubt anxious to get going.

  As for Oriole, he was oddly quiet, even as his nose sniffed the air and his eyes darted all around. All things considered, it was probably the appropriate reaction for a local whose worldview had been uprooted and turned on its head. Perhaps those ruffles and scritches Serac had planned on could wait…

  But she wouldn’t let Ash off the hook without some pats and hugs. Up here, where the whole ground was covered in velvet obsidian (for lack of the correct technical term), castle travel became highly impractical. Serac reluctantly dismissed Ash into its portable form, but not before promising more chances to shine before all was said and done.

  The party traveled on foot. They soon realized the gate was farther than it seemed at first glance. By the time they got close enough to make out a visible seam amidst a wall of velvet obsidian, [Tidewatch] had already ticked over; [17 hours] remained in the cycle.

  Serac peeled off from the group and made for the seam, intending to try knocking as a first recourse. To her surprise and wonder, ‘someone’ did answer, even before she got anywhere within knocking range.

  First, the air outside the gate ‘bent out of shape’, twisting and condensing into a visible sphere of umber—perhaps not unlike one of Realgar aft’Enright’s HERDlings. The sphere then split and unfurled into two distinct shapes. Or rather, one humanoid figure and one flower.

  The figure retained the brownish color it’d originated from, all while stretching and widening into a giant Mriga. No, wait. Was it a giant Tiryaga? That wasn’t quite right either.

  It was neither. It was both. Antlers crowned a tall, slender body, which would’ve been taller were it not for its marked, cat-like slouch. Its face too was of a feline persuasion: round, whiskered, and adorned by a pair of triangular ears. A full-length cassock completed the look, somehow even more rigid and solemn than a Dawnwick Templar.

  At the neither-both’s feet bloomed a lotus flower of a rather novel description. It was much larger than a Waystation but also decidedly smaller than the Hub variety. Its petals were densely layered, tightly spaced, and oddly angular in shape, giving the whole package an eerily box-like appearance. Stranger still was its color. Dark and opaque—much closer to the velvet obsidian at its roots than to the pure-white typical of its family.

  The surprises didn’t end there. Not that anything should’ve surprised Serac at this point in her journey. She nevertheless let out an audible gasp as she attuned to the newcomer’s Pathsighted label.

  [Designation: TWICEREIGN GATEKEEPER]

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  [Aberrant Race: Gloamspawn]

  [Aberrant Class: Rite of Passage]

  [PRIMAL Instrument: THE MIRRORING LOTUS]

  Serac’s hand shot to her holster as soon as she read ‘Aberrant’. Then it froze around REVOLVER’s grip as she got to the phrase ‘Rite of Passage’. Beside her, Zacko and Renna too were caught in varying states of combat-not-quite-readiness. Only Oriole remained neutral in stance, mouth agape in astonishment.

  Well, I can safely say this is a new one. Whatever its ‘Rite of Passage’ entailed, the so-called Gatekeeper showed no signs of aggression, its stance just as neutral and non-threatening as Oriole’s. It didn’t even possess a Health bar, gimmicked-up or otherwise.

  Serac was a gunslinger, but not necessarily a trigger-happy one. If this giant Mriga-Tiryaga hybrid didn’t mean to harm her or hers, she had no reason to give it a reason. Thankfully, the are-we-or-aren’t-we stand-off proved brief, defused by the Gatekeeper’s verbal greeting.

  “??????”

  “Huh??”

  “??????”

  The greeting—or was it a command?—made no more sense the second time around. The Gatekeeper, eyes pupilless and dull, did open its cat-like mouth to speak. Its voice, deep and resonant, did carry and echo across the valley. Yet the intended audience, to a one, was utterly stumped by the foreign words.

  Serac looked to Oriole, hoping the local might have some insider knowledge. His expression, blank and acellular, told her no.

  As it turned out, patience wasn’t part of the Gatekeeper’s job description. Even as the dumbfounded Wayfarers stood rooted to the spot, the Gloamspawn raised a rigid arm to point a spindly finger at Oriole. Serac tensed, her grip tightening around REVOLVER, but before she could react in earnest…

  The collar of Oriole’s cape flashed with a ring-form radiance. The light faded after only a split Ksana, while leaving a physical imprint in the form of a necklace. From a chain of velvet obsidian hung a box-shaped pendant made up of manifold petals: a replica of the Mirroring Lotus.

  “Ori!” Serac cried out in alarm. “You okay? Anything bad happen?”

  She might’ve seen the answer for herself, had Oriole’s status not been hidden by the effects of his own Instrument. As it stood, she waited anxiously as the tabbycat patted himself all over to check for ‘anything bad’. In the end, Oriole stared quizzically at the new pendant around his neck, before shrugging in utter bewilderment.

  “A gate pass.” A croak of realization issued from Renna. “It’s only logical. The Gatekeeper’s ‘Rite of Passage’ is to determine if we’re fit to enter the city.”

  “On what basis?” Zacko directed his question to the Gatekeeper itself, not bothering to hide his irritation. “And how did Brain Cell pass the test so easily?”

  “I’ll be sure to let you know,” Renna said. For the Gatekeeper next pointed at her, before gesturing toward the Mirroring Lotus.

  Language barrier notwithstanding, the message couldn’t be clearer. Unlike the precedent set by Oriole, Renna’s Rite of Passage would involve an extra step. The frog woman pattered into the Lotic space without hesitation, as though she’d been itching to do it ever since she’d laid eyes on it (knowing Renna, that’s definitely the case).

  Serac and Zacko waited in silence, the former too anxious to speak and the latter too annoyed. They didn’t wait long. Barely a minute later, a pink figure emerged from the unnaturally dark lotus, now sporting a new piece of jewelry. She’d entered with visible enthusiasm, but her demeanor upon exit was much harder to parse.

  “Well?” Zacko demanded, not quite able to keep the edge off his voice.

  Renna held the pendant up for her companions’ scrutiny. Appearance-wise, it looked identical to the one issued to Oriole. Pathsight-wise, however, it came with its own full-blown label!

  [Designation: THE MARK OF THE OATHWARD]

  [Realm of Origin: TIDEREIGN]

  [Trinket Description: Forge ahead with certitude into the brightening Day. Those who bear the [Mark] are granted passage into the twice-lit city and access to its [Oathward] domains.]

  [WARNING: The Trinket is assigned to the designated Wayfarer and cannot be transferred to another. If the Trinket is relinquished, destroyed, or otherwise lost, you must apply for renewal with the nearest Gatekeeper. Note that renewal may take anywhere from 30 to 60 circadian cycles.]

  “[Oathward]?” Serac blurted. “As opposed to [Oathless]? But does this mean you and Ori are allowed through the gates now?”

  “I’d assume so,” Renna said with a pensive nod. “Though I do wonder why mine’s a designated Trinket whereas Oriole’s appears to be a common object. And why he wasn’t asked to enter the Lotic space.”

  “Maybe because the Gatekeeper didn’t realize I’m a Wayfarer?” Oriole did chip in with a guess—a fairly reasonable one at that. “Maybe Anchoreds get a different kind of pass.”

  “Okay, but what happens inside that box? That’s what I wanna know,” Zacko swung the conversation back his way, sounding pissy enough to make Serac raise her eyebrow. Come to think of it, Zacko’s mood had soured rather precipitously with the Gatekeeper’s arrival.

  Pissy mood or no, it was a reasonable question. Renna considered it for a moment, then: “You won’t like this answer, but it felt to me like looking into a mirror. Which I suppose is exactly as the name suggests. And because of it, I also expect your experience to be very different to mine.”

  Renna was right. Zacko let out a strangled grunt to show how little he liked the answer. Serac, on the other hand, was completely unfazed. If anything, the concept felt rather in keeping with everything else she’d experienced in this puzzle box of a Realm.

  Whether he liked it or not, Zacko became the next to receive the Gatekeeper’s attention. The NINEFOLD man hesitated for a Ksana before stepping into the box, glowering unhappily all the while.

  Renna was soon proven correct again. The Mirroring experience was indeed individualized, for Zacko took his sweet time inside the Lotic space. He was in there for a good ten minutes or so, long enough for Serac’s trigger finger to get a little twitchy.

  When he eventually did come out, he wore the same dark necklace around his open collar, plus an even darker expression on his face.

  “What’s with you, Zacko?” Serac called out with a hesitant smile, hoping to lighten the mood. “You look like you saw a—”

  —ghost, she wanted to say. But then Zacko cut her a look of such baleful gloom that she shut right up. In any case, all three of her companions had received their ‘pass’, which meant it was her turn.

  The Gatekeeper extended its spindly finger, uncannily straight like the barrel of a gun. Serac averted her gaze to instead focus on the flower’s dark petals, calming herself as if for meditation. It’s alright. Nothing I can’t handle. Nothing I haven’t seen before in some shape or form.

  But as she phased into the void at the heart of the Mirroring Lotus, the Gatekeeper spoke again, its gaze blank as the moon. And this time, every one of its syllables registered its meaning, pitiless as the sun.

  “Who are you?”

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