THERE WERE SIX LANDS in the opening trial.
That was the start of the directive given to the Heirs. Such a directive was issued to each of the factions' Highnesses, those with the higher hand, leaked directly by the Directors of the Camp. With this, half of them were certain to survive and pass the trial. That was how the Ceremony of Patrimony was orchestrated for this year.
They were given a day before the trial to analyze the battleground, allowing them to plan how to divide the keys. There was no need for them to fail, as everything was already laid out. Without failure, they were surely ahead, and could ensure that whoever was sent from Below would not obtain a key, which took the form of a ring that could summon a key at one's will, bound to the existence of the first to wear it.
That was how they viewed the entire event: a stage play. The stars of the show had a direct pass to the Door, but not the supporting ones. As the Highnesses worded it, it was up to these stars whom they wished to give a key, whom they would guide, and whom they wanted to survive. But they had to give each of them an idea of what lay in the opening trial, even when it sounded trivial. Among the rules, the most significant was: 'each Heritage must at least carry an Heir'.
And so, those six lands came to the scene.
The precepts mentioned that five of the lands could sustain six keys each, and thus, the sixth land was not mentioned even once by the Highnesses, nor by the stars. Each land held one Father Darkness. However, it was implied that he who had the upper hand must defeat the Father Darkness; thus, it was the objective given to the stars, as each of these Father Darkness carried a key within them.
From the north was the First Land, otherwise called the Land of Drought, where the Stitched Man roamed. It was supposedly Athelstan's task to defeat it, but she gave such an opportunity to Maze. At least, that was how Athelstan explained it to him, as she truly did not want to defeat one. By doing so, she found herself a key and forced Maze to defeat the monster, not because it was part of the precept given to her, but because it was part of a bigger truth she kept hidden.
What was given, however, was that Athelstan was one among these stars. But she burned in her own way.
As the two of them rowed a boat to find the Sixth Land, Maze still had only a vague idea of what was truly happening. But his hunch was correct: the Eidolon would indeed only awaken if he set foot on the central land, and he would be prevented by any means necessary from entering the Door, even with the key. In other words, the directive had not mentioned that such an Orphan must enter the Door.
But the question remained: why?
"You seem to be lost in your own thoughts." Athelstan glanced at the silent Maze behind her as she kept on rowing.
She was the one steering the boat, as Maze insisted she might push him for the third time. He simply could not trust her completely. When he agreed to her conditions, he remained conscious and wary.
Maze rubbed his temple. "I am still digesting the information you have given me."
"Is it still hard to believe?"
He could only sigh. "It is starting to make sense, eventually."
Had Maze not changed his mind when the woman was willing to spill such information, things would not have surprised him this way. But perhaps it was better. As he thought about it, it had also happened when they were in the boat; so even if progress was slow, what mattered was that he was alive, breathing, and had almost regained his leaves completely.
"So we are going to some part of the east," Maze looked at her back. "The land where the last Father Darkness can be found, guarding a sword."
Athelstan confirmed with a nod.
According to her, the Second Land, the Land of the Frost, was handled by one among the stars from the same Tower as her, the Heritage called the Wheel of Time in the northwest. Southwest was where the Land of Harvest, where an unmentioned star from Death, who might have already entered the Door, should have handled it, as per a precept. To the south lay the Land of Warmth, the domain of the Child of Sufferance who was the first to intervene in Maze's crappy battle with the Eidolon. Southeast was the Land of Springfield, where the Heir from Hope was deployed, and Maze had seen this giant himself: Gareth of the Heritage of the Anchor, who was tasked to defeat the Father Darkness — that was also the place where the woman had found Maze hurling stones at a pond. Lastly, to the northeast, was the Land of the Mists.
Maze had concluded the five lands were representations of seasons, but the sixth season in question was an enigma to him. Even without the mention of the Sixth Land in the directive, the other Heirs had respected the order from the higher-ups and did not become curious as to what lay there.
Except for them.
A lone Heir, and an Orphan Child.
"You seem to be doubting my intelligence." Athelstan scoffed, the sound sharp against the mellow dip of the oars. "Need I be clear, I have not even told you everything yet."
Which was the truth—
Like the thick sludge of the swamp.
Or the weight in every effort to steer.
Or the ripples that faded with thought, with the boat unnerved in motion, born to nudge against the crimson water, with time's steady tick, a splash, then row, then brush — where the oars fell silent, and so too . . . the ill-fated conspiracies.
In point of fact, one of those truths was how this woman had known he bore a mark, and what she knew of his master. Yet she kept that knowledge close, feeding his curiosity like a slow-burning wick. Otherwise, he would not have followed her a second time, let alone be driven toward a third push.
Maze felt a chill.
Indeed, she was a freak of a lone Heir.
However, if he mused over it, there remained unresolved, persistent faults.
"About this whole directive setup."
"Have some inquiries?"
"Well, the precepts given . . . I wonder if they are fully accurate. I feel that there is something amiss."
Athelstan went quiet, perhaps waiting for his assumption to be laid bare.
Thence, he let the cat out of the bag.
"Even with this briefing, I fear that a loophole has been found. Even if you said that the five lands could sustain thirty keys, then why did you redirect some Children toward the sixth?"
Maze had remembered correctly that Athelstan had pointed those Children of Hope toward the Sixth Land, not that she explicitly named it as such, nor did they know if a Father Darkness truly resided there. He assumed the only conceivable spot for keys was there, should any still exist. Therefore, she was bluffing to those Children when she told them others would confirm her credibility.
Athelstan's rowing slowed for a fraction of a heartbeat.
The silence of the marsh seemed to press closer.
"For verily, there are." Athelstan looked at the crows which were silently feasting into the night. "Do you truly believe such Heirs could be granted trust, or that the higher-ups repose faith in the former? You could but dream of such a reality."
Maze creased his brows.
"In truth, they have merely led the Heirs to believe that the keys could be unearthed in each land."
"Whatever does that mean?" he asked as he leaned forward slightly.
"The concept of the Stars is essentially the concept of those pre-ordained to survive, Flower-face."
Maze was being enlightened, as his heart thumped with such revelation. "All along, the condition is . . . a key could only be sought by the chosen?"
"The chosen among the chosen."
From the Selection came the chosen, the harvested ones from each district, but in this Ceremony, another was chosen. Vaelstrom had given him hints about it. Yet Maze now feared the very principles behind it. Such a tragedy: that those chosen among the chosen were granted a free pass, while the rest were meant to die here.
Including him.
"But how?"
"Do you completely believe this entire orchestration of lands and geography possesses true existence? The Door is but the egress from this dimension. From my studies, this is a realm cast by the Directors, but whatever dimension it may be, there exists a singular truth for them — one I deem frightening: we are intended to be but pawns." In her voice, there was this heaviness, as if she herself had been mindful she could only do less, and even, could do what the higher-ups wanted for her to do, or for Maze to also be a subject of. "This is entirely a grand illusion," she looked at the ring she wore, "including this."
The wind did not whisper, nor could the stars be seen in a sky thick with omens of crows. In truth, the children were meant only to be puppets set upon a stage, made to play their parts. They were, after all, in a performance.
Athelstan despised it all.
She refused to be moved by unseen hands, and so she moved on her own.
Even when the wind was silent, even when the stars vanished beneath the weight of ill plots.
A puppet?
Then let her become the puppeteer.
"Given all of that, it signifies that all Heirs are under observation, and those of potential are marked to survive, including you, along with those who follow. But not those who fall below the average."
Why? He kept asking. He had sensed warnings from his fellow Orphans, but never grasped how dire it truly was, a quiet death sentence. By that logic, even the moment each one was chosen to enter the Door had been orchestrated.
Not coincidence.
Not chance.
As if they were always meant to be here.
As if someone knew.
Maze remembered what was written on the parchment:
「The Eyes are watching.」
"Is this too cruel?"
Athelstan sneered. "Do you suppose they harbor any concern for those who are not chosen?"
Maze held his breath.
He wanted to ask something else.
"But how do you know these things?"
If they were given the same directive, then all was a subject to act accordingly, including her. But she seemed to be an exception. As much as she was, he could also be said to be. Yet, if the directive was not the absolute order in this stage play, what revision on the script did these Directors plan to carry out?
Athelstan could only ask in her mind.
And Maze . . . could only be but merely lost.