Chapter 3: The Song-Wind City

It is late in the afternoon when the river takes a wide bend to the south. The jungle has become less dense over the past few hours, and now, up ahead, you can see a sprawling city on the shores ahead of you. The vast city is largely laid out in a circular pattern, with canals crisscrossing it. A few districts sit to the west of the central city, along with several docks that bustle with activity, ships of all shapes and sizes coming and going.

Some of the buildings of the central district stretch to dizzying heights. Even at this distance, you can hear the musical tinkling sound of thousands of glass charms that seem to adorn every window and door. This is Nantambu, the Song-Wind City! You've finally arrived!

You pull your raft ashore as you make your way along the docks on the outskirts of the city. Shuttles run between portage points north and south along the river while fishers cast nets and haul in their catch. The docks are also where merchants without a permanent stall in the city's main bazaar sell their wares, often right from the boat they arrived on. The smells of rich spices and rare woods fill the air, along with the tasty aromas of meat and baked goods.

Before you have gotten very far, a young human boy with dark skin, unruly hair, and colorful clothes approaches you. "Hello! Welcome to Nantambu! Forgive me, but you look like you've had a rough journey to get here. Are you looking for a place to stay? Maybe a bathhouse to get clean, or the best shops to purchase new clothing? I'd be happy to be your guide to the city, for just a trio of copper pieces!" The boy grins and holds out his hand expectantly.

Despite his suspicions, Novac doesn't think this kid has any nefarious plans.

The boy's eyes light up when AJ offers him a silver piece. He quickly pockets it before she can change her mind. "The Magaambya, yes! Right this way!"

When Al asks about the journey being rough, the boy shrugs. "If you come through the jungle, yeah. Especially lately, with all the beasts riled up from the Godsrain. The folks who come here through the river or the roads usually arrive none the worse for wear, though. You may want to try that next time!"

He leads you along roads and bridges over the canals towards the main part of the city. Along the way, you pass by several open-air markets and shops. Glassmakers and cloth merchants display a riotous array of colors and designs. Street musicians and performers busk in courtyards located conveniently near food carts. Charms and chimes seem to hang from every window, and temples of all sizes dot Nantambu's streets.

The majority of people you see here seem to be humans, but you also spot some Ekujae like those you met in the jungle. There are also some short humanoids who stand barely three feet tall, as well as furry hyenalike people, scaly lizardlike folk, and even a few beings that look like a cross between humans and cats!

At the very center of the city stands the Magaambya. The magic school has a beautiful campus with massive mosaics of warrior-mages with animal masks overlooking the school’s terraced gardens and the surrounding city. Ten buildings are arranged in a circular fashion around a central garden, with various smaller buildings around the outskirts.

"Here we are! The Magaambya!" your guide says with a grin.

"I'm Ikeno," the boy says, pointing to himself.

"Most of the new students who enroll here have a sponsorship from somebody already affiliated with the school, but they've been known to accept people who don't have a sponsorship, too. If you want to become a student, I guess it doesn't hurt to ask!"

"Nantambu was built to be one big community," Ikeno says with a smile. "Even the poorest citizen here has access to food, clean water, and a safe place to sleep. That goes a long way towards keeping crime down. But there are still a few bad eggs, especially around the outskirts of the city. Stay away from there and you should be just fine!"

The student Novac talks to directs him to the Heron Archives, one of the ten large buildings that ring the center of the campus. From there, further inquiries lead you to an office at the top floor that belongs to one of the school's teachers by the name of Takulu Ot. Takulu is an average-looking man with a friendly smile. He wears clothing with crisp patterns and happy colors, and a wooden staff leans against the wall behind his desk. The desk itself is adorned with small trinkets in the shape of anteaters.

"Welcome to the Magaambya," Takulu says with a smile. "Are you prospective candidates for study here? We are always looking for talented and dedicated individuals who wish to further their studies and who are willing to give back to the community."

Takulu's eyebrows raise. "Another world, you say? Which one is your home? Castrovel? Akiton? Surely not Aucturn, I hope!" He chuckles.

"Well, you certainly came to right place as far as magical phenomena are concerned. I think looking into the circumstances of your arrival here and a possible way to return to from whence you came would be a worthy project of the Magaambya's staff and students," Takulu says to Novac.

He turns to Dalton and nods. "Those are a few of the planets we can see in Golarion's night sky. Through powerful magic, some of us have been able to visit those worlds, and some natives from those worlds have come to our planet as well. Earth, you say? That is a strange name for a planet! But to each their own, I suppose," he chuckles.

"Personally? No, I have not," Takulu says, shaking his head. "Both translocation and transformation? That is mighty magic, indeed. In my humble opinion, it suggests the hand of the divine may be involved. I wonder if your arrival here is related to the Godsrain in some way. Have you heard of the Godsrain?"

Takulu smiles at AJ’s theorizing. "It is certainly possible! Until it can be proven otherwise, I wouldn’t rule it out."

He turns to Novac, his smile unchanged. "Well, to tell the truth, the wisest and most learned among the Magaambya is our founder and headmaster, Old-Mage Jatembe. If anybody will know how to help you, it will be him. Unfortunately, Jatembe is currently away on a matter of great import. I don’t know how long it will be until he returns. Weeks, likely. Months, maybe?

"But do not fret! In the meantime, I will do what I can to accommodate you. Perhaps you’d like to sit in on some classes to learn more about Golarion and our magic? Or at the very least, I can arrange accommodations for you in the city. There is plenty to do and see in Nantambu, and I can assure you, you will not be bored while you wait!"

Takulu leans back in his chair. "I suppose there is somebody else who can get started on your plight before Old-Mage Jatembe's return. Teacher Lesedi's area of specialty is extraplanar portals and beings. I believe she is familiar with the aiudara network.

"As for the Godsrain itself, many of our students and staff are in the midst of studying its effects and aftermath, but this is no easy task. The shards of Gorum have created powerful monsters, supernatural environments, and other strange phenomena, so even approaching any of his remnants, let alone obtaining a sample for study, have been harrowing. I'm afraid we just don't know enough about it yet to offer any solid leads in that regard."

Takulu gives you directions to Lesedi's office, but she isn't there when you arrive. Asking around reveals she is currently mentoring one of her students in a nearby building. When you arrive at the indicated building, you can see a large chamber, the center of which has been cleared away to make room for a circle of arcane runes inscribed on the floor. The runes are glowing with red-orange light, illuminating the otherwise dimly-lit chamber.

Teacher Lesedi stands outside the circle, alongside her student. Lesedi herself resembles the Ekujae of the jungle, but her skin tone is a lighter brown, with patches of even paler skin across her face and bae arms. He long hair is white, and her orange eyes glow with flecks of red. She is diminutive, barely standing five feet tall, the dainty pink robes she wears are incongruous with the necklace of wicked-looking bones around her neck.

Her student is a young human woman wearing colorful clothes and a soft red hat atop her braids. Her face is locked in concentration as her fingers move in arcane patterns. Within the glowing circle, a rift hangs in the air, through which a fiery landscape of obsidian landmasses within a lake of bubbling lava can be seen.

"Good work, Meitama," Lesedi says. "Keep your focus. Concentrate... concentrate...!"

The hair on the back of AJ's neck stands up. She gets the feeling something bad is about to happen. The pale woman catches on fire as she calls out a warning a mere moment before Meitama's nose twitches and her eyes start to water. "N-no, I... I can't hold it... ah, ACHOO!" She lets forth a mighty sneeze, and the rift suddenly roars with a burst of flame.

"Meitama!" Lesedi shouts, raising her hand which is already beginning to glow with golden light. But it's too late, as the rift in reality belches forth more fire and four creatures fly out! The creatures resemble two-foot-tall fiery bats with big bulging eyes and toothy grins. They cackle and cavort before orienting on AJ and her flames!

Lesedi whirls, taking you in for the first time. "Hi, there! Could you lend a hand? Take care of these scamps while we seal the rift!" She turns back to the fiery tear in reality as the scamps swoop towards you!

Novac quickly draws and hurls two daggers at one of the creatures, one of his knives finding its mark. Al zaps two of them with electricity, though they avoid the worst of the magical attack.

The injured creatures chitter and swoop in to attack Novac and Al in retaliation. The other two circle around to the sides of your group before breathing forth blasts of flames! The fire washes over the pair engaged in melee, healing some of their injuries.

Three of the four creatures resists AJ’s sonic blast, but the fourth one catches the full brunt of it, spiraling out of the air and crashing hard into the floor, where it lies still. Dalton channels his ki and strikes out in a flurry of blows. His first strike takes down the wounded scamp that was attacking Novac, so he quickly whirls to deliver another punishing blow to Al’s assailant, dropping it as well. With only one foe left, Novac moves up and quickly stabs it twice, causing it to go down. Al’s healing magic washes over the group.

With the enemies vanquished, it only takes Lesedi and Meitama a few more seconds to fully close the fiery gate. Lesedi sighs with relief. "A sneeze this time, Meitama?" she asks with a quirked eyebrow.

Meitama throws up her hands. "It’s not my fault, Teacher! Things like this just keep happening. I swear, I’m a chaos magnet."

Lesedi shakes her head and turns back to you. "Thanks for your help. You all okay?"

"Do you often spontaneously combust, or is this a new thing?" Lesedi asks curiously, regarding AJ with her head cocked.

Meitama blows a raspberry. "Oh, I've been there before," she remarks acerbically.

Lesedi gives her a look. Meitama gives a hasty bow and mumbles something about homework before scurrying off. The petite elf turns back to Novac and listens attentively to his summary of the situation.

"How fascinating! Well, you definitely came to the right person here. So, you're trying to get back to your home world, yes? The first step, I think, would be to closely examine your auras to see if I can trace the position of that world in our Universe. It sounds like at the very least it is in a star system far removed from our own, but I've no doubt it exists somewhere out there in the vast and silent void!" Lesedi says with a grin. "Do you consent to an aura exam?"

Lesedi looks at the remains of the fallen fire creatures, which have crumbled to ash. "Oh, I don't think those fire scamps were trying to eat you! Just burn you for fun!" She collects some of the ashes into empty glass vials and stores them in her pouch. "Good spell components," she explains.

The petite elf then you leads you to an adjoining building where her office is located, decorated in various shades of pink, of course. Once there, she bids you to stand still as she casts her spell. Her orange eyes seem to glow brightly as she waves her hands before each of you in turn. You can feel a subtle thrumming of the air around you.

"Hmm, yes I see. Your auras are strong, ripe with potential. I can see the energies of your home world around you still, but they are merged with this world's. And I can feel the power of divinity that has touched you. It is colored in brown and gray. I see... two faces in profile... Oh, interesting..."

Lesedi puts her hands down, and the magical energies dissipate. She smiles up at you. "I think I know who brought you here," she says with a singsong tone. "A goddess called Alseta, the Welcomer. Alseta holds sway over transitions. Physical transitions through doorways and portals or over thresholds, metaphorical transitions, and even the forward flow of time—Alseta influences them all. And some elves associate her with the aiduara, the gates such as the one through which you arrived here. She must have brought you to our world for a purpose. Maybe if we can find that purpose, we can help you fulfill it and allow you to make your way back home!"

Lesedi gives Dalton a resigned nod. "Even the most powerful teleportation spell I'm aware of can only move people to other planets in the same solar system. I believe yours is in an entirely different galaxy! Barring discovering a ritual to open a gateway of immense power or another act of divine intervention, it looks like you might be stuck here for a while."

The elf shrugs. "The good news is that it doesn't seem like anybody's forcing you to do anything. You could probably go off and do anything you wanted here on Golarion. But it's my hypothesis that fulfilling the tasks that Alseta brought you here to accomplish is your best bet for getting home."

She looks to Novac. "I can't claim to guess as to Alseta's motives. The goddess's faith is not widespread here in the Mwangi Expanse. She is more of a Taldan goddess, and her main followers are on Avistan far to the north. I can see about sending messages to members of her clergy there. It may take some time, but perhaps one of her faithful will journey here to meet with you and she more light on the Welcomer's goals."

"A few weeks, at least. The Welcomer’s faith is relatively small, and Avistan is quite far away. Even with magic, it will take time for an emissary to travel there, find the right person, and travel back."

"I suppose. But if you choose to stay here, I'd love to study you more! You know... for science?"

"Nantambu is very safe. Any trouble your friend might get into would likely be of her own making," Lesedi says with a wry smile. But the smile quickly turns to an expression of concern. "But maybe one of you should talk to her? I can only imagine the stress you have been under lately. A sympathetic ear might go a long way towards easing the burden in her heart."

Novac rolled his eyes, a silent acknowledgment that Lesendi's words were aimed squarely at him. With a weary sigh, he pushed himself to his feet. "I'll go find her and talk. It's my fault, after all." He exited the building, his steps leading him in the familiar "straight ahead" direction he always gravitated toward in unfamiliar places. After a short while, he spotted AJ leaning against a wall and moved to join her. At first Novac said nothing thinking about the right words before he finally began to speak.

"I'm what they call a cooperative repeat offender. Others might just say career criminal. I'm good at what I do, but I tend to brag, and that usually gets me caught. I'm fine with it, though. I spent the first two years of my life in prison; I was actually born in the prison hospital—it's on my birth certificate. When the police come knocking, I don't run, I don't fight, I don't yell. In prison, I behave, follow orders, and avoid conflict. That track record usually lands me in a minimum-security facility. I know the guards there, they know me, and that makes it bearable.

Now, this ‘God’ has pulled me out, making me a fugitive. The longer I'm gone, the worse it gets. I was in a high-security prison once, just for two weeks, I think, until weapon charges were dropped—a mix-up. A high-security prison is a completely different beast, and I have no desire to relive that experience. Right now, I don't even know if I want to go back. My choices are either returning and facing a long time in hell, or staying here and living through hell every day. Unlike you, I don't like what I've become. A killer."

He gestured to his Flyssa. "I know how to use these knives to inflict maximum pain. Before I came here, I never hurt anyone." He let out a heavy sigh. "The point is, I'm on edge, but I shouldn't have lashed out at you like that. We're in this together, and we need each other to survive. I am sorry "

Lesedi perks up at Dalton's words. "Oh! So, the people of your home world are knowledgeable about astronomy? Are you capable of spaceflight?"

Lesedi's orange eyes light up with excitement. "We have departments of both astrology and astronomy, yes. We have studied the cosmos and the movement of the planets. Magic exists that allows us to transport ourselves to other planets, but it is almost impossible to master and only a rare few have been able to use it. We have yet to master the magic or technology needed to actually explore the vastness of space! But there was an attempt at manned spaceflight nearly a century ago!

"The elven astronomer Gelviel Zorriah built a ship called the Lirgen's Glory and set off for the stars over a century ago. Oh, it was a glorious contraption! Almost two hundred feet long, with a solid stone hull and crystalline capacitors to store mystic energy. Its propulsion engine was fueled by amplified telekinetic magic!"

The petite professor lets out a wistful sigh. "Unfortunately, it was only a few years later that the Eye of Abendego formed, an immense perpetual storm that wiped out the nation of Lirgen. Contact with Lirgen's Glory was lost, and nothing has been heard from it or Gelviel since. We elves can live for centuries, though, so there's a chance that he and his crew are alive out there, somewhere in space. Maybe one day, we'll find them again..."

"Of course. There's an inn not too far from campus called The Oxpecker's Perch. It is affordable, and the accommodations are comfortable. Go and rest up. When you're ready to start, you know where to find me."

You check into the Oxpecker's Rest, securing comfortable rooms in which to stay. After a hearty meal in the common room, you retire to your chambers to rest and reflect on everything you've learned today. Eventually, you settle down to sleep.

And in the warmth and stillness of the night, you dream...

---

AJ

You drift into sleep, the warmth of the hearth slowly giving way to a deeper, more primal heat. It's the kind of warmth that cradles your soul rather than your skin, and it draws you inward—into a dream that feels too vivid to be just a dream.

You stand in a vast open field, blanketed with flowers that shimmer like embers. The sky is a cascade of twilight hues—lavenders, golds, and burning crimsons. Everything breathes with color and warmth, as though the whole world is a living flame made gentle.

Then you feel it.

A presence—tender, powerful, vast. It doesn't announce itself with sound or flash, but rather, you feel seen, known, in a way that strips away every fear and pretense. You turn slowly and there they are. You instinctively feel their celestial power, and you somehow know their name.

Arshea.

Their form shimmers and shifts, like silk caught in sunlight. One moment masculine, the next feminine, then something wholly other, and then somehow... you. Standing before you, Arshea wears your face, your form, your dark hair spilling over pale shoulders like liquid night. They smile at you with your own mouth, warm and radiant.

"Beautiful, aren’t you?" they say, voice soft as velvet and rich with power. "It’s no wonder I chose to wear your shape tonight."

You stare, unsure, your heart suddenly fragile in your chest. Arshea’s eyes—your eyes, yet impossibly older, impossibly kind—glimmer with mirth and sorrow both. "You didn’t choose this form. You didn't ask to become her. But your soul did."

They step forward and take your hand, fingers warm with divine fire. "You were brought here not just by magic, AJ, but by meaning. You were becoming, even before Golarion called you. And now, you have the chance to become fully. You are not trapped. You are free."

The field around you blazes suddenly with light—not scorching, but exultant, joyous. You feel it in your chest, that fire of yours. The same fire that burns in your hands when you cast your spells, that courses through you in the heat of battle. But now it isn’t rage or danger. It’s affirmation.

"This body," Arshea whispers, touching your cheek with reverence, "is not a mistake. It’s a gift. A reflection of truths long buried, now given form. Do not fear your new shape. Explore it. Rejoice in it. Seek your desires—wherever they lead. Love whom you love. Live how you live. You are free."

A warmth swells in your chest, aching and glorious. You feel tears prick your eyes—not of sorrow, but release. For the first time, a corner of the confusion and fear uncoils and burns away.

Arshea smiles and their form shifts again, wings of molten gold unfurling behind them. "The world is fraying. Darkness rises, and the old ways grow brittle. But you, AJ, are change. Fire. You have been chosen not because you are perfect, but because you burn with potential. You will help set things right. Not by conforming, but by being fully, freely you."

They lean in and press a kiss to your forehead. It tingles like a sunbeam through glass. "My boon to you is this," they whisper. "When you doubt yourself, feel my flame. When the world tries to bind you, feel your fire break those chains. You are never alone. Not now. Not ever."

The field begins to fade, the flowers flickering out like dying sparks—but the warmth remains, burning in your chest.

You wake with the firelight flickering low beside you, and though you’re alone in your bed, your cheek is still warm from a kiss that couldn't have been real.

And yet, somehow, you know it was.

---

Al:

The night is deep and still, and the air is warm where your body rests on the bed. You slip into sleep easily, as though drawn downward into the quiet earth itself.

And then you are walking.

Bare feet press into soft loam, the scent of pine and leaf-mold thick in the air. You recognize the forest—it is every forest you’ve ever wandered, but older, quieter, truer. The trees seem to lean in as you pass, not menacing but watchful, wise. The hush here is complete, not silence, but reverence.

A crunch of leaves behind you makes you turn.

He stands tall among the trunks, weathered as old bark, with skin lined by time and hands calloused by honest labor. A longbow rests against his shoulder, and the elk-horn helm upon his brow glows faintly in the starlight. His eyes are sharp, the color of pine pitch, and they fix on you without flinching. You instinctively feel his divine power, and you know his name. Erastil.

"You came a long way to get lost, boy." His voice is rough-hewn, steady as split oak. He takes a step forward, the earth barely noticing his weight. "Or maybe you were already lost when the world pulled you here."

You swallow, heart tight. You feel the tusks in your mouth, the weight of your new body. Still unfamiliar. Still strange. You wait for judgment.

He snorts. "You think I care what shape your jaw is? What color your hide turned? If you think a pair of tusks makes you less, then you ain’t learned a damn thing about strength."

He stops just before you, taller than you'd imagined, smelling of campfires and river moss. "This world’s sick," he says. "It’s fraying at the edges. Too many people chasing power, forgetting the land, forgetting each other. I don’t need warlords or heroes in shining armor. I need keepers. People who’ll build, tend, stay."

His eyes scan you, and you feel your soul laid bare. "You didn’t ask to come here. And you sure as hell didn’t ask to be changed. But you’ve got the spark. You hear the trees. You feel the soil. That’s enough."

He reaches into his belt pouch and pulls out a seed—small, unremarkable, except that it pulses softly with warmth. He holds it out. "This is my boon. Keep it on your person. You'll share in my bounty, so long as you continue to work for it."

You reach for it. His rough fingers curl yours around it. "Take care of your kin. And I don’t just mean blood. Friends. Strays. The fool who can’t feed himself in winter. They’re yours now. That’s your calling." He pauses, studying you one last time. "Walk your path, Al. And walk it with pride."

Then the trees begin to fade, the light dimming to darkness—not cold, but restful, like a heavy quilt drawn over your thoughts. You wake with your hand clenched tight against your chest, and when you open it, there's nothing there.

But the weight of something promised still lingers.

---

Dalton:

Sleep finds you easily tonight. The ache in your muscles fades as you lie still, the rhythm of your breath deep and steady. In that quiet space between thought and rest, something shifts. Time stills. The world slows.

And then, you are standing in a vast, tranquil courtyard beneath a sky the color of old parchment. Marble tiles stretch beneath your feet, warm but not hot. The air smells faintly of incense and distant rain. Surrounding you are scroll-covered walls, calligraphy in languages you know and many you don’t—yet they all make sense, as if they were written on the inside of your soul.

You feel him before you see him.

A presence—calm, contained, unwavering.

You turn.

He is seated cross-legged atop a flat stone. A man. A god. His name comes to you. Irori.

His body is a study in perfect balance: strong but not swollen, lithe but not frail. Every muscle is exactly as it should be. His simple robes hang in clean, natural folds, his bare arms and feet unadorned. His gaze is sharp, but not piercing. It holds no judgment—only observation. Only truth. He inclines his head once. A silent acknowledgment.

"Dalton," he says, and though his voice is no louder than a breath, it carries through the courtyard like a bell. "You were not born into this world, yet you stand upon its soil now. This was not accident. It was selection." He rises—not hurried, not slow, just precisely at the pace he means to. "Many cry out for salvation. Many hunger for strength. Few are ready to cultivate it. You are ready. Not finished—but ready."

He steps forward, hands behind his back, walking a slow circle around you. "Your body is strong. But strength without clarity is chaos. Your mind is sharp. But knowledge without humility is arrogance. Your spirit is steady. But steadiness without purpose is stagnation." He pauses in front of you, watching. "You have been given a gift—not perfection, but the path to it. Golarion is a world fraying at the edges. Power has grown wild. Discipline has grown rare. You are here not to dominate others, but to inspire them. To lift them. To teach by example."

He turns and gestures toward one of the walls. The calligraphy there glows faintly as words rearrange themselves, forming a phrase in a language you do not recognize—but understand nonetheless:

"Perfection is not an end. It is a practice."

He turns back, and his right hand opens. Floating just above his palm is a tiny bead of light—shimmering, shifting with strange depth. Not heat. Not energy. Understanding. "This is my boon to you," Irori says. "A seed of knowledge. You will not grasp it all at once. But when your body, mind, and spirit align, it will bloom. In a moment of need, when instinct fails, it will show you the next motion." He steps closer and lifts the bead to your forehead. It dissolves into you like mist, and you feel your thoughts settle—sharper, clearer.

"Stay humble. Train without end. Help others rise." He places a hand briefly on your shoulder—warm, heavy with calm. "Walk the path, Dalton. Walk it well."

And then the courtyard fades, the incense and scrolls dissolving into morning light. You wake before sunrise, heart quiet, body still. The ache in your muscles is gone. A new kind of clarity lingers in your breath, and though no words are spoken, you know:

You have begun.

---

Novac:

The dream creeps in like smoke—slow, sweet, and honey-thick.

You find yourself in a golden chamber lit by a thousand flickering candles. Their flames dance without heat, casting shadows that move with minds of their own. The air smells of jasmine and spice, and every breath hums in your throat like laughter held just behind your teeth. Silks drape the walls like water frozen in motion. At the center of the room stands a tall, lithe figure with slender pointed ears—every step of her bare feet silent on the marble floor, every motion fluid as molten gold.

You somehow know her name.

Calistria.

She moves like temptation incarnate, yellow silk clinging and flowing around her body in turns, teasing without revealing. Her long, pointed ears twitch slightly as she tilts her head toward you, smiling in a way that sends a chill down your spine—equal parts seduction and threat. "Well, well," she purrs, her voice curling through the room like smoke. "A little rat from another world… and yet you landed on your feet."

She circles you, fingertip trailing just behind her along your shoulder—not quite touching, but close enough to raise the hairs on your neck. "You were caged, weren’t you? Branded, locked away, forgotten. But now…" She gestures, and the chamber around you shifts—becoming a dark alley, then a glittering ballroom, then a battlefield lit by moonlight. "Now, you’re free. Golarion is full of opportunity, Novac. And I adore people who know how to take what the world won’t give willingly."

She stands in front of you again, her eyes gleaming like amber glass. "You were brought here for a reason. Not to be a hero in shining armor. No, no." She grins wider, revealing teeth just a little too sharp. "You were brought here because this world is unraveling, and sometimes it takes a knife in the dark to cut the right threads."

She leans in close, her lips near your ear. "Be who you are, Novac. No chains. No apologies. Seek pleasure, take revenge when it's deserved, and lie through your pretty little teeth if it gets you where you want to go."

Her hand comes up—golden nails glittering like stingers—and she opens her palm. A small, shimmering brooch lies within: a brooch shaped like a wasp, its wings made of slivers of mirror. "My boon," she whispers. "Use it when you need to bend the truth to your needs. Let them believe what you want them to believe. Let them love you. Or fear you."

She presses it to your chest. You don’t feel it pierce, but it burns—just for a moment—and then the heat fades, replaced by a flicker of something else: confidence. Power. She steps back, her gaze appraising and amused.

"Play the game well, my little sting. The world’s full of locked doors, but you’ve got all the keys."

She turns, her silhouette vanishing into candlelight and silk, and you feel yourself falling—no, gliding—back into your body, into the inn where you sleep. You wake, and while the brooch is nowhere to be seen, you can feel the prick of pain from where it was. And you can feel its potential waiting to be released.

When you return to the Magaambya after breakfast, Lesedi is surprised to hear about your dreams. "Oh, wow! I've heard stories of people who have had visions of the gods, but I've never met any of them until now! You should feel honored, indeed!" If asked, the elf can give you basic information about each of the divinities who spoke to you.

Arshea: Appearing in art more than any of the other empyreal lords, Arshea, the Spirit of Abandon represents freedom, physical beauty, and sexuality. More than anything else, freedom is what matters to Arshea. For many this is most commonly seen as freedom for sexual expression, but Arshea represents the freedom to experience all that is good in the world, be it an ideology or a specific emotional or physical expression. So long as it doesn’t harm others, Arshea believes creatures should do, think, and feel as they will. They encourage their followers to try new things, to think in new ways, and to wear new forms.

Erastil: Unlike many other good deities, Erastil, Old Deadeye, does not send his followers out into the world to fight and crush evil. Eschewing crusades and other ventures that take his followers away from their homes, Erastil watches over those who devote their lives to family and community. He is primarily an agricultural deity, specifically focusing on those aspects of nature that either can be tamed or are of use to his followers. His domain encompasses the plants and animals that farmers, hunters, and ranchers deal with in their everyday lives. While he is a protective deity, Erastil steps in only when quiet, pastoral lives are threatened. He desires his followers to live their lives in peace, with no risk of being conscripted into armies, devoured by monsters, or destroyed by magic.

Irori: Irori, Master of Masters, exemplifies the concepts of self-perfection. His dogma states that he was a mortal who gained godhood through achieving a physical and mental state that surpassed mortal limitations. His followers seek to emulate their god’s divine state by perfecting themselves using the words of the Unbinding of Fetters, Irori’s sacred text. The illuminated pages of the tome detail numerous physical, spiritual, and mental exercises, as well as methods of learning and remembering.

Calistria: As symbolized by the three daggers of her religious symbol, Calistria, the Savored Sting, has three aspects: lust, revenge, and trickery. Silver-tongued and charming, she is a master of weaving insults into compliments and laying intricate groundwork for retribution at its finest. She is a goddess of vengeance, but it would be a mistake to assume that means she pursues justice. Calistria is fickle, shifting her loyalties and interests as her whims take her—though she never forgets a slight, and any who think she has forgiven will surely find it is only a matter of time before they are targeted by a long-term plot of revenge to lay them thoroughly low.

"Typical," Novak thought to himself. "I'm stuck with a fickle god whose loyalties shift like sand. She'd probably sell me out if it suited her whim." But then again, what did he expect? He had chosen this life and the path it would take. Out loud, he said, "Thank you for the information, Lesedi. Now, I assume you'll want to continue your scientific experiments with my magically inclined friends here. What do you suggest I do while you're occupied with them? Are there any places in town I should check out?"

"You're welcome to stay for the experiments as well!" Lesedi says to Novac. "A spark of magic exists within all of us. You may not be able to wield the power just yet, but I might be able to kindle that spark with enough coaxing. If you're set on going out on your own, though, there's all sorts of interesting things to see and do in Nantambu. There's the Carnivorous Gardens or Oba's Menagerie if you like interesting plants or animals. The Black Crowned Crane in the heart of the entertainment is a popular place, as are the Dance Courts. Or you could check out the boat races!"

"Alright, let's test what you can do," Lesedi says. "I've had some of the other teachers help me design rooms with scenarios suited to your talents. There are some physical elements to the tests, but a large portion of them are illusions, so you shouldn't have to worry about hurting yourselves or others." She offers each of you a different test to measure your potential.

---

AJ

You're placed in a circular arena filled with flammable obstacles—wooden poles, paper lanterns, oil pots, and illusions of innocent bystanders. Your task is to burn only the designated targets without harming anything else. Oh, and watch out for the flame traps scattered around the chamber!

---

Al

Your room resembles a small grove that has been corrupted by dark magic. Plants are twisted and overgrown and animals are agitated. You must tend to the flora and fauna and cleanse the area.

---

Dalton

You are placed atop a thin stone pillar surrounded by violent magical wind. Projectiles, distractions, and illusions assault your senses. You must not move from your stance. Maintain control of your body, center your mind, and redirect your internal energy in harmony.

---

Novac

You find yourself in a chamber of mirrors. Illusory enemies stalk you. Your weapons are useless against them. You'll have to outwit, outplay, and outlast them!

Both Al and Dalton are able to clear their challenges without too much trouble. However, AJ and Novac struggle a bit, creating new complications that they have to overcome.

---

AJ

The longer you take to complete the challenge, the more smoke fills the chamber from the targets that you have set ablaze. The smoke makes it harder to see where you're aiming!

---

As you struggle with the magical energies of the traps, the power disorients you. You see dozens of reflections of yourself, all of them looking at you with disappointment or laughing as they emphasize your flaws. You'll have to master your sense of self before proceeding!

Novac is able to quickly master his mind and fiddle with the trap some more. Eventually, he is able to successfully reroute the magical energy and clear the challenge.

Meanwhile, AJ struggles to see clearly through the smoke. It takes a while, but she's able to finally blast the last targets. She emerges from her trial room dejected, but Lesedi gives her a reassuring smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up. If the challenge was designed to be easy, it wouldn't be called a challenge, now would it? You all performed within expectations."

After scribbling a few notes on a parchment, the petite elf turns back to you. "The next test will gauge your combat prowess and teamwork skills. Let me know when you all are ready to proceed."

Lesedi giggles. "Nope, no biting! I've asked the leshys in the Gardens for help with this part. They made some wooden constructs for the Starday Tournament a few months ago that are perfect for beginners to spar against. You might get cut or bludgeoned, but not bitten!"

Novac's grin widened at Dalton's bite remark. "That plant monster definitely slashed me before it bit me... probably. Hard to tell when you're just trying to survive," he quipped with a laugh. "But hey, we've had some solid teamwork in a pinch. So, let's do this." He tried to hold back, but the next words tumbled out. Facing AJ with a big grin, he added, "Just try not to BBQ me again. Honestly, with your aim, you should probably shoot at me; then we'll know you'll miss." Novac snorted with laughter, the sound edging into hysteria. Was he cracking up? Gods, ability tests, plant-people, leshies... it was all so completely absurd. Maybe he was just dreaming this up from a psych ward. He took a deep breath, getting a grip. "Right, sorry. Not entirely stable over here. Let's keep going."