ORIGIN

The winged shadow that swept down was frosted over with plumes of ice, a bitter fog wafting from black feathers.

This changed, as talons scraped rock, to a crackling power--and then the horned owl paused. Head tipped to one side; toxic eyes narrowed.

"WHO is this?" he at first demanded, and then clicked his beak a few times. He spoke to himself, all the while peering at Sharp as though he could see straight through her, as though it wasn't her he was truly seeing at all. "No, Emuh thinks this one is not its POWER. It is RESOURCEFUL and it has learned to EFFECT but does it have the WORDS? SUCH POWERS REQUIRE WORDS," he proclaimed, eyes narrowing further. "Or do they...? Who knows-! LET US FIND OUT. YOU WISH TO TAKE EMUH'S TRIAL?"

He waited, then, studying the little lizard, inscrutable and indifferent.

The great black owl stared for a moment. His beak clicked once, sharply, in what might have been consternation. "EMUH will be VERY SURPRISED if THIS ONE succeeds!" he barked at last, in mocking laughter. Then he'd taken wing, turning and sweeping off in a rush of crackling electricity and dust into the darkness of his little room--as if to lead Sharp inside. His voice then came distant, echoing from far within. "YOUR TRIAL BEGINS NOW!"

When Sharp entered, however, there was no sign of Emuh.

It was interesting... coincidental? Or perhaps not... that Sharp's fears, imagery, visions--reasons for coming here--had been apocalyptic, filled with lurking, monstrous figures. 'Why' would be seen momentarily.

For now, as she stepped in, and found herself confronted with...

A party?

A number of tall, slender creatures in sheathes of shimmering cloth wandered about a large, pristine room. Everything was unnaturally flat: a flat, tiled floor; flat vertical white walls, with flat square pieces of canvas hung here and there (painted with splashes of abstract color); a flat, low ceiling. A number of large, frightening-looking weapons stood against one wall--spiked and bladed, but wholly abandoned, left standing alone. They looked odd, orphaned there like that.

The creatures themselves were like nothing Sharp would have seen, unless she'd perhaps seen Eleanor or Beatris: with skin tones ranging from pale peach to rich chocolate, and hair in a rainbow of colors, their clothing often matched to this hair. Most held delicate glasses in their hands with red, rank-smelling liquid (in fact, a very fine vintage of wine) and they were cheerfully talking with one another about the impending end of the world. Sharp could pick up snatches of this conversation at once, as the humanoid creatures conversed, not having yet noticed Sharp's teensy tiny presence here.

"...they come, do you think they will use magic, or their claws?"
"Well, Mathian said they used both, but you know how he is. Prone to fits of fancy."
"He was the only one to escape, though."
"Pfft, but what's the point-? Just so he could get to Merialin, and die there, instead? No, I think Thomim has the right idea. A party for the end of the world!"
"Let them come, yes. We still have time to drink."

Should Sharp look at the far wall, to her left, an additional oddly-flat thing stood in it: a glass pane. This was an enormous window wall, and on the distant horizon, she could easily make out churning purple smoke, shot through with flashes of green lightning.

A distant rumble of thunder shook the air with an ominous bass shudder, one which trembled through the ground beneath them.

The people looked outside. "Ahh-... they're almost here."

Silence, for a moment--pensive, afraid--and then someone sighed. "Well, get the fucking music on, then! ROCK IT! It's the END OF THE WORLD, baby!"

Someone flicked a switch, and loud, frenetic music--with a fast beat and a hard bassline--began thudding from the speakers.

The humans began to dance as their doom swelled across the horizon. And unless Sharp did something to change things, it seemed she'd be stuck in here with them.

---

Sharp's Transcendence Trial has begun.

At first, nobody noticed Sharp. She was, in fact, very nearly trampled underfoot by one particularly vigorous dancer.

Then, someone did notice her, and a questioning voice rang out.

"Hey! Is that lizard wearing a napkin-?"

The voices died away.

Someone turned down the music.

Another voice spoke up, hushed: "What the fuck?"

The dancing stopped. A dozen or more human faces were now staring down at Sharp, many with their jaws dropped.

Well... she had their full attention, at least.

Any hushed, amazed conversation fell into silence as Sharp began her speech. Someone dropped a wine glass in surprise, and it shattered.

The humans' expressions shifted slowly as Sharp went on. They began with shock. Gradually, they shifted to attentive, and even thoughtful.

By the time she'd finished, they seemed outright determined.

They exchanged glances.

"Well-... if the talking lizard says we should do something..?"

"It's right, though." This woman's gaze slid to the weapon rack. She set down her wine glass, and marched over, picking up an axe.

Another man, looking doubtful, hesitated before saying "Ahh, fuck it, what the hell, right?" and following suit.

The atmosphere in the room had changed. Now it was charged with energy. The humans looked, for one brief moment, like they would follow Sharp straight into battle against the incoming army (or away, to flee, or whatever their tiny reptilian overlord might suggest). Someone even turned the music up, apparently intending to keep the soundtrack going for their final battle.

Just then, however, a deep, snarling voice rolled through the room. "Preventable...? No. It would never be preventable," it hissed. A man--hooded and cloaked in black--stepped from a doorway to the side.

The humans all fell silent, and turned to look at him. Someone turned the music back down.

He looked them over, frowning--and then at the window, where, outside, the purple cloud was drawing closer. Creatures--immense, spiked, monstrous--were visible moving within, charging toward the building.

"They're coming to kill us. We've accepted that. You know that. We've all come to terms with His Gracious Power, and His Merciful End. We are to serve as Fodder for his Beasts. And then we will have Everlasting Life In His Chaotic Glory! If we resist-... Tormented, forever!" (Somehow, his enunciation made much of his sentence sound like Titles.)

The humans parted to either side of the room. This man--a cult leader, by the looks of things--stood at one end, right across from Sharp. He folded his arms across his chest, eyes narrowed as he stared down at her.

It was a cult leader face-off. A nemesis for the little lizard; a dominator domination test.

"Do not listen to the..." he curled a lip, glaring at Sharp. "...napkin-lizard."

1/3

For a moment, silence greeted Sharp's musical monologue. The cult leader broke this silence, glancing over the other humans before eyeing the lizard with a sneer.

"Do you really think-"

He was immediately interrupted by applause, enthusiastic clapping that drowned him out--interspersed, even with a couple of shrill, approving whistles. "That lizard just fucking rapped!" someone yelled, and someone else added, "Hell of an end-of-the-world show!" A more questioning voice called out, "Davor, did you put... something... in the dip?"

"SHUT UP, YOU IDIOTS!" the robed man roared. He gestured wildly, but before he could speak, someone (probably someone very drunk) interrupted with a reproachful tone.

"You really have to answer a rap challenge with a rap. That's how rap battles work."

(Somewhere above Sharp, the sound of a single wing rustling could be heard, along with an irritated mutter.)

"I am... not doing that," the robed man snarled. He turned to Sharp, and pointed at her, one long and trembling finger rather stereotypically tipped with a crooked black nail. "This is obviously a TEST! He's sending this... this thing, to challenge your resolve! To test our loyalty! It's a TALKING LIZARD! This isn't natural--it has to be one of his." He was getting into the swing of his speech now, and... unfortunately... some of the people were listening. (Bar one woman, who was bouncing in a corner, repeating 'everlasting strife in his despotic story!' with a grin on her face.) "Our options are, we die here--we can't stand against THAT," and he swept the finger to point toward the window.

The Valkhounds were nearly here. Spines jutted into the air. Claws tore at the dirt. Slavering jaws hungered, too many eyes fixed on the window of the building and all the victims waiting within.

The man turned toward his people. "Or submit, yes; and survive! Be changed! Be UPLIFTED!" The man raised palms to the ceiling. "Are you not loyal to HIM?! Do you not admit the power of Chaos?! We can survive, and serve, yes--but with power beyond our wildest dreams..! Imagine what he can create with us; what we could create in his name..!"

The gathering had fallen silent. Eyes flicked between the man, the window, and Sharp.

Their decisions stood upon a precipice; Sharp just needed one more push to knock them down.

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