The bridge behind them faded like mist dissolving at dawn.
Tomlin stood in silence as the marble floor beneath his boots shimmered and shifted, reflecting his face in liquid silver.
"Bessy?" he called.
No answer. Only his echo.
The air was still—too still. The second-floor wind had died away, replaced by something dense, like the air before a storm.
THE SEPARATION
A ripple passed through the ground. The reflection in the floor blinked—not in sync with him.
Tomlin froze.
His mirrored self smiled back.
"You're getting good at pretending," it said softly.
"What?"
"You wear confidence like armor, but you're still the same man who wanted nothing but silence."
The voice wasn't angry. It was tired.
It sounded like every doubt he'd ignored since Bessy first spoke.
"Who even are you?" Tomlin asked.
"I'm what you hide when you make a joke instead of telling the truth."
His reflection stepped forward—and so did the memory behind it: endless fields, his father's farm, the weight of the world when no one else cared to see him.
ELSEWHERE
Bessy blinked awake inside a vast field of moonlight.
The Chamber stretched endlessly, but the grass was pure gold.
She saw a small calf grazing nearby—its coat pale, its eyes impossibly ancient.
"Oh no," she whispered. "Not this again."
The calf looked up. Its voice was soft, not like hers at all.
"You forgot who you are."
"No," Bessy said, tail swishing nervously. "I chose to forget."
"You took a mortal name. Hid your mark. Why?"
Bessy's horns glowed faintly. Around her, echoes of temples and battlefields shimmered in and out of being—images of a time when gods walked among mortals.
"Because power makes you lonely," she whispered. "And I was tired of being worshipped."
TOMLIN'S TRUTH
The reflection reached out, its hand brushing Tomlin's cheek.
He didn't flinch.
"You could have ignored her," it said. "You could've walked away from all this."
Tomlin laughed quietly.
"Yeah. I could've."
He looked down at the mirror-light.
"But she was lonely too."
For the first time, the reflection smiled—not cruelly, but almost proudly.
It stepped back and dissolved into light, sinking into his chest.
THE REUNION
A faint bell tolled through the Chamber.
The mirror-field rippled.
Tomlin looked up to see Bessy walking toward him, her coat catching the light like dawn on dew.
For a moment, she didn't speak. Her eyes—usually mischievous—were solemn.
"You saw something," she said.
"Yeah," he replied. "And you?"
"Just old memories. Nothing useful. Except maybe that I used to be… someone else."
"You're still you," he said simply.
"Hmph." She tried to smirk, but her voice trembled. "You'd say that even if I told you I used to be a goddess."
"You probably would've still eaten my tulips," Tomlin said.
A quiet laugh escaped her—soft and real.
THE ASCENT
The Chamber pulsed once, sending gentle waves of light beneath their feet.
Above, a door of crystal unfolded, revealing a stairway leading upward into the starlit sky.
"The Tower accepts your truth," the ancient voice intoned.
"Ascend to the Third Floor—The Domain of Spirits."
Tomlin and Bessy stood side by side. Neither spoke for a long while.
"You're shaking," she said at last.
"Cold," he lied.
"Liar," she murmured. "But that's fine. We'll climb anyway."
Together, they stepped into the light.
The stairway spat them out into a glowing forest that looked like someone had mixed divine majesty with bad landscaping decisions.
Trees made of glass hummed. Mushrooms sang off-key hymns. A floating goat was arguing with a cloud.
Tomlin stared.
"We're not dead, right?"
Bessy swatted him with her tail.
"If this is heaven, it needs a better gardener."
WELCOME TO THE DOMAIN OF SPIRITS
A glowing squirrel with three tails floated up to them, wearing what appeared to be a tiny vest.
"Greetings, mortals!" it squeaked. "You have entered the Third Floor—"
Bessy immediately interrupted.
"Cut to the part where you tell us how to get out of this fever dream."
The squirrel blinked. "Rude."
"Efficient," she corrected.
The poor spirit huffed and pulled out a scroll the size of its body.
"All tamers must bond deeper with their familiars by gathering spirit essence from the environment. Do not antagonize the locals."
At that exact moment, Tomlin accidentally stepped on a glowing vine.
It screamed. Loudly.
Somewhere in the distance, a tree started throwing acorns like catapults.
"You had one job," Bessy sighed.
CLASSMATES IN CHAOS
Mira, Aero, and Selene stumbled into the clearing, all looking equally traumatized.
"The trees tried to test me with riddles," Mira groaned.
"They asked me to dance," Aero muttered.
"Mine offered tea, then threw the cup at me," Selene added flatly.
Bessy snorted.
"Sounds like a family reunion."
Professor Hestrel floated down on a levitating rock, trying his best to look composed while a spirit frog clung to his robe.
"Students!" he said with forced enthusiasm. "Welcome to the Domain of Spirits! A place of harmony and—"
A mushroom exploded behind him.
"—relative harmony," he corrected.
GATHERING SPIRIT ESSENCE
Tomlin's "task" was simple: collect glowing spirit orbs that appeared when living things were "calm and emotionally balanced."
This was immediately a problem because everything here was furious, caffeinated, or on fire.
He tried humming a song to calm a trembling bush.
The bush responded by biting his shoe.
"Why does this always happen to me?" he muttered.
"Because you radiate 'kick me' energy," Bessy said helpfully.
SPIRIT EVOLUTIONS
Meanwhile, the other tamers began syncing with their familiars.
Aero's lightning fox gained new markings. Mira's water wisp learned to mimic voices.
Tomlin looked at Bessy.
"So… are you gonna evolve?"
"Excuse me?" she said, eyes narrowing. "Do I look like a Pokémon?"
"You might if you glowed."
"Try saying that again and I'll evolve into your problem."
She huffed, and her horns flickered with golden flame.
The nearby plants instantly bowed.
Tomlin blinked. "...Show-off."
"You're welcome."
CAMP OF BAD IDEAS
When night came, the group built a "campfire" using glowing stones that hummed lullabies.
Aero tried to cook something. It screamed.
Selene swore the sky winked at her.
Mira accidentally summoned fifty butterflies that refused to leave.
Bessy sat smugly beside the fire, sipping from a barrel of milk she'd somehow "borrowed."
"So, we survived," Tomlin said, exhausted.
"Barely," Bessy replied. "But look on the bright side."
"There's a bright side?"
"Yes. You still have both shoes this time."
Tomlin looked down. One shoe was indeed missing. Somewhere in the forest, a glowing vine was wearing it proudly.
ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE NEXT TRIAL
The air trembled again, and the ancient voice returned, sounding slightly irritated this time:
"Tamers of the Third Floor… prepare for the Trial of Coexistence."
A giant glowing portal opened above them, pulsing dramatically.
A large sign floated down after it, written in elegant script:
WARNING: EXPECT COLLABORATIVE IDIOCY.
Bessy grinned. "Finally, a trial I'm qualified for."
Tomlin groaned into his hands. "I should've stayed a farmer."
"You still are," she said sweetly. "Just with more explosions."
The next morning, Tomlin woke up to find that someone (possibly himself) had signed the group up for something called "The Trial of Coexistence."
The words "teamwork exercise" were printed on the parchment in sparkly gold ink — which immediately made him suspicious.
"If something glitters, it's either treasure or trouble," he muttered.
"Or me," Bessy said smugly.
Before he could argue, the ground beneath their campfire began to shimmer — not the peaceful kind of shimmer, but the oh-dear-the-universe-is-rearranging-again kind.
WELCOME TO THE OUTER CITIES
When the light cleared, they stood on a floating platform overlooking a sprawling landscape.
Far below lay the kingdoms of men — vast, layered cities stretching to the horizon, each built higher than the last.
Bessy squinted.
"Well, that's excessive."
Professor Hestrel appeared beside them, brushing soot from his sleeves.
"Students! Before the Trial begins, the Tower will reveal the structure of the world below. You will need this knowledge for your… long-term survival."
"That sounded ominous," Tomlin said.
THE TEN RANKS OF CITIES
Below them, glowing sigils shaped like cities flared into view.
"Civilization," the professor continued, "is divided into Ten City Ranks."
He pointed his cane at the horizon:
1️⃣ Rank Ten to Rank Eight Cities – the Black Markets.
Hidden between mountains and deserts.
Populated by outcasts, mercenaries, smugglers, and people who "technically retired" from law-abiding life.
Everyone there follows one rule: "Don't ask who you're dealing with."
Bessy tilted her head.
"Sounds lively. I'd probably own one."
"You'd eat it," Tomlin said.
Rank Seven to Rank Two Cities – the Empire's Domains.
Each ruled under the authority of a Rank One City, serving as its satellites.
Stable, structured, full of bureaucracy and bad bread.
Where most Spirit Tamers live, train, and occasionally get drafted into magical paperwork.
3️⃣ Rank One Cities – the Hearts of Civilization.
Enormous capitals that control everything beneath them.
Home to the Spirit Temples, Grand Academies, and the Noble Courts.
Their influence stretches across the continent, but their comfort comes from pretending Rank Eight to Ten cities don't exist.
"They let the black market thrive because it does their dirty work," Professor Hestrel said. "If a problem disappears in the shadows, they call it balance."
Tomlin scratched his head.
"So the world works because everyone's pretending not to notice the mess?"
"Exactly," Bessy said cheerfully. "Like your room."
THE THREE PATHS OF CULTIVATION
The glowing map split into three radiant beams of color — gold, violet, and silver — weaving through the cities like rivers of fate.
"There are three paths a Spirit Tamer may choose," the professor said solemnly. "Each determines how one channels their essence."
Heaven Path (Righteous)
Cultivators of light, justice, and public relations.
They follow divine oaths, heal the wounded, and give inspiring speeches.
Worship and train under the Temple of Radiant Dawn.
Their leaders are called Seraph Judges.
Bessy yawned loudly.
"So, paladins with good lighting."
Abyss Path (Demonic)
Cultivators who embrace emotion, chaos, and forbidden power.
They seek strength through shadow, desire, and freedom from divine rules.
Guided by the Temple of the Black Star.
Their leaders are Lords of Sin, which sounds cooler than it is.
"Finally," Bessy said, "a path with personality."
"You'd burn the manual before finishing it," Tomlin muttered.
Neutral Path (Law)
Balance between light and darkness, bound by ancient pacts.
Pragmatic, calm, and terrifying in paperwork.
Governed by the Temple of Equilibrium.
Their masters are Archivists of Balance.
"So… accountants of destiny," Tomlin said.
"Respectable profession," Bessy replied. "You'd fail the entrance exam."
THE TRIAL BEGINS
A new platform materialized under their feet.
Runes glowed.
[TRIAL OF COEXISTENCE INITIATED]
Participants will swap their bonded familiars for one day.
"Wait—what?" Tomlin said.
"No refunds," the voice of the Tower added cheerfully.
Before anyone could protest, the world flashed—
CHAOS, AS USUAL
Tomlin blinked.
Where Bessy had stood now hovered a jittery, crackling thunder fox with too much energy and no concept of personal space.
"Hi hi hi!" the fox chirped. "I like you! Let's explode something!"
"I miss my cow," Tomlin muttered.
Meanwhile, Bessy found herself staring down a noble student's miniature dragon.
"You obey me now?" she asked.
The dragon sneered. "You are… bovine."
"And you," she said sweetly, "are barbecue waiting to happen."
Within ten seconds, a new crater decorated the Third Floor.
Professor Hestrel sighed.
"Every year I lose more hair."
BETWEEN CHAOS AND ORDER
By evening, half the forest was smoking, three mushrooms were suing the academy, and the thunder fox was still calling Tomlin "bestie."
Bessy strolled over, covered in soot but looking victorious.
"My dragon learned humility."
"My fox learned arson," Tomlin groaned.
They both looked out over the glowing cities far below.
"You know," Bessy said softly, "the world's complicated for such a simple place."
"Yeah," Tomlin replied. "But I guess even simple folk have to pick a path."
Bessy flicked her tail. "Then let's pick one that annoys everyone equally."
"Neutral it is."
The Spirit Tamers Academy had never looked so majestic—or so nervous.
Banners of gold, violet, and silver fluttered in the morning wind, each representing one of the Three Paths. Choirs sang. Bells chimed. And in the center courtyard stood a hundred new tamers, wearing their cleanest robes and their most convincing expressions of confidence.
Tomlin, naturally, was trying to hide behind a decorative bush.
Bessy, naturally, was eating the bush.
"Would you stop that?" he hissed.
"Nerves taste like foliage," she replied calmly.
THE GRAND CEREMONY
Dean Ruvane of the Academy stood on a marble stage surrounded by a panel of glowing sigils.
Behind him waited the Three High Priests—the kind of people whose titles were longer than their patience.
High Priest Aurion of the Temple of Radiant Dawn (Heaven Path): dressed in gold, smiling like someone who'd never paid taxes.
Archlord Velmira of the Temple of the Black Star (Abyss Path): calm, elegant, and clearly two seconds away from declaring everyone unworthy.
Chief Arbiter Kael of the Temple of Equilibrium (Neutral Path): already asleep standing up.
"Today," Dean Ruvane announced, "you will each choose your cultivation path—your future alignment with the world's balance of light, shadow, and law!"
"Sounds like choosing a diet plan," Bessy whispered.
THE RITUAL OF CHOICE
The ritual was simple—on paper.
Each student would step forward, touch the Path Crystal, and announce their chosen way.
The crystal would then bless them accordingly.
Mira went first: Heaven Path. The crystal glowed gold. Angels hummed. Everyone clapped.
Aero followed: Abyss Path. The air crackled violet. Someone's hair caught fire (again).
Then came Tomlin.
"Full name?" asked Dean Ruvane.
"Tomlin Hayfield," he said.
"Familiar?"
"Bessy."
"...the cow?"
"She prefers 'Lady of Utter Brilliance.'"
The audience chuckled.
Bessy bowed. "They recognize royalty when they see it."
Tomlin sighed, stepped up to the crystal, and placed his hand on it.
THE DIVINE ACCIDENT
The crystal glowed gold.
Then violet.
Then silver.
Then it exploded.
The courtyard went silent. A halo, a dark flame, and a floating scroll of fines materialized above Tomlin's head.
"Congratulations," announced a bewildered Dean Ruvane. "You are now… blessed by the Heaven Path, cursed by the Abyss Path, and fined for ritual property damage by the Law Temple."
"Can I decline?" Tomlin asked weakly.
"No refunds," Kael the Arbiter mumbled, still half-asleep.
THE HOLY ARGUMENT
Bessy, meanwhile, had wandered suspiciously close to the High Priests.
"Fascinating artifacts you have," she said casually, sniffing their relics. "But I'm curious—which of you actually reads your scripture instead of quoting it?"
That one line detonated three centuries of theological tension.
Aurion's golden aura flared. "How dare you question divine discipline!"
Velmira smirked. "Because she's right. Half of your sermons are self-help speeches."
Kael sighed. "I warned you both that enlightenment was a waste of paperwork."
Within seconds, holy sigils lit the air—flaming halos, dark runes, floating balance scales—all aimed at each other.
Tomlin dove behind a pillar.
"Bessy! What did you do?"
"Started honest discussion," she said proudly. "You're welcome."
THE AFTERMATH
An hour later, the courtyard was smoking, the priests were gone (presumably to "pray angrily"), and Tomlin was sitting in the rubble with a cup of free tea someone had pity-gifted him.
Dean Ruvane massaged his temples.
"Mr. Hayfield… Miss Bessy… the council has decided to place you under Special Observation."
"Is that like probation?" Tomlin asked.
"Yes, but with paperwork and divine surveillance."
"Ah. So normal Monday."
TEMPLE POLITICS
As night fell, messengers rushed between the temples.
The Temple of Radiant Dawn called Tomlin a sign of divine convergence.
The Temple of the Black Star called him a chaotic anomaly worth studying (from a safe distance).
The Temple of Equilibrium fined him again for "creating theological overtime."
Meanwhile, Bessy's name began to spread through the city as "The Cow That Made Priests Cry."
"You've started a religious revolution," Tomlin groaned.
"Good," Bessy said. "It was getting dull."
EPILOGUE: CHOOSING NONE
Late that night, as the academy slept, Tomlin sat with Bessy beneath the moon.
"Three paths," he murmured. "Heaven, Abyss, Law… and I still don't know where we belong."
"Maybe we don't need to choose," she said softly. "Maybe the right path is the one we walk badly but stubbornly."
He smiled. "That sounds about right."
A soft light glimmered around them—neither gold nor violet nor silver, but a warm, earthy glow.
Something new.
Somewhere in the Tower, the ancient voice stirred.
"A fourth path…?" it whispered. "Impossible."
Bessy grinned, eyes glinting with mischief.
"You'll learn, dear tower. We specialize in impossible."