“Tell him to slow down,” said Leonis, pressing a hand to his brow. “That… that can’t be right.”
Scorio felt his soul tremble at the gulfs of time being revealed to him. He’d been at this for almost a thousand years? Stupefied, he could only stare as the distant figure lowered his arms and handed his sword and shield to an attendant.
“You have my boundless love and sympathy. In due time, you shall learn the whys and wheres, the hows and what fors of it all. You shall learn about yourself, for there are records and ways to determine your history. Many of you have kept journals over the centuries or left belongings and weapons in secure compartments for you to inherit once you are yourself again. Everything will be explained. But know this.”
The silence in the massive basilica ached. Each youth on their gem-encrusted bier leaned forward, eyes wide, listening, waiting, hungering for the chancellor’s next words.
Scorio leaned forward with them.
“Know, my friends, that you are special. You are part of a renowned company called the Great Souls, an elect group of heroes in whose breast beats an Igneous Heart. In time you shall set your Heart aflame once more, and when you do, you shall awaken great powers and abilities that will serve you in the coming wars. Abilities that will make the challenges you met in the Gauntlet seem insignificant!”
His words hung in the air, and Scorio thought he heard a deep longing, saw in the faces of the instructors and other people on the stage a wistful yearning.
The chancellor sighed and smiled. “Fear not. We shall guide you through this process, teach you how to harness your talents anew, and strive to set the wisdom accrued over the centuries at your service. You shall be taken care of, you shall be nurtured, guided, and taught everything you need to know. And I promise you, a day will come when you stand tall, yourselves once more, proud to be a Great Soul in the service of Bastion, proud of the contract you made with the Archspire, and ready once more to fight for humanity and destroy the very Pit of hell itself!”
The chancellor’s words rang across the basilica, and Scorio, despite his anger and resentment, thrilled at their promise. Great powers? An Igneous Heart? Was that the lump of obsidian he’d sensed within him at the last?
“But for now, let us deal in practicalities.” The chancellor’s tone became businesslike. “You entered the Gauntlet in groups of four and did your level best to progress as far as you could. This is an ancient test, and used to measure your current incarnation’s resolve, ability, and luck. Your progress has been recorded, from the astounding three Great Souls who made it into the fifth chamber down to each of you who died with an iron bolt to the chest.”
Scorio fought to keep his features hard, to betray no emotion, but couldn’t deny the shock—three people had made it past the tilting hallway? After passing through the hall of slashing blades? How was that even possible?
“Now! No matter how far you got, feel no shame. You attempted the Gauntlet without any of your native powers, so it was inevitable that you would die quickly and badly. Of the four hundred and twelve that entered, a hundred and seventy-five died to the bolt trap. So if your attempt ended there, comfort yourself with the fact that you are in good company.”
Scorio glanced back to where Asha sat on her bier, arms wrapped around her shins. She stared stonily forward, clearly not comforted by the chancellor’s words.
“Two hundred and thirty-seven of you progressed to the second chamber. I’ll have you know that’s where I myself died during my current incarnation. There another hundred and forty-eight perished, leaving only eighty-nine Great Souls to progress to the third trial. If you are one of those that entered the Hall of Blades, you should rightly feel proud.”
“I just feel nauseous,” muttered Lianshi.
Leonis rubbed his hand back and forth across his bearded chin. “That grates. I don’t recall my past, but I know I wasn’t used to losing.”
“It was because of you that we survived,” said Scorio firmly. “We’d have all died there without you.”
“Hmm.” Leonis considered. “Fair enough. I feel better.”
“The Hall of Blades claimed sixty-three lives. Even our best rarely make it beyond that fell room. But this time twenty-six of you managed to persevere against the odds. Just about six percent of all who entered the Gauntlet. Incredible. Well done.”
“How far did you both get?” murmured Leonis, glancing at them from under his bushy brows.
“That’s where I died,” whispered Lianshi. “Scorio got one further.”
“You did? Scrawny little guy like you?” Leonis pretended disbelief. “This world couldn’t be any more shocking.”
Scorio just shook his head ruefully.
“Normally my accounting ends here. The Chamber of Balance has historically felled everyone who enters its confines. But not this time. Three of you managed to pass through into the fifth chamber, where their journey came to a uniformly swift and very final end. Still, your instructors, the academy staff, and even myself are awed by this accomplishment. It has been twenty-seven years since an unpowered Great Soul, whom we commonly refer to as a ‘Char,’ has made it to the fifth chamber, and for three of you to do so is an incredible auspicious achievement. I look forward to meeting these three exemplars and learning which great heroes the Archspire has seen fit to return to our ranks.”
The chancellor linked his hands before him and beamed as the Great Souls turned to study each other.
“A final note before we introduce you to the Revelator. The Gauntlet serves as a gauge of your current power and progress. But this is not the only time you shall attempt to penetrate its depths. The next time, however, you shall be armed with powers and abilities that will tilt the odds in your favor. Of course, the rooms get progressively more difficult the deeper you go. For your personal accounting, you earn a point for each room you managed to enter. Thus three of you earned five points in all, while the twenty-three who died in the Chamber of Balance earned four, and so forth. There is also a team score, which is the average of all four entrants. Heroism is not measured only by selfish success—your team’s average will give us great insight into your ability to work with others.”
“So,” whispered Lianshi. “Four, seven, nine—we got ten divided by four as our team average. Two point five. Is that good?”
“Better than what I got,” said Leonis. “Not sure how seriously I’m going to take this grading system.”
“They make it sound like a game,” muttered Scorio, rubbing at his leg where the flesh of his thigh had been sheared off.
The chancellor spoke over the hubbub that had ensued. “Also, I am always asked by curious students as to the total number of points that may be earned, and the answer, as best we can determine, is a thousand four hundred and forty.”
“A thousand…” croaked Lianshi.
“I quit,” said Leonis, tone matter of fact.
Murmurs and groans had sounded from across the breadth of the crowd, which seemed to greatly amuse the chancellor, who raised his hands genially for silence. “Know that later rooms are worth incrementally more points. The first five you passed through are worth a single point, but the sixth through the tenth chamber are worth five each. The eleventh? Ten, and so forth, though the very last rooms break this formula. But no matter. All you need know is that you have begun your path toward greatness, and this first reckoning in the Gauntlet will be the yardstick by which you measure all your future growth.”
“Somebody do the math,” said Leonis to nobody in particular.