“Time is but the shadow of the world upon the background of Eternity.”

  Jerome K. Jerome, English Author

  “Do you need a moment before we begin, Bethany?” Diana teased as she hung upside down in mid-air and gazed at the flustered young woman. Bethany’s blush stretched from her neck to the tips of her ears, half-hidden by the tousled hair that fell across her face. Her pajamas were disheveled, sitting askew on her shoulders. She couldn’t seem to suppress the fulfilled grin that stretched across her face.

  She’d kicked Elias out of her room – her idea, not his – so she could get a few hours sleep before they marked on the stadium in the morning. Neither of them would have gotten any sleep if he’d stayed the night.

  “I’m… I’m fine,” Bethany replied breathlessly. “Just… basking in the moment.”

  “I bet you are,” Diana chuckled, her voice echoing throughout the infinite empty dream space around them.

  Bethany gave an awkward cough and snapped her fingers. Her hair weaved itself into a French-braid ponytail and her pajamas transformed into a flowing white sundress with a subtle ivy pattern. Her hourglass pupils flashed with the Flow of Eternity and her maul appeared in her hand. With a slightly dissatisfied frown at the maul’s immense size, she transformed it into a replica of her ball-peen hammer. A belt formed around her waist, and she slipped the hammer beneath.

  “Impressive Bethany,” praised Diana with a little clap. “You’re getting the hang of controlling your dream state.”

  The little girl flipped around in mid-air and floated over to stare into Bethany’s glowing eyes.

  “The Flow of Eternity,” Diana said with awe. “You’ve only just begun to scratch the surface of its potential. But be careful how you use it, lest you draw too much unwanted attention. It was not a talent created for the Contest. It was designed for affairs far more dangerous.”

  “Godly affairs, you mean?”

  Diana nodded her confirmation. “This conflict between Omoikane and Ah Puch? It wasn’t a random encounter. It was Ah Puch’s opening salvo. The fact that you, of all people, were thrust into the middle of it was an accident, though whether that accident will be a blessing or a curse remains to be seen.”

  Diana’s face lit with amusement as she saw in Bethany’s eyes the power Omoikane had bestowed upon her. “Mythic-level Bane of Shadows? Wow, Omoikane must have been really mad at Ah Puch if he gifted you that talent.”

  “I’m not really sure what it does,” Bethany admitted, shooing away the floating girl as her stare grew increasingly uncomfortable.

  “Well, let me teach you,” Diana said with a playful giggle. She floated away and landed ten feet from Bethany. With a flick of her wrist, she materialized a school chalkboard and a dark oak teacher’s desk, complete with stacks of ungraded papers and a single, stereotypical red apple. Diana’s long hair curled itself into a tight bun and grandmotherly glasses appeared on her nose. “School is in session. Take your seat, Miss Fox.”

  A single-seat child’s desk – like the one Bethany had used in elementary school – appeared in front of her. Humoring the child, Bethany sat awkwardly in the tiny seat and, with a sweep of her hand, formed a three-ring coil notebook and a pencil on the desk.

  This desk is the exact same one I used in grade six. My only friend – the real Diana – carved her initials in the top left corner. She disappeared a couple weeks later, and those initials became my most precious reminder of her. It was the last time I had a true friend, until I found Emily and Rocky.

  Bethany ran her fingers across the carved letters at the top, while the fake Diana – the aspect of Oracle implanted in her mind – began her lecture.

  “Talent Classification,” Diana said, slapping a yardstick against the chalkboard. The words materialized in white chalk at the top. Below, six words appeared in a vertical list: Common, Rare, Epic, Mythic, Legendary, and #Error#.

  “A talent’s strength and versatility depends on its classification. The rarer the classification, the better the talent. Take Healer’s Touch. It’s classified as ‘common’ because it’s given out like candy. And for good reason. The gods don’t want to watch a bunch of half-dead players stumbling around, after all.”

  Bethany recalled the toast she’d overheard The Authority make after the Arena of Ares.

  A toast to the mighty Ares, who entertained us so well this day. A toast to the dead. And a toast to those who survived. May their growing energy fulfil us for years to come.

  “No, it’s not just for their entertainment,” Bethany spat. She recalled the threads of life streaming across her void – energy syphoned off from the players that flowed into God Home. “The healthier we are – the stronger we are – the more energy we produce to feed them.”

  “Yes, the Gods sustain themselves by consuming the player’s energy,” Diana agreed. “The sacrifice of the chosen mortals that lay at the heart of the God Contest. But that is a topic to be taught by another. Now, if I may continue?”

  Bethany sat up straight, the model of an obedient student.

  “A talent can be upgraded by obtaining a second copy of that talent. That’s why Rocky’s Healer’s Touch was elevated from common to rare, and why he was able to save you. The upgraded talent accelerated his healing, made it more efficient, and allowed him to heal a wider range of injuries. If he upgrades it again, he may very well be able to regenerate limbs.”

  “But not all talents start at common level,” Bethany jumped in. “My Hammer of Light is Rare. Gift of Insight is Epic. And Bane of Shadows is Mythic.”

  “Yes, not all talents begin a common level. It depends on how powerful, and how rare, they are. Which rarity you receive depends upon a number of factors, such as the challenge level of the arena, the actions of the player within the arena, and, frankly, how entertaining it will be for the gods to gift a particular talent. Omoikane’s decision to gift you mythic-level Bane of Shadows, on the other hand, was the godly equivalent of a middle finger directed towards Ah Puch.”

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  “But why? What does the talent do?” prompted Bethany.

  “It’s a passive talent,” Diane explained to her impatient student. “That means, unlike your other talents, its active all the time. At Common level, you do a little more damage to shadow monsters with ten feet of you. At Epic level, it’s a hundred feet and it’s a lot more damage. At Mythic level it extends to any creature touched by shadow, including fellow players. If you were to fight that Shadowman again, let’s just say you wouldn’t be the one on the defensive. Beyond the passive benefits, there will be synergies you can weave together with your other talents, such as the Flow of Eternity, but you’ll have to figure that out on your own.”

  “Because you aren’t allowed to tell me, or because you don’t know?” asked Bethany, disappointed.

  “The latter,” Diana said. She snapped her fingers, and the classroom setting disappeared, leaving them once again in an empty void. “Talents are designed to be versatile, to adapt to the player’s style. The Gods like to see the combinations players create when they get imaginative.”

  “And the talents with the Error classification?” Bethany prompted.

  “They are talents not designed for the God Contest, which is why they appear as errors. They were created by the five gods who oppose both The Authority and The New Order – weapons for the war on the horizon.”

  Five gods. Oracle. Thoth. Those twin gods I dreamt of after we fought the Impastabull. They whispered in the corner – whispers I wasn’t meant to hear.

  “We must trust Oracle, brother, and place our faith in this human.”

  “To the end of it all.”

  “To the end of eternity.”

  The Flow of Eternity. My Gift of Insight. The Spiritual Bridge. I’m not supposed to have any of these talents. I’m caught in Oracle’s web, and it’s time I learned what lays at its center.

  “‘To the end of Eternity’. Diana, what does that mean?”

  Diana didn’t answer right away. She stared out into the darkness, and Bethany got the distinct impression the child wished Bethany hadn’t asked that question.

  “Are you sure you want to know?” Diana asked softly, never taking her eyes off the darkness. “You set out for the Key of Metal in the morning. You don’t need this hefty weight on your shoulders right now. Once you know… there’s no going back.”

  “I need to know,” Bethany answered without hesitation. “Oracle. Thoth. The others. They’ve put themselves in harm’s way to help me survive, haven’t they? I need to know why.”

  “The Flow of Eternity. The talent that should never had been possible to create,” Diana whispered into the dream. “A talent that even gods would kill for.”

  Diana faced Bethany. All playfulness had fled from the child, replaced by an apologetic sorrow that caused Bethany to grow cold.

  “What you want to know is not my story to tell. It belongs to another, and for that, you must return to your void.”

  “My void? But how can I move from a dream to the void? They are two separate places.”

  “So are two rooms in a home,” Diana explained. “Yet they are connected, and all that must be done to get from one to another is to open a door. You know how to do that, right? The same way you changed your hair and clothes.”

  The same way? I just focused on what clothes I wanted and let my imagination do the rest. Can it be that simple?

  “Just… make it happen?” Bethany asked cautiously, and Diana nodded.

  Bethany closed her eyes and reached out into the darkness, picturing her childhood bedroom door. Made of flimsy material, the frame had been cracked when she was fourteen years old, when, one night, she’d slid her bed against it to keep her father out. Drunk, he’d tried to break in, only to give up when the door held. That small act of defiance had given her bravery she never knew she had. A bravery that would grow to define who she would become and give her the will to escape her life with her father. Bravery that led her here, to the God Contest. To this moment.

  Her hands closed around the dented brass doorknob. She twisted and pulled the door inward.

  She opened her eyes.

  Beyond the newly created door was her void, the great rainbow of cosmic light filling the once-emptiness with a kaleidoscope of colour and life. The stars twinkled like distance beacons, and the threads of light from her fellow players flowed across its sky and out of sight.

  Diana peaked her head around Bethany and gave an impressed whistle. “Wow, I hadn’t expected it to be so… lively, especially in its current state.”

  “It’s current state?” Bethany inquired, but Diana simply pressed her palms against Bethany’s back and shoved her towards the opening.

  “A question for another teacher,” Diana reiterated. “I think you know who that is. Go find him. And don’t think you’ve gotten out of our dream lessons. I’ll see you tomorrow night, so don’t go filling your dreams with fantasies of handsome farmers. We’ll need the space to practice and plan.”

  “I… yes, I know. Thank you, Diana,” Bethany said gratefully, as she stepped through the door and into her void. She closed the door behind her, though she instinctively knew it would be there again when she needed it.

  Taking in the sight as a sense of calm washed over her, Bethany strolled over to the sliver of light that leaked from the entrance to God Home.

  “Take me to Thoth,” Bethany whispered, focusing her thoughts on the ibis-headed god. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and stepped through.

  And waited for Thoth to find her.

  *                    *                     *

  “The crazy bitch broke my god damned nose,” Becka spat into the night. She winced as she gently touched her freshly healed injury. “I’m going to fucking kill her.”

  Ah Puch’s cruel laughter echoed from the darkness and a cold wind blew across Becka’s neck. She shuttered.

  “You will do no such thing, mortal,” Ah Puch said, amused. “Unless you wish to end up like my poor Shadowman, you shall follow my orders. I told you to make a new friend, and that is exactly what you shall do. I have a vested interest in keeping a close eye on this Bethany Fox.”

  “You could’ve told me she was the homeless woman from the Arena of Dolos,” Becka complained, pacing back and forth irritably. “It makes my job that much more fucking difficult. You might have noticed she carries a grudge against me. Fuck, and she hit like a truck. I thought my increased toughness was supposed to make me resistant to such attacks.”

  “Oh, it did. If your toughness wasn’t so high, you’d have received more than a broken nose. Your face would be smeared all over the pavement. Omoikane gave that girl an amusing little gift – Bane of Shadows. A pain for you, but a boon for me, as Omoikane overplayed his hand. That act of outright aggression against a fellow god drove more lessor gods beneath the veil of The New Order, and sealed Omoikane’s fate.”

  “I don’t give two shits about your plots, Ah Puch. You should have warned me,” Becka accused. “How can I do your bidding if you don’t give me some fucking help?”

  The darkness grew thick around her – so thick it choked the air from her lungs. Becka grasped her throat, unable to breathe and fell gasping to her knees.

  “Mind. Your. Manners. Mortal,” Ah Puch said slowly, accentuating every word. The darkness pressed against Becka, and she felt like she was being buried alive. She clawed at the night, the darkness as solid as a concrete wall.

  “Please. Please, Master. Don’t… please,” Becka begged, her claustrophobia subsuming every other emotion. Her lungs began to burn.

  “Make a new friend, Becka. Forge a friendship so strong that she will divulge to you her deepest, darkest secrets. Do this, and perhaps I shall let you hold the knife when she has outlived her usefulness.”

  “Yes. Yes, Master. Of course,” Becka submitted, before her mind was completely lost to the fear. “Thank… thank you…”

  The darkness faded away, and with it the pressure pressed down upon Becka. She collapsed to the ground, gasping in air, and vomited into the dirt.