Dawn felt some guilt as she watched Lucas leave his office for privacy, but he had invited her to look around his office. Now that she could take a proper look around, she could see some things she did not recall seeing in his old apartment, like the Afarian pottery he must have collected during his tour of the Afarian countries. She wanted to hold them to look at the intricate designs around them, but she had a feeling she would break them with her butterfingers.

Dawn settled into Lucas’s swivel chair, and she gathered her knees to her chest as she spun it, spinning and spinning until she felt nauseous. She had never gotten carsick, but for some reason, she would sometimes feel the urge to vomit when she spun for too long. Still, she giggled at herself as the room spun.

Dawn paused in spinning the chair to let the nausea fade, and she frowned when she realized that he seemed to be taking a long time to talk on the phone. She wondered if it was about time for him to help search for new Champions. He never talked about it with her much, and she knew it would take some convincing to get him to help with the efforts—it would take some convincing for all of them.

Dawn sighed as boredom set in. She riffled through the things on his desk. He never had much to go through. He had a desk planner, but there were just a few dates circled, and she recognized the names of some of the people who he planned to have lunch with, but there were a few names that were unknown to her, making her wonder if Lucas had finally taken to dating someone.

Dawn paused to see if she could hear her uncle, but sound must not have carried well from room to room in that apartment. She pulled open the desk drawer right above the opening for the legs. Pens clattered about in the desk, but there was also a heavy thud. Ducking her head, she found a dark object in the back of the drawer. Keeping her eyes on the door, she snaked her hand into the drawer.

The object felt warmer than Dawn had expected it to feel, like a rock that had been sitting in the sun. She pulled it out of the drawer. It was cylindrical in shape, and it looked like perfectly cut clear quartz wrapped in black leather, which looked old and worn, like a book she had seen in a museum once.

The crystal heated, and it glowed a bright white light. Dawn gasped. She dropped the object in her lap, and she covered her eyes.

"Curiosity killed the cat," a deep, unfamiliar voice whispered from behind her. "That’s what you humans say, isn’t it?"

A shiver of fear ran up Dawn’s spine, and she spun in the chair toward the voice, opening her eyes. Only instead of finding herself in her uncle’s office, she was in darkness—or something more like a room painted entirely in black. There was a bright light above her, and she turned her gaze to it. There was a Falcon sitting on something that blended too well with its surroundings, and the light radiated from it.

Dawn’s jaw went slack when she realized what she was looking at.

“The Radiant Falcon,” she gasped.

“Yes, child, and in your hands is a Champion’s Handle.”

The sound came from the Falcon, but His Mouth did not move as He spoke.

Dawn looked at her hands, finding she held the Handle in both of her hands, and she pressed her eyebrows together when she recalled feeling it land on her legs.

“Uncle Lucas will be upset with me,” Dawn said, ignoring the thing that made the least sense to her at the moment.

“Lucas Driscoll, my last Champion. That is indeed his Handle. He may very well be upset that you found it, but I believe he will be more upset with me, as my children and I have all decided you would be a Champion, just like your parents before you.”

“Why would Uncle Lucas be upset at you?”

“All surviving Champions are upset with me, child, and they will be more so when they discover that We have already selected one for the new generation.”

“So, that’s it? I’m just a Champion now?”

“No, we have to decide who you belong to now.”

The Radiant Falcon flew from His perch above her, and He landed on her shoulder. His weight was both too much and featherlight at the same time. Dawn felt like she was going to fall out of Lucas’s chair, but she also had not felt herself shift even a little. She felt a comforting heat, like a campfire on a cold night.

It was another thing she did not understand, so she ignored it.

“I do believe that no Champion has ever come to Us so young.”

“I’m sorry.”

The Falcon’s Eyes closed, and He tilted His Head to the side as the room filled with His chuckling.

“The fault is not your own, and it will be many more years before the rest are chosen.”

The Falcon rubbed His Head against her cheek, and she shivered as His Feathers heated her skin, leaving her to feel more relaxed than she recalled ever being. If she were in the regular world—wherever she was now—she would have fallen asleep already.

“You have experienced little sadness in this world,” The Falcon said. “There is some darkness regarding your mother, but you have many who have tried to keep your spirit lifted.”

“I don’t remember my mother,” Dawn said.

“But you sometimes wish you had been enough a reason for her to remain alive.”

That comforting heat continued to course through her body, expelling the coldness that sometimes settled in her when she remembered her mother had chosen to die rather than struggled to survive, like her father.

“You are rather curious by nature,” the Falcon continued, “and you are enthusiastic about getting to know others. These are positive traits, but you are sometimes envious that others have been able to form stronger bonds with others than you have.”

“Does that mean I get Gaia as my God?”

“Patience, child.”

“So, the Lunar Huntress, then?”

The Falcon closed his eyes, and the space filled with his chuckling again.

“It is difficult to gauge the sins of a child, but neither envy nor anger are your worst sins.”

The Radiant Falcon flew from her shoulder and sat on his invisible perch again.

“One of my Children would like to step forward,” He said.

Dawn’s eyes drooped of their own accord, but when she was able to open them, she found herself staring at the spines of many old books. They were thick and dusty tomes, and words of various different languages were on the spines. She was in a library. There were long shelves in front of her and behind her, and there were shelves lining the walls where the other shelves ended.

Dawn was also standing, and the Handle was no longer in her hand. She frowned at her new surroundings. There was a loud scuttling above her, and she turned her gaze upward. There was a large, hairy spider—a tarantula crawling along the ceiling. It was tan in color, and she thought it was much bigger than she thought spiders actually got.

Dawn recognized the spider as one she had seen in Afaria once. It was not poisonous, so she knew not to be afraid of it.

Until it released itself from the ceiling, stretching its long legs as it fell toward her.

Dawn squeaked, and she threw her arms over her head as she ran forward to get out from under it. She waited to hear it fall, but instead, she heard a lady chuckle.

“Apologies for frightening you, little one,” a woman said. “I was merely showing off an avatar I used to have. It may no longer exist in the physical world, but here, I can still look any way I please.”

Dawn uncovered her face, and she turned to look at the woman. A pure white cloth was draped over her body and decorated in golden armor. Her hair was dark and long.

Dawn had heard of the Gods once having many avatars. They would walk on Gaia in many forms, and every culture would have different names for them. The woman before her now was Athena, and she had the vague recollection of an Afarian tale about a spider deity weaving stories and knowledge into its web.

“You’re the Feathered Serpent,” Dawn said, breathless.

The Goddess of Knowledge and Wisdom gave the little girl a warm smile. She ran a hand through Dawn’s hair

“Yes, that is the avatar that has survived all these millennia.”

“Am I going to be your Champion?”

“I would like you to be.”

“But you represent the sin of sloth, don’t you?”

“Yes, and it’s opposing virtue of diligence.”

“But the idea of the Trials is that the Champions are supposed to fight against the sins. I do really well at school.”

Athena tilted her head to the side, and she gave the little girl an amused smile.

“You are indeed a bright and curious child, but there are many ways to be guilty of the sin of sloth.”

Dawn frowned at that, turning her gaze to the floor as she tried to think of what that could mean.

“There are things that should be of greater concern to you, child,” the Goddess said, but the voice was far deeper than it had been the last time she had spoken.

Dawn turned her gaze back up, but instead of finding the beautiful Athena, she found a giant beast—a snake—covered in feathers of every color, and He was so long that His tail disappeared behind the bookshelves. His hot breath blew back her hair, but like the Falcon, it was comforting rather than scorching in intensity.

“I am the one who killed your father, but you did not cower from me,” the Serpent said.

“You pleaded with the Eagle to show humans mercy after we trapped the Lunar Huntress in her avatar, so I don’t think you wanted to kill him.”

The Serpent made a low hum that sent powerful vibrations through the floor and up Dawn’s body. His Feathers raised on His Body, like an agitated parrot, but then They flattened again.

“Tell me what you know of the God Trials. Most come knowing very little, and I can see that you know more than most.”

Dawn felt a flutter in her belly. She might be able to stare at the God before her without fear, but she did hope she would not disappoint him, as she was sure that she knew the same amount as everyone else in the world.

“I know that we invented the atomic bomb, and then we decided to test it on the Gods. We tried it on the Lunar Huntress, and we ended up trapping her on Gaia in her avatar form. Now we have no moon in the sky at night, and no one to protect us from the Hellbeasts at night.”

The Feathered Serpent gave another low, rumbling hum, but then His Feathers turned black and rolled off His body like a thick liquid. Black fluid fell on the floor and then raised on its own to form an animal—a starved dog that was just as large as the Feathered Serpent had been. Hundreds of needle-like teeth showed in its grimace as it opened its maw to speak:

“Hellbeasts,” the creature repeated, its voice sounding like it was shouting through a gob of phlegm. “Like this?”

“Yes,” Dawn squeaked, bringing her hands to her mouth to stifle the whine that came after.

Colorful feathers sprouted from the Hellbeast, and then it was the Feathered Serpent again.

“My apologies,” He said. “Please continue.”

Dawn pressed a hand over her heart, and she took a shaky breath before she continued:

“The Radiant Falcon was angry, and he wanted to punish us. The other Gods offered to take over her duties, but he knew that the Gods would all be needed to break the Lunar Huntress out of her prison.”

The Feathered Serpent let out another hum, and His Feathers ruffled again.

“Yes,” the Serpent finished, “and both as a means to punish the humans and a means to return the moon to the night sky, He created the God Trials to find seven children who were strong enough to break the Lunar Huntress free of Her avatar.”

Dawn nodded, uncertain what the God wanted from her after interrupting her. She kept her gaze on Him as He ruffled and flattened His feathers, and she turned as He slithered passed her, turning to keep His own gaze on her.

“Continue,” the Serpent said. “You have more to tell.”

“The remaining six Gods were to choose seven children every twenty years to enter the Seven Temples of the Falcon’s choosing, and those children go into the Temple and fight against the Gods, who will grant one of the Chosen with a powerful Weapon that will help them free the Lunar Huntress from Her avatar in the Final Temple.”

“Good, little one. I thank you for indulging me in a little chat, but it is now time for us to depart.”

Dawn pressed a hand to her chest, and she bowed before the Feathered Serpent.

“It is an honor that you have chosen me as your Champion.”

Another low hum, but there was an annoyed cluck of a tongue.

“I find these Trials distasteful,” He said. “Do not kowtow yourself before me, little one. I am hardly worthy of it.”

Before Dawn could reply, Dawn found herself back in her uncle’s office. The Handle rested in her lap, and instead of glowing white, it radiated blue light. She picked it up and brought it closer to her face.

The door of Lucas’s office opened, and Dawn jumped, dropping the Handle into her lap again. Lucas’s eyebrows came together when he noticed her shocked expression.

“What have you been up to in here?” he asked, a smirk spreading on his face.

The smirk disappeared as Dawn held up her Handle. His eyes widened in shock, and then they closed as the full reality of the situation struck him.

“Oh, Dawn, no,” he whispered.

Lucas’s tall frame collapsed against the doorway, and he covered his face with his hands. Dawn set the Handle on the desk. It was hers now, but it felt wrong to hold it when it made her uncle so sad. She slid off the swivel chair, and she approached him, wringing her hands.

“I’m sorry, Uncle,” she said. “I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff.”

Lucas lowered his hands from his face, but his gaze was downcast toward the floor. “No, you shouldn’t have,” he said.

A sharp pain rose in her chest, and she clasped her hands together behind her back. Her eyes went warm, and her lower lips trembled.

“But I’m sorry, too,” Lucas said.

Lucas finally looked at her face, and he held out his arms. She threw herself into his arms and buried her face into his chest.

“Your life isn’t going to belong to you, anymore,” Lucas warned her. “It’s going to belong to the world now.”

“I know,” Dawn said, but her voice sounded so small even to her own ears.

“You know, but you don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Lucas said. “I should have put that thing in a safer place.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“No, of course not. I’m just worried. You’re so strong and smart, but I love you. That means I get to worry about you.”

Dawn said nothing. It was the only way she knew how to deal with adults who were upset with her or anyone else.

“Let’s get some ice cream,” Lucas said into her hair. “Your uncle needs some ice cream.”

“Okay.”

Lucas pulled away from her. She expected to see a sad smile on his face, but there was nothing. There was only a carefully blank expression with unshed tears left in his eyes, and it made pain come to her chest again.

Then, Lucas put his forehead against hers, and the smile came. It was sad and wobbly, but it was there.

Dawn wished it was enough to make her feel better.