And then he saw himself, up to his knees in a lake of fire. He was naked, and bleeding from many open sores. A man in shining armor towered over him, his very skin wreathed in flame, his movements trailing shadow. Removing his helmet, this tormenter looked up from the vision and straight into Darius’s eyes. It was him, only stronger, more faithful. Darius cried out, and he tore his eyes away from the sight. Kicking his foot, he scattered the fire, ending its heat. In the sudden silence, a distant wolf howled.

“You must choose,” Velixar said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Only two fates await you, and you have seen them both. Pretend to wisdom, or bow to those with understanding. You will cleanse, or be the tormented. There is no other fate left.”

Velixar stood, stepped into the shadows of the forest, and then was gone. Darius sat there, feeling drained. Everything else he’d seen was already fading from his mind, all but that last image of himself-both versions. They stared up at him, one in pain, one lost in ecstasy. He could almost imagine them pleading for him to make the right choice…

Darius fell to his knees, bowed his head, and cried tears to his god. He begged for wisdom, he begged for guidance, but all he heard was the silence and the distant cry of a wolf.

2

Jerico stirred as blinding light hurt his eyes. Blocking it with a hand, he tried to decipher who stood at the door.

“To your feet, paladin,” he heard Kaide say.