Ophelia
The energy in the viewing tower is high, everyone buzzing and ready for the Trial to begin. All of the Sun Priestesses hover around, serving drinks and food to Guardians and the Producers wealthy enough to receive an invite.
The two other towers are manned by either the Priestesses of the Rose or the Scale, and below them is a wide outdoor viewing bleacher for lower-Arc Producers who want to come see the show.
The most crowded screen is Lazarus and Theokleia’s. Guardians of all levels are pushing and shoving for a chance to watch those two in action, discussing them like they’re racing dogs. Zeno and Eudoxia have also drawn quite a gaggle, probably for Zeno’s strong performance in Trial One.
She jogs to their screen with a tray, then slowly weaves through the crowd, offering food, but not taking her eyes off the broadcast. There’s no way she’s missing Eudoxia’s attempt at the Trial.
People in the crowd shush each other when the televisions light up with live footage of each Auxiliary stuck alone in a small, enclosed space.
“Auxiliaries, welcome to the second Trial,” says a robotic, female voice, and complete silence settles over the room with an eerie immediacy.
“Each of you will soon be provided a riddle.
You have five minutes to solve it and a constant audio connection with your partner in the challenge.
If you solve your riddle, you guarantee the safety of your partner and your spot in the third Trial.
If they solve their own, they guarantee your safety and their spot in the third Trial.
Work together to solve them both, and both of you will be safe and be moving on.
“If one of you isn’t able to solve their riddle, there will be no safety net nor scuba mask for your partner.
“May the Forms grant you wisdom in Justice.”
Money is already changing hands, Producers laughing and taunting each other about wins or losses. Apparently they place bets on what the Trial will be as well as the outcome. She’ll never understand the stupid crap rich people do with their money.
She focuses back on the screen when each Auxiliary’s ring lights up. ‘WHAT ARE YOU?’ the ring projects, along with a short poem.
Zeno and Eudoxia have comically similar expressions of confusion on their faces when their audio connection is established.
“Is this it?” Eudoxia asks. “We’re just… solving riddles?”
Zeno shrugs, then he probably realizes Eudoxia can’t actually see him because he says, “I guess.”
“But then what do Icarus and Narcissus have to do with—”
Just as she starts to ask, the floor opens up under her and she drops out of her box and into a freefall through the sky.
“Zeno,” she shouts, flailing frantically before turning face down to control her fall.
By Ophelia’s visual estimation, Xia’s plummeting speed has been slowed to a quarter of normal, somewhere high in the sky above the sea.
She would say the drop is around thirteen thousand feet, which would give her five minutes before she hits the ocean.
Ophelia doesn’t want to see what would happen once that time is up—even slowed, the fall is still dangerous.
She scans the rest of the screens in the tower to see that one half of every pair is being forced to do the challenge falling through the air. And when she peers outside the windows, tiny dots fall through the clouds above the water.
Isn’t that so imbalanced though? Only one half of the duo has such a major disadvantage. It doesn’t seem very fair to Ophelia. That is, until Zeno says, “Ummm, Eudoxos? Did your compartment just start filling with water?”
That’s when Ophelia notices it: a significant trickle of water is flooding into Zeno’s small box.
Well, that explains the Icarus and Narcissus of it all. Icarus falls to his death, Narcissus drowns and, theoretically, Auxiliaries should be able to practice critical thinking to avoid their fates. The metaphor seems a bit stretched, but who is she to say?
“No,” Eudoxia shouts against the loudly whizzing air. “The floor of mine dropped out and now I’m plummeting toward the sea.”
“Oh, shit,” Zeno responds, and all of the viewers chuckle like this is a comedy show. “Well, okay then, let’s not freak out. Let’s just solve these stupid riddles. I have both yours and mine on my ring. Do you have the same?”
“Yup. Let’s start with yours. It’ll be a lot easier for me to think when I’m not falling through the air.”
“Makes sense.”
The bottom half of the screen is then replaced by Zeno’s riddle, which some of the audience members read out loud for those in the back.
“You shine with several million lights,
a volcano at its start,
and no one underestimates
the power of your darts.
BUT
You burn so bright you might go out,
leave people in the dark,
and there really isn’t much you do
when things just fall apart.”
The two of them get to work like a well-oiled machine and a timer in the upper left-hand corner shows that only a minute has gone by when Zeno says, “I have an idea, but it seems too easy.”
“No harm in trying,” Eudoxia replies.
“I am… love?” Zeno yells into his box, the water now up to his calves.
Eudoxia jolts to a stop in the air, her whole body spasming from the force, and the lights in Zeno’s box go green with a happy ping sound. Those who bet on him solving it in under a minute clap and cheer. More and more people wander over at the noise.
“Dude, good for us!” Zeno cheers, splashing water everywhere in his excitement, which makes the viewers laugh again.
“Yes, very good, now get your head in the game, stupid,” Eudoxia says with a fond smile.
And Ophelia cannot, absolutely cannot, believe they haven’t admitted their feelings for each other.
It was funny at first, but now it’s just painful.
Especially after what Eudoxia says happened in the training room a few weeks ago. Like, come on!
“Right, right. Let’s do yours.”
When it pops up, Ophelia inhales sharply. This is her poem. The one that she was working on with Arete just a couple nights ago.
It’s sort of intimidating to see her half-assed work on the screen. She feels invisible eyes on her like everyone around her is aware that she knows the answer.
She blinks harshly to clear her head because she’s being ridiculous. This is just like any other riddle. In fact, it’s not even that hard.
In darkest hours you permeate
through hearts and souls and minds.
You make a man forget his tongue
and leave his life behind.
There is no honor once you’re there—
no valor, humor, blades.
Just the instinct to survive,
damn those who cry and cave.
“Yours is a lot sadder than mine,” Zeno says, shaking his body out as the water reaches his thighs.
“Maybe that says something about our personalities.”
“Don’t be silly, darling, you are a ray of sunshine,” Zeno jokes, and the whole growing audience coos at Eudoxia’s bright red cheeks.
“Su-sure… whatever you say. Stupid.”
Zeno smiles, and Eudoxia face-palms. “Time to focus!”
“Yessir.”
“Survival instincts, no honor, darkest hours… What do those things make you think of?” she asks Zeno, who squints in thought.
“Sadness, maybe? Despair?”
“Sure, why not. I am despair?” Eudoxia asks and then sighs with unsurprised defeat at the red light that shines through her ring and the unpleasant buzzer sound.
“It’s okay, Xos. It was just our first try. We have time.”
“I know,” she says, then she jumps right back in. “I am unease?” she tries. Wrong.
Ophelia wants to scream at her that she is so close, don’t shift gears!
“Maybe we’re barking up the wrong tree?” Zeno asks, and Ophelia stiffens, but Eudoxia, thank the Forms, shakes her head.
“I think we’re onto something. Think about it… They leave their life behind with no honor and no humor. What makes someone forget who they are? Makes them run away? Makes them fend off love?” Eudoxia falls silent and her brows push together. “Oh,” she breathes.
“What?”
“I am fear.”
Ping!
The water flow into Zeno’s compartment stops.
Fear and love. What an ironically poignant pairing for these two pining fools.
“Both halves of the pair have completed the challenge. Await further instructions for the next three minutes.”
Money changes hands again, and, looking around, Ophelia can’t help but feel proud. Her friends are the first to finish both riddles out of everyone so far.
Then she remembers she’s got one more group to keep an eye on. She scans for Alexander and Kallias’ screen.
When she finds it, she’s surprised. She thought all the Priestesses would be gathered around—they talk about Alexander and Kallias nonstop—but there’s only one person standing in front of the television. Viewers and Priestesses glance at him in awe but don’t getting closer.
Thankfully, Ophelia has no notion of respect for anyone who hasn’t earned it, so she walks right up to the mystery man and stands next to him to watch Kallias and Alexander. They’re still struggling over Alexander’s riddle, not even started on Kallias’.
You boast you cannot fail,
blind to all you’ll never gain.
And if you see the things you want,
you fly and take your aim.
When you think you have a grasp,
they fade like morning dew.
You find things, then they turn and go,
so where does that leave you?
She feels the mystery man’s eyes on her, and turns to meet his gaze. When she does, she has to stifle a gasp.
The Educator.
“Hello, young lady,” he says, and Ophelia nods respectfully, but doesn’t move away.
“You can speak, don’t worry. I won’t tell the Mothers.” The man smiles conspiratorially. It’s a charming smile, but it makes a shiver crawl up her spine anyway. Everything about him is put together correctly, but the seams are still in view, like he crafted himself into existence.
“Hello, sir,” she replies, turning back to the screen.
“Do you know these boys?” the Educator asks.
“No, sir. But I’ve served them in the dining hall, of course. And the other Priestesses are rather enamored with the two of them.”
The Educator chuckles. “I suppose I can see why,” he responds, facing the screen now, too. “Though I’m partial to the golden-haired one.”