By that, I mean that the eye was three times my height. Just the eye. The monster it was attached to? Well, I couldn’t get a good look at it from my vantage point, but it was the sort of size you counted in floors, not feet.
I did see azure, shield-like scales around the eye, though. And that gave me a good idea of what I was looking at.
Seiryu, the God Serpent. Guardian of the Serpent Spire. It was looking right at me.
I stepped away from the door, allowing it to close, and rushed into the chasm room.
I never considered myself a coward. I didn’t think of myself as very brave, either. When seeing a god beast, though, my level of bravery was largely irrelevant. No sane mortal would have lingered another moment in that creature’s sight.
I only hoped it wouldn’t follow me. If it did, no walls, no teleportation to other rooms, and no degree of prayer would save me.
Inside the chasm room, I forced my eyes shut, taking deep breaths. I’d been scared before, of course, but—
Seeing the sheer scale of that thing, knowing that it could annihilate me effortlessly... It made me feel smaller. Insufficient.
What am I doing here?
I shook my head, clearing my mind. I had work to do.
I glanced around the room, getting a better look now that I was inside. The challenge seemed fairly straightforward, but first impressions could be deceptive. The floor wasn’t divided into tiles, which was good. I didn’t want to have to take a circuitous route.
I took a few steps closer, nearing the chasm itself. The water started only a few feet below where I was standing. It looked deep, but not insurmountably so; I could see a stone floor maybe around twenty or so feet down. No signs of monsters in the water, but I did see a large grate on my own side that could hide something behind it. Horrible apparitions, maybe, or treasure.
It was too easy. Maybe the room was designed to give me a chance to rest, but it didn’t fit what I knew of Selys. One of the goddess’ many titles was “The Mistress of Trials”, and it was well-known that she enjoyed providing mortals with escalating challenges. She was a gambler of a goddess, and she expected her followers to follow her example.
So, what was the gamble here? Would the obvious hand-holds on the side break away from the wall, sending me into the water below? That was underwhelming. I mean, I’d just made it through two rooms that were almost undoubtedly lethal.
I wasn’t far from the water, so I pulled the dueling cane off my belt and extended it, reaching down to tip the metal blade into the liquid below. There was no obvious reaction when it touched the surface of the pool, so I withdrew the weapon and ever-so-carefully set it down.
I opened my backpack, pressing the top of the quill against the wet metal. No telltale burning. I leaned down and sniffed, and the liquid didn’t smell like much of anything. Finally, I gingerly pressed a finger on my left hand against the liquid. Nothing. Ordinary water, as far as I could tell.
Hrm. If it wasn’t acid, what was I dealing with? Just a time limit, maybe?
The backpack was already out, so I opened the book.
When I flipped to the next page, I saw something new: fresh writing. The text appeared as I watched.
This is the Room of False Choices.
That was it. No further explanation, no detail. In a moment of frustration, I removed the quill from my bag and wrote a reply on the same page. There was plenty of blank space; each room started on a new one.
Dear Mysterious Book Entity,
I would like to inquire about more details pertaining to the Room of False Choices. Would you, perhaps, deign to provide me with insight on how best to proceed?
Yours in inquiry,
Corin of the House Cadence
I chuckled, dispelling some the lingering fear from my own mind. Absurdity had always been an excellent shield against the threat of negative emotions. I did not expect a reply.
Dear Corin,
(May I call you Corin?)
There’s no need to be sarcastic.
But it’s been so long since anyone has written me (or in me?), I suppose I can offer you a glimmer of such insight.
Provided you’re not blind, you can currently see three doors from the entry of your room. Those are options for exiting your chamber, but they are not the best ones.
As much as I am enjoying our correspondence, I must encourage you to hurry. Even as you read, your true choices begin to fade.
Yours in useful insight,
Mysterious Book Entity
I stared blankly at the now-filled text.
What...?
The reply had filled the remainder of that page and carried on to the next. I wasn’t sure what that would mean for help in the next room, but for the moment, I had bigger concerns. I stowed the book and the quill. I was, apparently, wasting time.
So, the puzzle was figuring out the real exit. Or exits.
My mind immediately went to the grate within the pool. That seemed accessible, if I felt like diving in. Which, at present, I didn’t.
I checked the walls on my side next. Were there any hidden panels, signs of secret doors?
I didn’t find anything immediately, but I did get a new idea. I tossed my backpack right back down, grabbing the book and quill and transcribing the text.
Dear Mysterious Book Entity,
I’m looking for someone named Tristan Cadence. He entered the tower five years ago and he may or may not currently be alive. I would be immensely grateful if you could tell me anything about what happened to him.
Thank you,
Corin
I stared at the book with growing nervousness for several moments before I saw the reply.
Dear Corin,
You shouldn’t be asking me about that right now.
You should be more concerned about surviving this room.
Yours,
Mysterious Book Entity
I sighed, putting my things away. More time lost.
I eyed the switches on the other side. What would they do?
One of them had the switch side facing toward me, the other was facing the opposite direction. Interesting.
I heard some kind of clicking noise somewhere, and then a loud scraping that traveled across the entire right wall of the room.
Resh. I really hope that isn’t the god beast looking for me.