Long before kingdoms rose and fell, before the stars bowed to gods, the path to the Divine Hall of Anthea was walked by only one: the First Worldshaper.
To reach the summit where gods slumber, they must walk the road of the Six Amendments — sacred trials placed by the Ancients to test the soul, not just the strength.
Each Amendment is bound to a location, both spiritual and physical, representing a fundamental truth of existence. Only those who pass through all six can gaze upon Anthea.
The First Amendment — Knowledge
"To seek truth, one must walk among roots older than memory."
The jungle stretched endlessly before them—a sea of green shadows and golden beams, where light dared only to pierce in scattered fragments. Trees as tall as spires loomed overhead, their canopies thick with vines and flowers that glowed faintly with bioluminescent hues. The air was heavy with the scent of wet moss, pollen, and ancient magic.
The forest shimmered with an otherworldly aura—every leaf pulsing faintly with an inner light, like the jungle itself was breathing. Giant flowers bloomed in slow motion, their petals revealing runes that vanished when touched. The air buzzed with thousands of insects that sang like flutes, and even the shadows moved in patterns that whispered ancient syllables.
This was Ariavela, the Jungle of the First Amendment — a place no map could define, and no voice could speak of without reverence. It was not merely a jungle, but a living library. Every leaf, every stone, and every whispering animal was part of a vast equation, an organic riddle left behind by the Ancients.
Nova stood still at the jungle's edge, eyes narrowed beneath the glowing skyline. Scarlet stood beside him, her druidic senses pulsing with the rhythm of the earth. Liora, the great flying lion, padded behind them silently, his wings folded and his golden mane rippling from the jungle's humid breath.
"So this is the first trial…" Nova murmured.
The Amendment of Knowledge. To pass, they would have to navigate the jungle maze and discover the hidden path to the second trial.
But there was no path.
Not visible, anyway.
As they stepped forward, the jungle shifted. Trees moved—not physically, but perceptually. The deeper they went, the less the world obeyed logic. What was once north became west. Time felt different. Hunger came and vanished. Even memory twisted — a magic maze of knowledge that punished ignorance and rewarded clarity.
The forest reacted to their presence. Trees bent to block wrong paths, the soil shimmered with illusions—paths that disappeared when stepped on, sending echoes through the roots of the jungle. At the heart of it all stood Jubada, the Lord of the Forest, atop a colossal toadstool, arms crossed, golden fur glinting like molten sunlight.
Hours passed. Or was it days?
Nova stepped cautiously, his eyes scanning every moss-laced trunk. Scarlet, silent beside him, let her fingers trail the vines which curled toward her touch like curious spirits. Their breath fogged in the oddly cool air, despite the tropical thickness around them.
Animals watched.
Some with four eyes, others with none. Some floated midair with wings of silk, and others camouflaged so well even their breath merged into the wind. Strange insects buzzed ancient verses, and blossoms sang in foreign tones when touched.
Scarlet nearly stepped into a pool of glowing silver water when Liora growled lowly, pulling her back with his paw. From within the water, a blue serpent with feathers instead of scales coiled and hissed, disappearing into the depths.
"Everything is part of the test," Scarlet whispered. "Even the things that don't move."
Suddenly, the earth rumbled.
From the treetops above, vines began to twist and lower, forming a throne woven of bark, amber, and living ivy. Upon it descended a creature of enormous bulk and calm presence — Jubada, Lord of the Forest.
He was a monkey, yes, but unlike any they had seen. His fur was green with golden streaks, and his eyes were galaxies — swirling nebulae of age and thought. He wore a crown of roots and a robe of moss.
When he spoke, the wind paused to listen.
"Walkers of the Amendments," he said, voice like a drum through the soil. "You seek the road forward. But the road is not given—it is earned."
Nova bowed his head slightly. "We're ready."
Jubada's brow furrowed with amusement. "Are you?" He raised one long finger, and with it, the wind stilled completely.
"Answer me, and the path will reveal itself. Fail… and the forest will remember you."
The question came—not as words alone, but as a resonance within their very minds.
"What is the greatest form of knowledge: that which is learned, that which is taught, or that which is remembered?"
A silence followed.
Nova clenched his fists. Scarlet closed her eyes.
Three choices. All of them valid. All of them dangerous.
"What do you think?" Nova asked gently.
Scarlet's voice came slowly. "Learned knowledge comes from trial, taught knowledge comes from others, but remembered knowledge…"
Nova's eyes widened. "It comes from within."
He looked up at Jubada.
"The answer is: that which is remembered. For memory is the echo of truth across lifetimes."
A moment passed.
Then Jubada grinned, revealing teeth like carved marble.
"Correct."
The forest shifted. Trees parted—not by root or branch, but by illusion.
A cascade of light spilled from behind a towering waterfall. Moss parted, revealing a hidden entrance behind it—a staircase made of smooth crystal and ancient bones, glowing faintly with blue-green luminescence.
"You may proceed." Jubada bowed his head, and his form dispersed into golden leaves, blown away on a windless breeze.
As they stepped onto the path, Nova looked back once more. The jungle behind them was already returning to its mystery.
"One down," he muttered, "five to go."
Scarlet touched his hand. "It's not just knowledge we passed… It's understanding. This journey—it will change us."
He nodded, eyes steeled.
The path to Anthea had only just begun.
As they stepped through the veil of water, they weren't met with sunlight. Instead, a slow descent began, winding into the earth.
The walls glistened with embedded starlight. Glyphs from forgotten ages blinked like constellations as they moved past. Scarlet paused and touched a symbol—it rippled like water.
Nova narrowed his eyes. "These aren't just decorations... they're memories."
The tunnel whispered to them now. Their own voices echoed faintly in the distance—memories they hadn't yet spoken, dreams not yet lived. The path ahead didn't lead straight. It spiraled downward, into the unknown.
They had passed the first of six.
And the legend was only beginning.
To be continued....