Reality flickered a thousand times, shifting and changing from one dreamlike setting to the next. Forests with trees that towered over mountains became a peaceful seaside, where she was watching schools of sea creatures jumping from the ocean waves.

Nighttime in the desert now, filled with more stars than she thought possible, with ribbons of light and color lighting up the night. Great beasts she’d never seen before flew under those stars like fish in the sea, floating effortlessly on the wind. Night spun to day, and three suns shone in a cloudless sky.

These surroundings sped past too, and she found herself standing on a high wooded cliff. Giant eagles danced with wyverns over a white citadel, and the touch of magic danced at her fingertips. Scents of chamomile and river water floated on the wind as a great waterfall spilled off the cliff beside her. A wyvern rose from below, riding the updraft. It landed beside her, the force of its wings sending her backward as she shielded her face with her arms.

Its golden eyes looked at her with a fierce, wild stare. It asked: “Why have you come?”

The scene changed. Then again. Then again. Her sense of awareness and sense of self faded to the back of her mind as she tried to grasp onto sanity against the constant assault on her senses.

She was in the woods in the dead of a firelit night. A procession of people and monsters in masks and finery passed by, carrying torches that held back the dark along the snake-like path they walked. A pair of lizard people turned and looked at her with eyes of rubies and sapphires, and asked: “Why have you come?”

Shock and confusion made her step back into the bushes, and she fell. With a blink, she found herself looking up at the clouds in a bright blue sky. She was in a glade, now, face to face with a unicorn. Lean and narrow like a deer but the size of a horse, it stared into her soul with silvery, almond-shaped eyes that took up most of its face. It pointed its single, bladed horn at her heart, and with a sweet voice, asked: “Why have you come?”

The glade swirled away.

She was sitting on the beach. She’d lost her shoes. Had she had shoes to begin with? She found herself wondering, but could not recall the answer. The sand was silky and warm between her toes, and the salt smell of the water overwhelmed her. Waves crashing against the beach brought debris to the shore. A seal appeared before her, intelligent eyes observing her for a moment before shedding its skin and turning into a girl in a ragged dress. “Why have you come?”

The world went white. White, then gray, then faded to black. And then the mist returned to wrap her in its cool embrace. But this time, the dampness felt sharp and unpleasant.

“Why have you come?” The words echoed as the little light reappeared. Cold words. Haunting words. Words she could not answer. “Who are you?”

Who was she? Surely she should know. She was...

She felt ill as she wracked her brain for answers, but the more she thought about it, the more questions she had. The more questions she had, the more confused she became. The more confused she became, the more fear gripped her heart.

No, she thought. She knew who she was. She was Hadassah Graydon. She was Hadassah Graydon, but she had come here for a reason. A purpose — and though she lied to herself all the time, there was no reason to lie to the light.

Drawing a shuddering breath, tears filling her eyes, she stared at the light with conviction. This wouldn’t stop her; she was just beginning. “To become something new. I am nothing. No one.”

“You are no one,” the light said, extinguishing, leaving her alone in nothingness. Alone. But the voice remained and asked: “Does that make you afraid, child? Do you fear?”

“...Yes,” Dassah murmured.

Inches from her face, the mist swirled wildly. She cringed away as threads of white began to entwine with strings of black. The threads made a face. Eyes, black, swirling, and soulless. Its mouth opened to a great black grin with sharp white teeth. In constant motion, it moved, like the sketch child that lives in nightmares.

Voice caught in her throat, she stumbled back. The voice asked: “Do. You. FEAR?” The voice of the nothingness went from soft to harsh in a word, and wind blasted around her. The laughing face hung in the air as the mists swirled into patterns, colors, and shapes. One moment her feet were firmly on the ground. Then the ground was swept from beneath her.

Falling!

From high in the sky she fell from the clouds. Gasping, she grasped at the clouds as if they could catch her, but her hand went through them. She wrenched her body around to see the world below as it sped towards her. Green and blue and brown — patterns in the distance. Forests. Oceans. Fields. Cities.

Suffocating.

Stars in her vision. Stars in her mind. Thoughts blank. She panicked, clawing at her throat. Her eyes burned. The world approached at breakneck speed. There was no air left in her lungs for her to scream.

The ocean grew bigger and bigger below. Slamming her eyes shut, she braced for impact — but there was none.

Confused, she opened her eyes to a deep, peaceful blue. She was floating, suspended. Her skin iced over as awareness returned, and when she opened her mouth to gasp, salty water flooded in. She tried to swim, but the current grasped at her ankles like the hands of the drowned and pulled her under. Deeper and deeper into the depths she sank. Her heart pounded in her ears. Dizziness swept over her, and lights of hope from the surface began to blur and fade.

She rose her hand to that light one last time, wishing, and failing, to turn it to substance.

Is this the end? The panic left as she surrendered herself to the water. Could she have an end? Ah. So be it.

But as she closed her eyes, her feet touched the ground. The water turned back to mist, and she collapsed to her knees.

Darkness returned. Slowly, she lifted her hands to her face. Her cheeks were warm. Her hair was dry. Everything was how it should have been. Her heart beat in her chest.

The night sky came into view. She was on a narrow cliff above an expanse of tall evergreens. An enormous, translucent tiger with the head of an owl appeared before her, a wicked grin stretched across its ghostly countenance. She froze as its face shifted.

The black squiggling monster that had come from the mist stared down at her.

“Do. You. FEAR?” roared the voice as the beast lunged at her. She shrieked and tried to protect her face as the creature’s clammy paw touched her arm — and turned to smoke.

Her surroundings changed again. Again. Again. A dozen times, a dozen lives. Different scenes. Different places. And every time that face appeared, her heart leaped into her throat. Her body hurt, and her head throbbed with pressure.

Finally, left in the dark again, she wept.

Click. Click. Click.

This time when she looked up, a mighty green dragon with eyes like a cloudless summer sky lowered its great head to her level and asked: “Do you wish to return?”

“Return?” she asked, tears streaming down her face.

The dragon leveled its eyes with hers and gave her an all-knowing sort of gaze. “Indeed.”

The world twisted again, and she was in a city. The thick evening mist encroached upon them, but still, she saw that which she did not wish to see as scenes zoomed past them — then stopped.

Her eyes went wide as her gaze fell upon the body of a young girl in a hospital room, surrounded by drawings in crayons and makers. The young girl was all too thin, and she sat looking out the window into the hospital’s hall. There, a young woman with brown hair screamed into the face of a garule in a doctor’s coat. The image gripped her heart and squeezed.

“No,” she gasped, though she could not explain why. The little girl sat silently, tears streaming down her face. Dassah began to claw at her own hair. “No, no, no!”

The scene flickered, and now she was standing in a crowd. A sound like a gunshot went off, but Dassah couldn’t see what was happening. Shouting began, then screaming. Panic spread like wildfire and people around her began to run.

Dassah stood in shock and morbid curiosity, only to watch in horror as a group of garule broke through, rushing towards her, bathed in red and silver blood.

“Stop,” Dassah muttered. “STOP!”

The world went white. It faded back into the dimly lit mist. It wrapped around her and filled her with the presence of fate. But this time an unpleasant shiver ran up her spine.

Echoes surrounded her as the Fate asked her: “Who are you?”

“Isn’t this just a game?” Dassah shouted, spinning around in anger. “Why must you go so far?”

“So far, so far... So far for this hero to face their fear, but face their fear they must.”

“Why?”

“For the glory of Uldarin,” the fate said, lightly brushing Dassah’s cheek. “For the sake of Lady and all the love she has for you.”

“The Lady?” Dassah asked.

“The Lady,” the fate affirmed. “The Goddess who watches us all. She who loves you more than anyone.”

Furrowing her brow, Dassah tried to regain some composure. This was a game, after all, and it was a game with very complex religious and political structures built in. Still, “Shouldn’t I be the one choosing what I believe?”

“What you believe matters little,” said the fate. “This world exists for you, so all this world shall embrace you.”

Ah, Dassah thought, her anger ebbing away. That was the setup, of course. The player was destined to be ‘the Hero of Uldarin,’ blessed by the universe for good or ill. “Fine,” she said. “Ask your questions.”

“Who are you?”

Dassah considered for a moment, then crossed her arms. “Guin Grey.”

“Guin Grey,” said the wind. “What is it you desire?”

“Power,” she answered. “I desire the power to be myself. I desire the power to be free. Free to live without fear. Free to make choices. Free to go where I want and be whomever I want.”

“Ah,” it answered. “Freedom. Freedom to love. Freedom to die. Freedom to be like the wind. Like the wind, you shall travel. You shall travel from here to there, there to here, in and out, you shall go. You shall go... where shall you go? Shall you go to the sea? To the forest? To the past? To the future? To the Veil?”

“I want to go everywhere,” Dassah responded calmly. “I want to go to the world's edge and the depths of the earth. I want to play with the spirits of the land and speak to the wise.”

“Oh!” said the breeze. “Oh, a complicated wish! A complicated wish to be one with this world. This world needs many kinds of people; many wish to master it and seek the glory of its riches. What riches do you seek to find, going everywhere? Everywhere has many, many riches.”

“Riches?” Dassah wondered out loud without thinking. “Treasure?”

The wind gave her no chance to correct herself. “Treasure! Gold! Silver! Treasure seeks the human child. Human child who is born into the world — but who shall bear the child? The child who longs for freedom and treasure?”

“Wait—” Dassah started, then bit her tongue. She hadn’t meant to answer that way. Her brain raced as she worked to regain composure. If she didn’t know the answer, perhaps the system could answer it for her: “The treasure I seek isn’t just gold and glory. I seek the greatest treasure there is in Uldarin.”

“Ah,” said it. “Seeker of power, seeker of treasure. Such desires bring strength and grant protection. They, too, summon evil and invite danger. The danger of others who hunt wealth and power; who feed off power and fear. Fear. Do you fear, child?”

“Huh?” Dassah blinked, feeling as if she had answered this question already.

The darkness flickered again, and she found herself in a cavern. A silvery, translucent fox, ghost-like, appeared before her, a wicked look on its face.

Dassah froze, then relaxed.

The face that now stared into hers was the same, black, squiggling countenance she had seen before.

“Do. You. FEAR?” the voice came, and the fox lunged at her. Dassah stared right into the fox’s eyes as its clammy paw touched her arm — and turned to smoke.

Her surroundings changed again.

It was all nothing but smoke. She chuckled and sat back against the cavern wall.

“Is this all you got?” she shouted.

Tap. Tap. Tap. The sound of soft, echoing footsteps. Expecting to see another nightmare, she prepared herself for battle. But, instead of a monster or demon, it was a man who appeared.

Dressed in beautiful flowing white and silver robes, the man had jet-black eyes, a pair of white fox ears on his head, and a long, fluffy white tail flicking behind him. More notably, his face was normal. Almost kind. Dassah flinched as he reached his hand out to her, but he chuckled and patted her on the head.

“You have done well,” the man told her, his voice gentle. “But the path you take to the gates of birth has not yet reached its end. This test has been completed, but choices remain to be made.”