To truly ascend a floor was to commit to a journey, and should one ever choose to climb back down, it would take an eternity of descent.
Vaelstrom had given Maze a key to his room. It was necessary for an Orphan to have a key, but it was not an ordinary key. From what Vaelstrom had explained to Maze, once an unclaimed key had touched a Child without a 'chamber' yet, it would physically bind itself to the subject and become one, which was a fact, for the moment Maze opened the chest containing the key and held it, it became a ring, and at his will, could then be turned into a key to unlock his chamber. However, how it was possible was not yet something that Maze had explored.
Inside his bedchamber, the space was octagonally shaped and spanned about a hundred meters wide. Each wall held a door, totaling eight doors in count. The entire chamber was polished cobblestone, from the walls to the ceiling and the floor, reflecting the light of a giant candelabra dangling from above.
So many doors . . .
At the center of the room sat a king-sized canopy bed, raised upon a platform several inches high, with each side of the dais featuring two-step stairs. Four pillars rose to meet the upper frame, complete with bedposts, rods, and finials, crowned by a regal bed crown that made the structure so grand, Maze questioned if it was truly his. To a shepherd used to a bed that was cramped, rough, and dense, this was an impossible luxury.
Now that he was alone, Maze remembered what Vaelstrom told him about what happened last night.
"You see, there are some matters I could not tell, as much as I want to be . . . er, an impressive senior. I feel like I only give you as much heavyweight information that you cannot, perhaps, digest in one sitting, so in fact, I apologize for such."
Maze remembered how Vaelstrom's dull eyes could not even stare at him, as if he were embarrassed, while the tip of his nose blushed as he scratched his nape.
"I am supposed to be a good senior to you, but right now, all I could do is . . . talk forcibly as if . . . I am fond of talking. Not that I really want to talk, but it's good that I can finally talk to someone."
So on and so forth.
He had many other dilly-dallying words to say after that before he finally reached his point.
"Last night you were so soaked and wet that you had to be dried of your clothes before you were sent to the infirmary. They took care of you really well and advised us to be good to you." Then he became stern for a moment. "Just to be clear, it might be your last time hearing me talk so much that I almost forgot how boring life was when you were not around." Vaelstrom even rubbed his temples. "Anyway, I could feel that I will be scolded for my lack of preparation. I almost failed at my task. Such a failure."
With a heavy shoulder, he left Maze alone in front of his room after handing him the key, perhaps, he became oblivious that he forgot what it was called. He added that new clothes would be waiting on his wardrobe, mentioning that 'the tower recognizes the child and thus prepared in advance the necessity of the individual upon arriving at his respective room.'
Clearly, Vaelstrom could not maintain his talkativeness and had become awkward, though Maze felt relieved to have a senior he could rely on, one who happened to be the same age as him.
After Maze used the bathroom, which was set into the far-left canted wall near the door which he could enter and exit, he put on the black sleeves and trousers. They fitted his body perfectly. Recalling Vaelstrom's words, he could only agree with the foreknowledge of the Tower.
Apparently, he was also cautioned not to open other doors, just the doors leading to the bathroom and the wardrobe (which was only opposite of the bathroom door). Maze quite understood the words. He also think that opening others he was unfamiliar with would only result to predicaments, and so he did not become curious as to what the other doors were used for.
As he rested on the bed, Maze recalled everything he had learned.
There are many things I need to take note of, he thought. They are important now that I am an official Orphan Child.
Everything was still vivid: from chasing after his master to being abducted by the griffin and finally transported into the Tower of the Widower.
The kindness of these people is a riddle I cannot yet solve. They are so considerate, so careful in their care, that it feels almost planned. Even the gift from my master remains a mystery; its true value is a secret he kept from me. But most of all, I am haunted by their silence regarding my blindfold, and it is a strange truth they seem to accept without question.
How many times must he be anxious about this fact?
They know that I can see through this cloth, even as it grafts itself to my face, becoming a living part of my own skin. I am certain they see it, but their refusal to speak of it . . . that is a mystery that, maybe, runs deeper than my special abilities that I have not uncovered.
But would he ever uncover it?
To not mind it at all, that is something else entirely.
Apart from that, he wondered about his paths and the philosophy behind the existences he had gained. From the three-fold existence, such as the body, soul, and spirit as one, to the very idea of ascension and descension.
Maze unfurled his hands and looked at his palms. He sensed the lingering agony of opening the paths and birthing the Soul Tree. Even Maze knew that if not for his Phantasm, specifically his Vision, he might never have seen it or learned by manifesting it. It was a wonderful, yet excruciating, experience.
Many things are still left unexplained, but given that I cannot yet digest them, it is best I am left in the dark for a while. Being aware of these things has only opened a world I never realized existed.
The realization that these happenings were real and not born of illusion troubled Maze the most.
He was welcomed to a new life, but the unfolding reality was one that had existed long before he arrived as a shepherd.
There were many secrets lurking in the dark, obscured from the eyes of a commoner.
But for his master . . . perhaps that was not the case.
Master, I have no idea who or what you are. What were you thinking when you opened this path for me? When you wanted me to experience this . . . ?
What could he do—
It is absurd, but for your sake as my savior, and for my previous reality as a former shepherd, I will continue. I will ascend, only because . . . I hope to meet you.
—but to only tell these words to himself?
That is my reason to live, to pursue this future you wrote to me about. I only hope I will meet you there, and we will experience it together.
Maze brushed his hair before he sighed exasperatedly.
"Perhaps I should sleep."
But he, in fact, could not sleep.
He was there inside his bedchamber with nothing to do but process his own thoughts, recalling what he had learned over and over.
Even when lunch arrived and he went to the dining area to eat with Vaelstrom, the senior who was once talkative had begun to mind his own business. Vaelstrom seemed to feel raspy about his surroundings, and Maze found it impossible to approach him for conversation. The man only notified him to return to his bedchamber and avoid anything unnecessary that could lead to malpractice, perhaps an attempt to learn on his own, which Maze hadn't even considered doing since it was likely dangerous, a fact supported by Vaelstrom's own advice.
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When dusk had almost settled, Maze heard a knocking on his door. Upon opening it, he was greeted by the ocean-blue eyes of Sir Azaniel.
The man cleared his throat. "Good evening, Maze."
Maze greeted him back.
"I heard that you learned a lot and almost sank under the heavyweight knowledge your senior imbued upon you." Sir Azaniel fixed his suit before continuing. "Worry no more, as we scolded him for you, but know that he tried his best."
Maze attempted to smile, assuming he could clear any misunderstanding. "I hope you did not scold him as hard, Sir Azaniel. In fact, he has been a great help to me, and I have only been grateful for the teachings . . ."
Though I almost forget some things, I still did a good job trying to make sense of everything, Maze thought to himself. But I could not even blame him for that, for I am mindful that he made great effort guiding me.
"That is great news to me." Sir Azaniel wobbled his head slowly in understanding. "I suggest we hurry to the ground floor, then." He looked at Maze meaningfully. "The others are waiting; they have come with the wish to finally meet you."
They wasted no more time after that.
And he wished to meet the others, just as much as they wished to see him.
MAZE PASSED between a pair of stone gargoyles and stepped off the final spiraling stair, and his leather boots kissed the polished cobblestone. He adjusted his white sleeves and black leather trousers, and a leather strap slashed diagonally across his torso, and a belt cinched his waist. He felt the weight of hollow pockets and molded loops at his hips, yet they held nothing.
The ground floor came into view, and the stone pillars were evenly structured to support the high and arched ceiling. Maze had passed through this space to reach the dining hall before, but he had done so with a haste leaving no room for observation. Now he took in the floor zero, and it looked luxurious for someone who lived a simple life, just like Maze.
Benches and trestle tables of oak sat across the area alongside flower pots and lanterns, and the benches featured cushions of heavy fabric woven with patterns of deep gold and green. Carved animal heads were set into the masonry, and preserved heads of beasts watched from the walls, and weapons stood inside glass cases, and suits of armor stood as statues. Somehow, it seemed the hanging red drapes softened the grey stones.
Maze followed Sir Azaniel toward the living area, which was a circular space surrounding the spiraling stairs, but where they specifically went was at the south; there, the figures sat at the benches as behind them was the hallway, which edge held the double-doors, the entrance and exit of the Tower.
He counted the people gathered there, and it appeared they were not a crowd of fifty, but an assembly of twenty-plus individuals.
If this was the true population of Orphans within the Tower of the Widower, then they were few.
The sight of so few subjects in such a designed space made him question their existence — not that he was expecting more, but that he would like to ask if there were supposed to be as many before.
About twenty plus pairs of glistering eyes turned toward the newcomer.
In front of him, Sir Azaniel smiled a bit, extending an arm toward the group. "Maze, I would like you to meet your Siblings, fellow Orphan Children like you."
Siblings . . . Before Maze could even be sentimental, figures already surrounded him. They introduced themselves in a wave, asking of his well-being; among them were the "great cook Mistletoe," the "master cleaner Ebenezer," and the "librarian Dementia," along with others who probed about the wits he took to defeat his doppelganger and the hurdles he faced before the Tower.
Had it not been for the sense of belonging and the warmth of their welcome, Maze might have surrendered and retreated to his bedchamber. Instead, he answered them with genuine interest.
"I really did not have any strategy," he openly admitted this with a voice a bit unsteady, and then he continued with: "All I did was escape. When there was an opening and an opportunity arose, I took the chance to turn the tables. But as to where this doppelganger came from, I had no idea. All I knew was that I needed to survive."
He even confessed to facing death several times, but as he spoke, a familiar anxiety began to stir. Even here, among his own kind, they did not ask about his blindfold. They did not seem to mind what it was or what it signified.
Maze felt his spirit grow thin as the conversation shifted from his story to their experiences, and the air grew heavy with a shared exhaustion. He caught fragments of their weariness, such as "it took us some time to defeat," and "I almost lost my life," or "when will we get to retire?" It looked as if they were talking about the Trials, and Maze felt a surge of guilt, for he was so overwhelmed by their stories that he found himself already forgetting their names.
They also guided him through the tower and introduced each chamber. Maze realized there were seven double-door chambers in total, excluding the main passage. To the southwest was the tavern; to the west, the double doors led to the dining area. The northwest housed the library, while due north lay the Chamber of Sanctum. Just to the northeast was the Chamber of Refinement, also known as the training hall. The east contained an infirmary, and finally, the southeast held the guard room.
However, those seemed dump to his memory, that he vaguely remembered anything, especially that the only chambers he got to see were the dining hall, the infirmary, and the cogitation area, as the others were only a peep!
Eventually, supper came, and most Orphans headed to the refectory. Maze felt he could finally rest from the internal turmoil he was experiencing.
Just as he was about to depart, since almost everyone was already ahead, Sir Azaniel and the lady Maze first met happened to be waiting for him.
"I haven't formally introduced myself to you, have I?" the lady asked, approaching Maze with Sir Azaniel.
The newcomer Orphan remembered that Sir Azaniel wore a ring, and when he glanced at the lady's fingers, he noticed she was wearing one as well. The lady extended a hand toward Maze, and as the latter remembered what she said about ungentlemanly behavior, he took and shook it as a sign of introduction.
"You can call me Miss Olivia." The lady smiled, which stretched her heart-shaped lips. "I welcome you to the Towers again, Maze, and our sect is happy to assist you with anything."
"I am both pleased and grateful, Miss Olivia."
"You have a way with words, young man," Miss Olivia nudged Sir Azaniel's side playfully, "unlike this stoic person beside me, don't you think?"
Sir Azaniel looked at her with a creased brow before he gestured to proceed to the dining area. However, mindlessly ignoring their flirting, Maze had something he was curious to ask as they walked, with him trailing behind them.
"May I ask why we are called a sect? We already have names such as Children of the Widower, and as well as Orphans," he paused to think, "even Vaelstrom said that this is not a house of worship, and that the God of Widows is only supporting our Tower."
"Well, I might say that is a question that everyone once inquired." Miss Olivia glanced at Maze. "But . . . it doesn't necessarily mean that we are a religious organization or entirely leaning to the occult.
"But think of the Towers as something as sacred as that, since it had a long, long way of passed down tradition and culture, even spanning the time from when every Tower was built. Which led to the creation of denominations, with each having factions or sects. For our Tower, there is only one denomination, one sect, and one faction, and although we are a few, we despise what is above."
"If you are curious why there came to be denominations," this time it was Sir Azaniel as they headed to the double-doors of the great hall, "it came from the fact that even the Towers Yonder shunned us, and thus, having two separate groups for what's above and below."
"Then what is our denomination called?" Maze asked as he noticed most of the Orphans took the seats at the top-center, just near the dais.
"The Denomination of Selfhood, and our faction is registered as The Orphanage." Miss Olivia chuckled. "Well, it suits the like of us. We were called . . . something else from the past, but what we were called was something the Towers Yonder hated most. Which we also wanted to forget, as our ancestors disliked the term as well."
"Then what is it?"
"Transcendence."
After they reached their respective seats, Maze quietly ate and absorbed the food as he digested the information that he learned with every morsel he chewed. If he went back and organized it, he might need to take a bath and lie down on his bed. Especially since it was a tiring day.
Before supper came to an end, Maze also noted in his mind some other things, such as that Miss Olivia would be the one to take over and teach him, since Vaelstrom was supposed to be a substitute for Miss Olivia toward other matters, in collaboration with Sir Azaniel.
Eventually, the trials that Vaelstrom mentioned from earlier that day were not the trials from the Towers, but from an event being held until after some camp break.
Sir Azaniel worded it as: "After a week, you will be learning sufficiently and then you will be sent out to the Camp to earn your key and participate in the tower trials, and also, participate in the ongoing trials held in the capitol. For now, you will focus on refining your own gifts, which will be enough to prepare you for the journey ahead."
Which was the reason that when Maze finally went to his bedchamber and took a bath, he lay down with only a simple white tunic and trousers as he thought of all the things he needed to recall.
So, his recollection commenced.
The Towers Below eventually had three towers, and the tower by which the Orphans occupied was the Tower of the Widower, a tower that is supported by the God of Widows, making him a Child of the Widower and of the Towers Below with two paths open before him: the Ascension Path of Selfhood, and the Descension Path of Orphanhood. Two sides of the same coin that could not exist without the other, with a maxim, if one ascends, one also descends. The very reason that he became an Orphan, and had became a part of the denomination called the Denomination of Selfhood, with one sect and faction such as the Sect of the Orphans, and the faction The Orphanage.
Since it is not religious, and not also entirely occult, then it means it is born out of division, but why is there a below and above in the first place? What really happened in the past?
Even Maze had became interested in the history of the Towers, but it might be something that he would learn someday.
If only I still have the letter that my master had given me, but it seems that I lost it already yesterday, perhaps when I was drowning in the river.
When he searched for his shepherd clothes, there was not even a fragment of it, even a tiny piece, which made him very much disappointed.
Then out of the blue, he remembered what Miss Olivia told him, about the word, 'transcendence'.
It was a beautiful word, indeed.