The surface of the pool calms, reflecting nothing as Moira awaits your decision. The fragmented souls within you stir with quiet anticipation, but offer no guidance. You lower your sword hand, letting the weapon rest at your side.

  ?I will listen,? you say, the words emerging rough and unfamiliar. The sound of your own voice startles you, as if hearing a stranger speak through your mouth.

  Moira’s eyes widen slightly, the color shifting from violet to a deep, oceanic blue. ?It speaks,? she whispers, her voice carrying no mockery, only quiet observation. ?The souls awaken more than memory within you.?

  She moves to the edge of the pool closest to you, trailing her fingers across its surface. The water responds with subtle patterns, forming ripples that spread and intersect in geometric precision.

  ?I cannot tell you which path to choose,? she says, her whispered voice carrying the cadence of distant wind through leaves. ?Only what paths exist.?

  The pool’s surface transforms beneath her touch. Landscapes form in liquid relief, rising from the mirror-smooth water like memories given temporary form. Mountains, forests, a great lake forming from the water.

  ?There are three paths I know of, that may show us more,? she continues. Her hand points north, where the water forms a tower-like structure atop a rise of land. ?Dawnsword Keep lies in this direction. Another Soulseeker dwells there, one who calls himself Laros. Who he was I do not know, and his nature I cannot say. The Keep stands as one of the few structures relatively unchanged by what befell this realm.?

  Her finger moves west, where the pool displays a vast body of water surrounded by mist-shrouded shores. ?To the west spreads Leandran, the great lake where the Witches of Leandra dwell upon their floating islands of wood and bone. They have retained their souls, for the most part, and haven’t succumbed to the corruption.?

  Her expression darkens slightly. ?Be warned that humans also walk those shores, heroes and warriors from the neighboring kingdom of Arnam. They seek an end to what they call the Eorleain plague, believing they can purge the corruption from these lands through fire and steel. Thread carefully, as there is no telling whether they see you as friend or foe.?

  Small ripples disturb the miniature lake as her finger hovers above it. ?And beware the Leandran itself, the Guardian of the lake who long ago succumbed to the corruption. It sleeps beneath the water most days, but when it rises, nothing upon the lake’s surface survives its hunger.?

  Finally, her hand sweeps east, where jagged mountains rise from the pool’s surface, their peaks catching the chamber’s diffuse light. ?The Mirthran Mountains stand in the east, where once beings not unlike myself dwelled among the high places. They might hold answers, if any remain.? Her voice drops lower, almost inaudible. ?I do not recommend this path. You may find an answer, but the answer might not be the truth.?

  The liquid landscape subsides, returning to still water that reflects only the chamber’s ambient light. Moira withdraws her hand, letting it fall gracefully to her side.

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  ?Of course, there is always another option,? she adds, watching you with eyes that now hold flecks of gold among the blue. ?You need not follow any path I have shown. You could forge your own way, seeking Soulseekers without guidance, or perhaps abandoning the search entirely to discover a different purpose for your hollow existence.?

  You consider the choices laid before you. North to Dawnsword Keep and the Soulseeker called Laros. West to the great lake Leandran with its witches, human warriors, and slumbering guardian. East to the mysterious Mirthran Mountains. Or your own path, undefined and unguided.

  ?Before you decide on your path in this world, Soulseeker,? Moira says, her voice carrying new purpose. She turns toward the doorless archway and emits a soft, melodic whistle that seems to ripple through the air like the patterns on the pool’s surface.

  A shadow appears in the entrance. Urso steps hesitantly into the chamber, its misshapen head lowered, multiple eyes blinking in asynchronous patterns that suggest apprehension. The beast moves with clear reluctance, each footfall placed with deliberate care, as if the ground might shatter beneath its weight.

  Moira approaches the creature without fear, extending one delicate hand to stroke the matted fur between its many eyes. ?It is a shame,? she whispers, her voice carrying a note of genuine regret.

  Before you can react, before you can even process her meaning, something materializes in her free hand. A scythe, elegant and lethally curved, its handle carved from pale wood that matches no tree you’ve seen in this realm, its blade gleaming with an inner light that casts no reflection.

  The weapon moves in a single, fluid arc. Urso has no time to retreat, no opportunity to defend itself. The scythe’s blade passes through the beast’s massive neck with impossible ease, meeting no resistance from fur, flesh, or bone.

  For a heartbeat, nothing changes. Urso remains standing, its multiple eyes fixed on Moira with what might be confusion or acceptance. Then, the beast’s form simply… separates. Its massive head slides from its shoulders, followed by its body collapsing with a sound like distant thunder.

  No blood flows from the perfect cut. Instead, darkness pours forth, a stream of corrupted soul essence similar to what emerged from the Other when you defeated him in Gorlath Forest. The darkness pools around the beast’s fallen form, writhing with purpose of its own.

  ?He held these for me, until I found a way,? Moira says, the scythe vanishing from her grasp as if it had never existed. ?Yours might be it. Take them. They will aid your path forward, I believe.?

  You stare at the roiling mass of corrupted souls, the sudden violence leaving no time for reaction or protest. The darkness pulses, reaching tendrils toward you as if sensing your hollow nature.

  When the souls flow into you, the experience differs from your previous absorptions. These fragments enter with gentler purpose, settling within your hollow form like pieces finding long-vacant spaces. Among the darkness, one soul fragment shines brighter, less tainted than its companions.

  A memory unfolds within your hollow awareness:

  Dawn mist clings to fields that have known only blight for seasons beyond counting. You rise from a restless night, shoulders already bent with the expectation of another day surveying ruined crops, another day of hunger and diminishing hope.

  You open the door and step into the cool morning air, then stops. Disbelief wars with rising joy as you stare across your land. Where yesterday stood withered stalks and blighted grain, today green shoots rise toward the sun. Across the entire field, as far as your eyes can see, crops thought lost now thrive with impossible vigor.

  You shudder in the morning air. ?Could the rumors of this God King actually be real?? you say to no one in particular.

  Tears stream down your weathered face as you fall to your knees in the soil that has suddenly remembered how to nurture life.

  The memory fades, leaving an unexpected warmth within your hollow form. An unknown feeling. Hope.

  Moira watches you absorb the essence that was once Urso, her expression unreadable. ?Now you must choose,? she says finally. ?North to Dawnsword Keep. West to Leandran and its witches. East to the Mirthran Mountains. Or a path of your own making.?

  The vibrant sanctuary awaits your decision, its impossible colors and life standing in stark contrast to the fallen form of Urso, already beginning to dissolve into the chamber’s floor, returning to whatever elements formed it.

  The path forward lies before you, branching in multiple directions. Which will you take?

  You can decide what path to follow as all members (free alike) gets to vote on what to do next on my Patreon.

  The choices are:

  1. Journey north to Dawnsword Keep to find the Soulseeker called Laros

  2. Travel west to Leandran, the great lake with its witches and dangers

  3. Venture east into the Mirthran Mountains despite Moira’s warning

  4. Forge your own path, independent of Moira’s suggestions

  Voting will close on Monday, with a new chapter coming Tuesday/Wednesday.