Cass rubbed her forehead. She sat on a glass floor. The color was simultaneously burnt orange and midnight purple and entirely unfathomable to her tiny mortal mind.

Looking at it made her headache worse.

Unfortunately, the entire room was made of the stuff. Floor, walls, ceiling, all of it was the orange-purple-unknowable color.

In front of her was a table with two chairs. They were probably wood, but the entire scene flickered every couple of seconds, and they might have been bone instead. Again, it did nothing for her headache.

A man—he was probably a man, he had broad shoulders and a square jaw at least—sat in one of the two. Of course, he was also covered in burnt-orange scales and had claws for hands and feet. The impression of draconic wings hung like a shadow in the air behind his back. Twisting black horns adorned his head. Green eyes flecked with gold stared down at her.

Cass had a sinking feeling in her gut. She hoped she was wrong. She really didn't have the energy to be appropriately awed if she was right.

She Identified him anyway.

Error: Unable to Identify higher order beings.

Identify has increased to level 13.

Identify has increased to level 14.

Identify has increased to level 15.

She hated being right.

"Hi," she said from the floor.

He raised an eyebrow. "Most greet me on their stomach, supplicating themselves to my greatness."

Cass shrugged from the floor. Fear coursed through her, but it was separate from her. Instead, she was mostly just tired. "I assume you invited me. Seems kind of rude to make guests grovel."

He laughed, throwing his head back and banging the table in front of him with his huge, clawed hand. "Oh, I see why Perception is fond of you and why Strength couldn't be bothered." His laughter stopped as suddenly as it started. His eyes grabbed her, arresting the lungs in her chest and the blood in her veins. "You might be fun to break."

He shook his head and the effect ended as suddenly as it began. "Well, maybe another day."

Cass shuddered.

"But back to the business for today. Perhaps I should start with introductions. Perhaps you'd like to sit?" He gestured to the chair opposite him.

She didn't want to get any closer to him than she had to, but she couldn't deny it would be harder for him to look down on her if she were seated at his level. She scooted into the chair.

The wood was entirely too smooth under her hands, lacking any kind of grain despite visually appearing to have one. She chose not to think about it.

"I am known by most as Dexterity," he said, flashing a smile of razor teeth. "He of Consuming Shadows and Slicing Betrayal. Also known by many as the 'Demon God'."

"What do I owe the pleasure?" Cass asked, skipping her introduction. He knew who she was. There was no other reason he'd have brought her here. Wherever here was.

"Straight to business. I don't hate that," he chuckled. "Two reasons, mainly." He held up two clawed fingers. "One: You picked up a small task back in Uvana? Did you not? Perhaps you've forgotten about it entirely? It didn't rank as a quest in and of itself, after all. I didn't quite have that kind of power at the time."

Cass shook her head. She didn't know what he was talking about.

"'Should you survive my Temple, present this skill to my representative. Your growth with this skill will be judged and rewarded,'" the god recited.

That sounded vaguely familiar. Where had she heard it?

"A gloomy-looking shadow should have said as much to you?" he continued. "Down in the Shadow Hall?"

Oh. Not-Salos had said that to her after she'd picked Mana Blade as her 'reward' for breaking into the Shadow Hall back in the Temple of the Deep.

"You have done well to merge the skill you were given with your stormborn nature. Tempest Blade will serve you well, certainly." He nodded to himself. "As such, I am honor-bound to grant you a small boon for your efforts." He twirled his fingers and pointed at her.

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A window appeared before her eyes.

He of Shifting Shadows and Stalwart Stone wishes to reward you for your innovation with his skill. Choose one:

[1. Embody Patience: The storm billows without stop, but even it knows how to build before crashing. Embody that patience. Build endlessly, growing your might, before unleashing the Tempest's rage.

2. Embody Precipice: What is a blade but the edge of life and death? Let your Tempest embody this precipice with a sharper, deadlier edge.

3. Embody Loyalty: A blade's purpose is to serve its master. Though storms hold no such virtue, you certainly do. Rise to heights unmatched when your charge or your oath is under threat. ]

Cass raised an eyebrow at the window. "I have questions." Lots of questions. What did any of these choices mean? Why did the title listed here not match the title the god had given when introducing himself? Why did the choices seem to match Salos's Concepts? Why was he rewarding her for this task? What was his relationship to Salos?

"And I have no interest in answering. Choose your boon and let us move on," he said.

"You're just giving this to me?" Cass asked, cutting to the practical questions, hoping he'd be willing to clarify this much at least.

"There is no give here. You earned this. I am oath-bound to reward. There are no strings or tricks, for whatever my word is worth. Refuse if you truly don't trust me."

Trusting someone named 'slicing betrayal' seemed foolish. But—Well. Actually, there really wasn't a 'but' about it.

That said, if he wanted to hurt her, weren't there easier ways to do so? Smiting her from on high, for example.

But perhaps her death or suffering wasn't what he wanted. This could be a ploy to manipulate her. But then, she had Contrary Will to break any manipulation or coercion he might try on her. How effective would it be on gods? All she knew was it was effective enough to give some of them pause about picking her as their primary toy.

"Okay," Cass said finally. It was probably safe enough to take this.

But which to pick? All of them promised to make her stronger, though the details of each were unclear.

Cass discarded 1 after a little thought. Her entire fighting style had become lots of fast blades thrown from her staff. There was rarely time to charge an attack the way it was suggesting.

Option 2 was easily the most straightforward. Did that make its buff the weakest but also the most consistent? Maybe. If 'game' balance was a thing. Was it? Cass still didn't know.

What about option 3? What exactly were 'heights unmatched'? What was considered her 'charge' or her 'oath'? Would it have made her more powerful when she had protected Ahryn and the dragonlings?

Would Ahryn have needed to burn up his soul if she'd been stronger?

Could she have been strong enough to fight the paladin captain?

She shook her head. That was the only time strength mattered. Why was she hesitating?

She selected option 3.

Tempest Blade (lvl 17)

[Gather the tempest itself to be your blade and lay low all who dare to stand before the coming storm.

Condense elements of the raging storm into blades and fill them with your mana. Direct with one's weapon or unleash them upon your targets with your Will. Subsequent blades in quick succession are faster.

May damage incorporeal bodies.

He of Shifting Shadows and Stalwart Stone promises the greater the threat to your charges or oaths, the greater the fury of your Tempest.

Modified by Wll.

Focus Cost: 10 (initial blade), 3 (subsequent blades)]

Cass reached for the skill, stopping short of activating it. It didn't feel any different. All that appeared to have changed was that new line above 'Modified by Wll.'

Before she could ask, the god spoke. "Oh, interesting. I suppose that makes sense, given everything I have seen. Still not what I expected, but that is the trend with you, isn't it?" That grin of his spread across his lips again. "Alacrity will not enjoy hearing she lost our bet. Thank you for that."

"But what does this—" Cass tried to ask.

"Now on to matter number two," he bulldozed over her words. "What you did to that demon boy. Your treatment of your pet demon. As the 'demon god, ' I cannot simply ignore your actions."

"Excuse me?" Cass sat up straighter, ready to fight him. If he was about to suggest she should be treating Salos any differently—

"Thank you," the god said.

Cass froze.

He grinned, the shark-y expression almost warm. "Thank you for taking care of them. I'd like to give you something for that."

Trait Earned: Soul Stabilizer

[Souls are fragile things. If injured, they heal slowly. Some breaks never naturally heal. If left alone, such breaks may cause the soul to collapse or drive their owner to inflict similar damage on all nearby.

Somehow, you have accelerated that healing, stabilizing a soul that would otherwise have inflicted significant damage on countless others. For this, you have been rewarded:

- Increased soul stability

- Increased soul growth

- Increased resistance to soul manipulation.]

She hadn't been given a choice or the option to refuse. But it didn't feel like this was a trap, either.

"You shouldn't need this for a long time," he said. "Souls are not something you should touch at your stage. But, well, obviously, you care little about natural order, hmm?" He laughed again.

Cass read the trait description again, and then again. "Can you heal souls?"

"Can you regrow an arm?" he asked.

Cass frowned. That wasn't a no. That decidedly wasn't a no. Could people regrow limbs here? She'd yet to meet a doctor in this world; maybe they had magic healing powers.

"Can I heal Salos?"

He snorted. "Depends entirely on how you define 'heal'." He shook his head again. "But that brings us to thing number three."

"You said you had two points of business before," Cass challenged.

"Well. They do say I'm a liar, don't they?" He laughed. "Your Salos..."

Cass raised an eyebrow as the god hesitated.

"I should ask you to kill him." Dexterity sighed, running a clawed hand back through his thick hair. "For a lot of reasons. For his good. For mine. For yours, for what that's worth to me." He shook his head, his attention refocusing on Cass. "But I think I'll concede to Perception for now and let you do as you please."

Cass tried to keep her face impassive. She tried not to be annoyed by the casual way this being was 'letting' her do what she wanted.

"But tell your Salos that Ceriven does not blame her shadow for any of what happened."

Cass opened her mouth to ask what that meant. Or why she should pass along any messages. Or—

The world around her blurred, like wet acrylic smeared across a canvas. Cotton filled her mouth and her brain. The lights dimmed.

"With any luck, he will have no idea what that means," the god muttered as the world went dark again.

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