Newt-Ella Doe-Knott

Isn't it strange how things can change in the course of a sentence? How, in the time it can take a person to tell a few stories, they can change in a way that is so drastic that suddenly, they're unrecognizable? How a person can seem silly and foolish one day, and then pull a complete one-eighty the next?

Two signets in and I have to admit that I feel fantastic. I've always known I was magical – or at least, ever since I was four years old and accidentally flooded my basement. Speckle, the cat we had at the time, didn't seem very happy about the surprise, and he hadn't stopped hissing at me since until he died. But even knowing what I had the ability to do, I never thought it might all lead up to this. Signets. The Guildpact. One of the last sixteen candidates vying for a single spot.

It all seems so much, doesn't it? As though this was something completely in the realm of the impossible, taking place in a world which didn't really exist, written by an author who finally decided to pull it together and give me the treatment I deserve? Although I guess I didn't really deserve it, did I? Who'd waste their time on a girl with a weird name and whose key defining traits seem to be an obsession with a boyfriend who has an even weirder name? It's almost as though I was created to be laughing stock, destined to fail almost immediately. But I'm more than that, aren't I?

The thing with Pete is that he used to be the nicest boy, once upon a time. Before he knew what I could do. Mama always told me not to show him – that people weren't to be trusted around what they couldn't understand – but you have to understand, Guildmaster, that when you love somebody you want to believe in them. You've been in love, haven't you? Oh, you must have. You're a reasonably handsome man, after all, and surely you've at least had a heartbreak or two. You must know what it's like to realize that you were wrong; that all those moments you've shared don't mean anything after all, and that the people around you were right when they warned you about the person you love?

Mama told me not to. Papa told me not to. Craea told me not to. But, nonetheless, I trusted him.

I still remember the day, Guildmaster. I wanted it to be special, so I'd made a picnic all by myself and brought him to this waterfall we loved. You should go, one day. The water looks like a shower of stars going down into a blue mirror, unbothered even as they fall, and there's a meadow so green even emeralds would feel ashamed of how faded they look. Magic must have been involved in its making, because there's no way people could have done this. People are ugly. They would've corrupted its beauty so much so that it would never be the same. And then, slowly, I made the water climb back upstream. I watched as the laws of nature reversed themselves to fit my will, waited for Pete to notice, and hoped that it would all go like I had planned. That he'd realize that my magic was a gift, and that it was beautiful, and that it was nothing to be afraid of.

Of course, I know that here in Ravnica, we think of my skills as something that makes a person better, but it's different in the towns. When people don't understand something, no matter how much we try to convince them otherwise, their first reaction is to think it's evil. To decide that anyone who can use it shouldn't be trusted. Because what we can't explain is horrifying; it defies the laws of everything we know and forces us to realize that the world is so much bigger than us. That threatens people, you see. And Pete? Boy, was he threatened.

"Stop that!" he'd screamed. I'd jumped back, startled, and the water had come crashing down, shattering against the lake's surface as it escaped my grasp. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but stop it, Newt!"

"It's magic, Pete."

"It's horror," he'd replied.

Tears had swelled in the corners of my eyes as I shook my head. "It's beautiful," I'd insisted, "but only if you let it, Pete. Please," I'd begged. "Let it."

But even then, I'd known it was pointless. Pete could love me, and I could love him, but some lines can't be crossed, no matter how much we might wish otherwise. And the line between fantasy and horror depends solely on which side you're standing.

"No," he told me. So I listened.

It hurts, Guildmaster. Have you ever tried to push back your magic before? It's like holding your breath, and you keep wondering if that's enough – if you're out of air now, and this is when you die, only you never do. And at some point you just hope the moment finally comes, but you can't do anything about it because you're so damned light-headed and, even though you see everything happening around you, you can't do anything or even say anything that makes any sort of sense. And then, when you let the magic escape, just a little, the high... it's like you see every little piece of the world, and suddenly it just all makes sense. There are no more questions you don't have the answer to, but then the magic leaves again and all those answers are stuck in your head, and you can't get them out no matter how hard you try. I don't want to go back, Guildmaster. I don't. Please, just help me.

Sorry. I got carried away, didn't I? What was it that you wanted again? A riddle. Right. Sorry.

Here it is: you've heard my story now, and I'm sure you've heard of the other two – of how little sense I made, and how I'd be dead by now if some of the others hadn't slipped up and left of their own accord? Answer this, then. What happens when the people we love force us to push back the part of us that makes us special? Who do we become?

Who have I become?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trezene Cavrian

DID NOT HAND IN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tharius Masveld

CATCALLED AURELIA

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Elowen Maevier

It's a lovely evening. Elowen is in front of the the lovely tower known as the Nivix. A lovely puzzle awaits her, and she answers it with a lovely response. Climbing the lovely stairs, she reaches the top to collect her lovely Izzet signet. She smiles a lovely smile

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lavina Hael

DID NOT HAND IN

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mikaela Gavreel

"Nice place, ain't it?"

The man clicks his tongue, raising an eyebrow as he surveys the towers of Izzet. "Nah, I'm more of a...dark motifs, death and gore kinda man."

I mimic his expression. "Interesting taste."

"Thanks." He flexes his fingers, letting a red ring catch the shards of sunlight. "It's what they all say." There's a look of fondness in his gaze as he admires the gem, tilting his hand from side to side. When he looks up at me, a matching shade of amber stares back, the colour no duller than mine but dimmed twice with unspoken tones. He winks.

There's a sudden chill in the afternoon air as I resist the urge to recheck my belongings.

"Mikaela Gavreel, Boros."

At the guildmage's call, my head snaps back up. Once again, the sun shines off the blue and red rooftops as the soft swaying of branches fills the silence. I nod, dropping myself off the stepless edge of the pavilion and landing on the balls of my feet. "Well, good luck to you, Elijah. We'll talk some other time."

A hint of a smirk flickers across his features. "I'd much rather we didn't, Mikaela."

That wasn't off-putting at all. As the perplexion fades, I fall into step with the goblin. He explains the procedure as we walk. "To get the Izzet signet, you must climb one of the highest towers in Ravnica, Nivix, to get to the Firemind's Aerie. You will collect it from the guildmaster himself. However," he says, "the door into the tower is locked with a puzzle designed by Niv-Mizzet himself. Solve it and the doors will open for you. Don't, and..." He fidgets with his glasses. "Well." He mutters to himself, quickening his pace ahead of me.

I jog forward a few steps. "And?"

A loud blast sounds throughout the compound, shaking the ground beneath my feet. "That'd be the second today," he mutters again.

My chest tightens. Swallowing, I say, "Well, that certainly speaks for itself."

"Doesn't it?"

Nerves begin to sizzle through my veins as Nivix looms overhead. If the towers were grand from the pavilion's view, they're majestic now, turrets buried within the clouds. My fingertips tingle and I press a hand to my cheek, the heat seeping through my skin like a campfire's. Don't act up now. Please.

The goblin brings me to the foot of the tower, gesturing to the stone plaque on the wall next to the door. "Your riddle," he says, and the black surface is illuminated with a series of glowing blue numbers. They swim in my vision, a language fit for scientists and professors. "When you're certain you've found the answer, place a finger on the square in the top right and a keyboard will appear. You have ten minutes. Good luck."

The numbers 10:00 appear in the same glowing blue at the top of the plaque. A pause hangs in the air, and they flicker. 9:59.

My eyes scramble across the code.

(101 - 89)(12) · (9 - 7 + 3)(5) · (14 ÷ 28 x 2)(1) · (14 ÷ 24 x 6 x 8 ÷ 4)(7) · [(895 - 467) ÷ 8 x 4 - 193)(21) · (√396900 ÷ 126)(5) = ?

My mind spins with the prospect of working this out with neither paper nor a calculator. Biting my lip, I stare hard at the first digits, subtracting one from the other. "Twelve," I mutter. "And the square of twelve is..."

I move on, the countdown still high at nine minutes and twenty-three. The next set proves simple enough, until the multiplication kicks in. I press two fingers against my forehead, already feeling like giving up. Mental math was never my forte, three-digit multiplication almost unheard of in my book. Letting out a frustrated sigh, I decide to work in sets. Working my way down the row, I hanker out number after number, twisting my head round the sprawling code. I stop short at the sixth set. Six digits under a roof—I might as well forfeit right now. A quick glance up tells me I've wasted seven minutes on the simpler sums and that I have three left to work out the world's most complicated sequence. My next breath quivers on the way out.

I close my eyes and go back to the start, realising I've already forgotten the answers I've found. The numbers flit through my brain as I work them out again as quickly as I can. 101 minus 89 is 12...

Twelve.

I give myself a mental slap for not seeing this before. I check my theory along the line, noting with a new hope that the answer to each first bracket is the same as the number in the second. I didn't need to work those out at all. With renewed spirits, I square the simpler numbers with what's left in my memory of the multiplication table. Finding the final sum proves hard all the same and I find myself losing stamina as I near the end. My mind flies into a panic as the clock hits thirty seconds, my progress only at the fourth number, resolve torn between an inkling of hope and the knowledge that there's no way I'll finish in time.

The answer was right in front of me. It was stupid I hadn't noticed before.

I squeeze the last answer I can out of my mind as the countdown reaches 00:02, panicked fingers flying out to hit the top right corner of the plaque. Instantly, the numbers vanish. A keyboard surfaces in their place. The countdown resets itself at 02:00 and begins its descent to zero. With shaking fingers, I resign myself for death. I've just reached out to key in the last number I remember, fingers brushing against the stone, when something makes my blood run cold. There are only letters on the stone.

What a trick, I think, cursing under my breath. If 4048 isn't the answer, what would it be? My eyes rove over the board, noticing six blanks under the keyboard. Six letters. Six. I frown, trying my best to recall the equation. Six sets of brackets. Six.

A hint of a smile works its way onto my face. The twelfth number of the alphabet is 'L', the fifth 'E'. Counting down the alphabet, I key in the letters as they come.

L E A G U E

With half a minute to spare, the blue glow fades from the stone and the doors rumble open. Relief floods through my veins as I turn around to see my escort breathing a sigh of his own. "Go on up," he says. "Niv-Mizzet is waiting for you."

I slip into the tower, the chilly air of moist stone enveloping me. Looking up, the ceiling is but a speck in the distance, the spiral staircase never-ending and not a sight for one prone to motion sickness. I turn around. The door closes behind me and the noise echoes down the hallways that extend in eight different directions to the tower's different wings. Before I can dread the climb, I notice the doorless elevator at a corner of the hall and make my way towards it, pressing myself as far in as I can before pushing the button. My stomach lurches. I hold onto the walls for dear life as the chamber shoots into the sky, nausea working its way up as I go.

It stops at the highest floor. Laughing to myself, I all but stumble out, holding my balance with my fingers pressed against the walls. It takes a while for my vision to stop swimming but when it does, I see the door before my eyes. On it hangs a sign, the words 'TAKE ONE' scrawled hastily onto a piece of crumpled paper. Sixteen signets, freshly lacquered, dangle beneath it. I sigh, shaking my head as I reach out to pluck one off. A dragon's impatience is never to be underestimated.

I reach for my satchel. Pulling my pouch out of my bag, I pull it open, looking in—

There's only one signet.

***

"Shame about what happened, isn't it?" Elijah smiles politely as a sizzling works its way into my fingers. There's a sickening thud as his body slams against the wall. "Oh," he says. "Are we getting frisky already?"

"Cooperate with me a little, Karsur," I warn, smiling serenely. "It might really get a little hot in here."

"Hm—"

Snapping my fingers, I let the tips blossom with flames.

He swallows. "A little rough now, aren't we?"

"Give back the signet."

"You know how I like my girls."

"They don't call me a hazard for nothing."

"I don't have it," he states flatly.

"I am a hazard, Elijah. And a soldier from Boros. Don't anger me."

"Now how about we talk this through?" Elijah smiles, wrapping his fingers, cold against my burning skin, around my arms and pulling them away. "I give you what you want and you stop throwing yourself all over me like you don't know better."

I smother the flame, holding a hand out. "I want my signet."

"Well, I don't have it."

Before he can even blink I've slammed his back against the wall as heat sears its way up my arms, letting loose from my palms as I clasp them round his neck. He chokes, sputters, wheezing as the smell of burning flesh invades my nose. It's only when the struggle ends that my arms weaken and I spring back, his body falling limp to the floor.

What was I doing?

In my frenzy, I bend down to snatch the taunting signet from between his fingers, stumbling away as quickly as I can. "Lavina?" I call, my voice echoeing down the hallway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shark Finn

When I enter the Izzet League, I see tall things. Nope, they aren't trees. They're pointy buildings. Buildings like skyscrapers that battle with each other to touch the clouds, each one higher than the first. The sky is not blue but white, its real colour masked by all the artificial lighting that comes from different sources – some from within the buildings, some from street lamps but most from the people themselves. They carry little blobs of light wherever they go. Some wear strange devices on their heads which pulse with blue light.

It isn't really that different from the Simic Combine, only that there are more people out here walking about with their nose buried in something. Back in my Guild, people prefer to stay indoors to do experiments. There are explosions on a much smaller scale compared to Izzet's erratic ones.

I flinch when a terrifying BOOM resonates the air around me, but it looks like the people here are kind of used to it, like how we are used to random mutations of insects and small animals popping out and going into a frenzy.

Just when I am just getting myself settled down into the atmosphere here, someone approaches me. He has green skin and a smaller build than me, which is saying a lot. His eyes shine with the crazed glint someone has when they've just come up with a wonderful idea. This can be dangerous if not dealt with properly, so I scrutinise him with extreme caution. He doesn't look like much of a threat. His forehead is covered in wrinkles, although his bouncy demeanour reveals his young age. His ears are huge and stick out of his head sideways. His teeth are pointy, much like the ogre I encountered in the afternoon. They look like a longer version of and elf's. He looks like someone who wouldn't care much about hygiene – his nails are yellowed and long. They look like claws.

Before I can decide whether to trust him or not, he opens his mouth. "Hi, would you like to try out the first ever mind-reading device in the world?" The overexcited goblin doesn't wait for me to reply before placing a helmet on my head. "You're thinking of – "

He stops abruptly when I remove it. "No thank you, but I never said I wanted it. On a side note, the Simic Combine has already invented this, so it isn't the first ever mind-reading device in the world," I tell him gently.

He stares at me, his eyes wide, mouth opening and closing like that of a goldfish. "You're from Simic?"

I shrug and ask him if it matters. When he doesn't reply, I change the subject to one he perhaps would be more comfortable with: directions to the Nivix.

"Oh, so you're one of the candidates!" he makes an intelligent deduction.

I give him a flat look. "No, I just migrated here."

He ogles at me. "You what?"

I wave him away and tell him to just get on with giving me the directions. He frowns and starts creeping me out with his scrutinising skills.

"Just curious – are you a human or a merfolk?" He furrows his brow.

"There's no need to be curious. That's irrelevant to our conversation."

He looks up at me. After finishing his internal debate, he finally agrees to show me to the Nivix. We weave through the throngs of people bustling about. On the way, I catch sight of some of the other candidates headed in the same direction. They soon blend back into the crowd. We are also approached by a few more annoying salespeople before we reach our destination.

"Here it is! What are you here for?" the small creature inquires. I explain that I have an appointment with the Guildmaster and thank the goblin before turning around to mourn my fate.

The tower looks really intimidating. Its torrents loom from overhead, the darkening evening sky making it look even more foreboding. Like most of the buildings in Izzet, smoke rises upwards steadily from different windows and flashes of light occasionally brighten up the sky, making it look very much like an imminent thunderstorm. It has absolutely no colour at all. Its walls are either grey or black, layered with bricks like the black-and-white version of a fantasy castle of a child's dreams. There's only one problem. I don't see a door. There isn't any opening for me to enter.

Very carefully, I scan the walls of the castle again to ensure that I didn't overlook it. Nope, there's no door anywhere. I walk closer and run my hands along the rough surface of the brick wall. I even go around to the back of the castle to check if there's an obscure back door hidden from my view. I frown when there isn't any. I look up to the top level of the castle, where most of the smoke seems to be billowing out from. How does Niv-Mizzet even get up there? Does he have some secret power that I don't?

Oh, right. He can fly. I forgot he was a dragon. I glare up at the open window, knowing that I can't possibly get up there, even if I tried to use loose bricks on the castle walls as footholds.

How can we possibly get the signet then? Does he expect everyone to be able to fly like him? I find myself coming up with very creative names for that old dragon in my head. Annoyed, I plop myself down on the hard, rocky ground to sulk.

We're all going to die together. Yay. I have such a positive mindset.

I rest my chin on my hand and suddenly straighten up when I find myself staring right at the very thing I was searching for moments ago. I am too ignorant for my own good sometimes. Sighing, I get to my hands and knees to crawl towards the small flap cut out neatly at the bottom part of the castle wall. It blends right in with the rest of the wall, it being grey and rough. What a lovely door.

I place my hand on the flap. The moment my skin comes into contact, the door turns into an LED screen.

'GLAD YOU HAVE FOUND ME,' it displays.

"I'm glad too," I smile at it. "Cool – we have something in common!!"

'-.-' It gives me a flat look.

"What? I was just – "

'SHUT UP. DON'T WASTE MY BATTERY. GUESS THE PASSWORD IN THREE TRIES TO ENTER,' it interrupts.

"Uh, password?"

'YES, PASSWORD,' it confirms.

"No, I meant: is the password 'password'?"

'PROCESSING...

THE PASSWORD IS INCORRECT.'

I frown. "Give me a clue. I mean, you can't just ask me to guess the password in three guesses without giving me a clue of any sort! That's suicidal!" I complain.

'I DIDN'T CATCH YOUR ANSWER. PLEASE REPEAT,' it states in a matter-of-factly. I'm quite sure it's doing it on purpose. If doors had mouths, this one would be smiling smugly at me.

"Ugh," I groan in frustration, adding a little eye-roll for emphasis.

'PROCESSING...

THE PASSWORD IS INCORRECT.'

I put my head it my hands and open my mouth to protest, but close it on second thoughts. Apparently, I can't even hold a proper conversation with this... LED screen. What could the password most likely be?

After much thought, I deduce that this must be a trick question. I mean, scientists normally like to pretend that they're really smart, so this riddle was probably Niv-Mizzet's way of showing off to the candidates, like: Hey, I'm smarter than you because you can't answer the question I so cleverly came up with!

I stare so hard at the screen that my eyes cross and the words 'THE PASSWORD IS INCORRECT' merge together into one green blob. I blink and try to focus on solving this annoying riddle, but the words on the screen keep distracting me. What if I fail the third time? Will the words jump out of the screen and kill me?

My heart starts to pound. I remember a saying that my cousin, Pearl, told me once: "Sticks and stones won't break your bones but words can tear you apart." She must be telling the truth. She wouldn't lie to me because all her predictions so far have not been wrong. Whenever she warns me about something like breaking my leg if I climb too high up a tree, it always happens. It's like a curse. So if she says that words can tear me apart, that will mean that the words on the screen have a very high possibility of ripping me into half.

I back away from the door. I have never been more terrified of those four words in my life. Even if I do get out of here alive, they might scar my mind and leave their mark there.

'THE PASSWORD IS INCORRECT.'

'THE PASSWORD IS INCORRECT.'

'THE PASSWORD IS INCORRECT.'

The answer hits me like a bomb. A pleasant bomb. Is there even such a thing as one? You know the feeling when something good hits you then you feel like slapping yourself because you're so dumb? Yeah, that feeling. I can't think of a positive word to describe it except 'bomb'.

"Incorrect," I say confidently. "The password is 'incorrect'." After a few agonising moments of processing my answer, the screen displays a tick. I hear a click sound.

'YOU MAY NOW PROCEED TO OPEN THE DOOR.'

Grinning, I push it open with all my might and frown when it stays shut. I try pulling it, only to get the same result.

"You lied to me!" I accuse the LED screen which doesn't respond. I decide that I already hate Niv-Mizzet . He's trying to give me a hard time before I even enter his residence. I give the door a good kick, picturing Niv-Mizzet's scaly face on it. My leg doesn't leave a mark at all.

I start pounding on the screen with my fists. "Niv-Mizzet! Hurry up and open this damned door! Your LED screen is being annoying!" Of course, the only outcome I got is that the LED screen goes blank, which is somewhat satisfying. Maybe I'd spoilt it.

Suddenly, it lights up again with green words. 'HUMAN, HERE IS A CLUE. PRETEND I AM A TRANSFORM TECTONIC PLATE. YOU WILL BE ABLE TO OPEN ME.'

I stare blankly at the screen for a moment. How am I supposed to know what that is? Is it some type of mysterious utensil that hasn't been invented yet? In desperation, I decide to call upon a passing merfolk for assistance.

She looks at me with disdain. When I explain that I'm not a local, her gaze turns icy cold, which narrows when I claim to be a candidate for the Guildpact, hoping to boost my non-existent reputation.

"Transform tectonic plates rub against each other to form earthquakes." She enunciates every word carefully, as if speaking to a dumb person as she rubs her hands against each other for emphasis. Then she walks off with her chin held high and her heels clacking against the stony ground while I am left to puzzle over her words.

Frowning, I repeat her actions as my mind tries to connect the dots. I rub my hands together and stare hard at the shut door. Then I turn my left hand, palm inwards, with my fingers facing the right. I cock my head and rub my right hand against the other. I blink and try again, my brain battling with the complexity of the situation.

"Oh." It turns out that it isn't as complicated as I thought it would be. Again, it is just me being dumb and the Niv-Mizzet trying to be smart. I sigh and slide the door to the right. It opens easily for me to crawl in.

Today, I learnt two things. Firstly, that I am very stupid. Secondly, transform tectonic plates slide. I note it down mentally in case Niv-Mizzet wants to test me later.

I crawl for a while on my hands and knees until I come to a staircase. Then I begin my never-ending ascent to the heavens above. Surprisingly, there are no other obstacles. The only one is probably the height of the building. I climb and climb until my legs turned to jelly. I have to pause occasionally to catch my breath. During such times, I would ask myself how Niv-Mizzet manages to do this every day and if he does, he would be incredibly fit. Of course, my brain answers the question for me.

He can fly.

Right, I forgot again.

Anyway, I keep going until I can't even think straight, then I start reflecting on my short 'conversation' with the LED screen, which insulted me by calling me a human. This led to the question I've been wondering about my entire life: Why do I look like a human when I'm not one? Who were my parents? Were they half human and half merfolk?

Whenever I ask Pearl, she says that it's biologically impossible to have a mixed kid. She'll give me a funny look and refuse to answer my question about where I came from.

I think about this matter so hard that I eventually get confused as to what I'm supposed to be thinking of in the first place. I get annoyed with myself and decide that I hate thinking because it's a complete waste of time and energy. I stop to take my fifth break and when I finally start climbing again, I reach my destination. My head rings with angelic music and I raise my hands to the ceiling. I have reached the heavens – at last!

Then I catch sight of Niv-Mizzet in the corner of the room fixing something and my entire mood changes. I storm right up to him, glowering.

"Next time," I say loudly. "Please build a lift for people who can't fly."

"Human, that is exactly what I am doing. Do you not see?" He reminds me of a wise old man, the kind that are actually really dumb but pretending to be smart.

I try to peer around his figure and catch sight of a complicated device that kind of looks like a wardrobe with mechanisms and strings attached to it.

"Looks nice. So... I solved your riddle and got in. Are you going to give me my signet now?"

He looks at me and tells me that I'm very straightforward, unlike the others he has met. It's a good thing, he says, continuing to work on his little project. He's getting on my nerves. I voice out my thoughts and threaten to rip off a scale if he doesn't give me what I want. When he gives me a sceptical look, I place my hand on his tail and pluck out a shiny scale glimmering in the light. I hold it up for him.

"Didn't you just – " He grabs his tail to inspect it closely. "MY TAIL! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?" His wail is more deafening than thunder.

"If you don't give me the signet, I am capable of causing much more damage," I lower my voice to make it sound menacing, giving him the evil grin.

He hugs his tail tightly and looks at me with puppy eyes. "Anything for the tail," he finally whispers and passes the signet to me. "Now get out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Halcyon Stirling

Traversing the cityscapes of the Izzet League had to be one of the most interesting things Halcyon had ever done in his entire lifetime, even if it was a tad hazardous. Every single street was bustling with lively citizens, all excited to share their latest inventions and discoveries. His eardrums were constantly ringing from all the explosions and hyper-enthusiastic talking. It wasn't irritating though, how could anyone hate all the enthusiasm and hope radiating in their eyes and their speech? It captivated and intrigued Halcyon. It almost felt like home, yet it was so much... happier.

He had been directed to head towards the tallest tower he could see, and though many skyscrapers were in sight, one stood out heads above the rest with clouds crowding around it. Heading in it's general direction Halcyon took his time really soaking in the scenery, it wasn't as beautiful as Selesnya, nowhere near in fact, but he loved it so much more. Ironically it felt as though the city held more life, the city had a soul. Its would be boring streets turned lively and bustling because of the people in it.

In no time, Halcyon found himself at the base of the tower. From what he gathered, the signet was at the top of said tower. In front of him were a pair of grand doors, embellished with gold and silver. When he went to try and open the door, he found that they were locked. Suddenly, a voice came out of nowhere.

"What you seek is atop this tower in the hands of the master. His only requirement for you is to win a simple game before you are allowed to scale the tower and obtain it. Do you accept this challenge."

"Of course."

"Good."

Immediately, Halcyon was teleported into a room. Two other men were sat next to him, and an old man in front of him, presenting to halcyon and the other two five hats, two white and three black.

The old man said, "This is a completely fair test to see which in the three of you is the best logician. Here is the game: In complete darkness, I will put one of these hats on each of your heads. Then I will hide the other two hats and turn the lights on. The first one to figure out what colour hat you have on wins. The winner will proceed to receive the signet. As for the other two, expect a big bang."

With his life at stake, Halcyon watched as his vision literally turned back. He knew that there were other people on the same quest as himself, two from each guild to be exact. He didn't realise he would be pitted against some of them though.

Shaking his head slightly, he realised he would have to start thinking about the logic behind this game. Two white... three black... a fair test. It was all too much for his brain to handle. He started breathing rapidly, hands growing clammy. The feeling of the hat sinking onto his head didn't help at all. Through all of the panic though, his mind was still whirring away, the mad Simic scientist imbedded in his blood surfacing once more.

All of a sudden, like a match in a pitch black room, the answer appeared in his mind. This was a fair test, meaning the three of them had to have the same chance of winning. If two white hats had been given and one black, the one with the black hat would see two white hats and immediately know he had a black hat.

If there were two black hats and one white hat, the two with the black hats had a definite advantage. Since they would see a black hat and a white hat, and the man he sees with the black hat doesn't react as he would in the first situation where there are two white hats, he knows immediately that he himself has a black hat. However, the man with the white hat on would have no way to get a solidified answer.

The only way this could be a fair test would be if all three of them had black hats.

Before the lights even came back on, Halcyon announced clear and unwaveringly despite all his nerves, "I am wearing a black hat!"

"You are correct."

With those three simple words, Halcyon was teleported back to the door.

"You are worthy of the Izzet signet, young one," said the voice he had first heard when he approached the door, "The Master is waiting for you."

Shaking, whether it was from the excitement of getting his third signet or the terror of being at the very brink of death he truly could not tell, Halcyon pushed open the doors, a set of stairs awaiting him.