“Here.” Freckle redrew her map on her knee as the fairy took a vial from his pocket.

  The fairy bent and poured acid onto the grout with enough precision that Freckle couldn’t tell that it had done anything until he lifted the tile and revealed the trapdoor beneath. He blinked at it. “It’s iron. You’d better get it.”

  Mentally, Freckle moved her pieces onto the board that was the maze as she opened the door. Up climbed Uncle Dalice's shadow, and the winged lady, whose aura held no such spot in the color of her husband’s aura, now that Freckle saw her up close.

  The shadow leaped from Uncle Dalice to Freckle and swirled around her. “You’re still human. Good.”

  Freckle curled her lips at him. “Uncle Dalice, are you going to introduce all these assumptive, ill-cooperative teammates now?”

  “You don’t know anything about me!” The shadow leaped from Freckle to the fairy.

  Uncle Dalice climbed from a rusted metal ladder that lead into a dusty corridor below.

  Freckle frowned at the footprints he left, even mixed with the floor's grime. “We’re going to get caught, aren’t we?”

  The fairy reached for his pocket. “I have a hand broom! It’s a standard part of my dungeon-delving kit.”

  As the shadow grumbled, Uncle Dalice cleared his throat. “Yes, yes. Introductions.”

  “Everyone, this is Freckle Grand. She’s a Seer who gives us a special advantage in facing the Trials.”

  Freckle put on her best chess face and remained silent. Strictly speaking, yes, she was a Seer, as by definition, a See-er was simply one who sees, but her abilities were more about being the daughter of a god who had to categorize everything, even emotions, into logical categories.

  When everyone glanced at her, she nodded politely.

  Uncle Dalice gestured to the shadow next. “Gullshower Stripes. He’s a pest control guy who got turned into a shadow by the fey.”

  Beside her, Freckle noticed the fairy backing away from the shadow. It seemed those two as chess pieces wouldn’t make a willing combination in cornering an enemy king.

  The winged woman was “Lifeblood Foci,” a distant descendant of the dragons overthrown as upper class by the New Learning. Uncle Dalice snickered a bit before introducing her husband.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “And this is her husband, who happens to be my realtor, Sap Foci.”

  “You'r a realtor?” Freckle stared at Sap, who stopped and peered around a corner, not seeming to listen. “I thought you were opening some business related to potions?”

  Sap sniffed. “Do you smell honey? Oh! And I’m not a realtor anymore. I’m a potion vendor! You’ll get the potion I owe you.”

  When Freckle sniffed, she smelt the faintly-sweet scent of honey too. “Does that mean something?” she asked, readying a finger to trace a fresh board. “Does the maze have bees too, do you think?”

  “Fairies like honey,” Gullshower said, slipping ahead of Sap. “They’re right little pests who curse pairs of brothers for taking a job for a beekeeper!”

  Sap blinked. “But it’s honey! It’s got to mean something good. Lunch? I’m hungry.”

  Taking him by the arm, Lifeblood said, “Sap, focus.”

  “But it’s honey!” He took her hand and lead her forward.

  As he explored, Freckle raised a brow at Uncle Dalice. “What’s the strategy?”

  “I told you honey means something good!" Sap called. "There’s a door here. We’re looking for a door, right?”

  Sighing, Freckle followed the sound of his voice. “This hazing ritual is supposed to be a retrieval mission. Somewhere, they’ve hidden a cache of baked clay passes to the rest of their Trials, and I’m supposed to take one.”

  As she rounded a corner, she came to a wooden step with a splintering door atop it.

  The door grew a mouth. “Hazing ritual? No, we’re an entrance exam to keep you honest. If you wish to move forward, you must confess the truth!”

  Much like the armors, the door had no real feelings to create a readable aura for Freckle. It was almost as though the New Learning meant to make it more difficult for the demigod children of Freckle’s father to bypass the Trials, and considering how long the gods behind them had been feuding with her father, perhaps that was indeed why no living being with a heart more complex than a wasp’s waited for Freckle inside this Trial.

  Crunching footsteps announced that Uncle Dalice had joined the rest of them at the door, and Freckle looked toward him and Gullshower. “You’re certain I have an advantage in the Trials over anyone else my father could send you?”

  “Through your work outside the Trials. Don’t forget, you’re still dealing with people.” Uncle Dalice rested his hand on the doorknob, snickering. “And speaking of people, he believes the past actions of a place stick around. Of course he’d make this place the trial Trial and stick your goal up on the stage!”

  Sap pulled a splinter from the door. “Oooh! Do you think so? Is that going to make the potions I can brew from the talking door extra powerful?”

  “I’m getting creepy vibes from this place!” With a grin, Lifeblood swooned against her husband. “I’d say it’s potions for the enemies?”

  Gullshower stretched himself thin across the wall to point at Sap. “You’re a fairy! Don’t pretend you don’t know how magic works!”

  Alright, so the two pieces wouldn’t willingly corner any kings in a combo, but were they at least two pieces of the same color? Freckle stepped toward the both of them. “Are you two here to fight, or are you here to infiltrate?”

  Gullshower crossed his arms. “I’m here looking at the traps! If there’s any object powerful enough to turn me and my brother back to normal, it will be part of a magical dungeon trap set by the elite.”

  Lifeshower checked a compact mirror and applied silver-winged eye shadow to her face. “I’m here to put myself in not-quite-dangerous situations and live out my fantasies of being rescued by my hubby!”

  “I’m here to fight monsters for potion parts!” Sap plucked another splinter.

  Uncle Dalice rattled the doorknob.

  “We’re not here to be your cure, amusement, or supplier, and we are not your enemy. Confess the truth, or get out!” The door gathered its remaining splinters into teeth and bit Uncle Dalice.

  He stepped down with a hiss.