As a member from the Lucerna clan known for their intelligence, it wasn’t a surprise that Kendal placed it all in his hands.
But neither Jerom nor Malakai responded to him. Their eyes were already scanning the riddle again.
Jerom mumbled under his breath, “Sun without light… river without water… fire without flame…”
Malakai was silent, but his mind was already dissecting the words, bit by bit.
‘A sun without light? A dead star.’
Malakai was what one would call an avid reader. When he wasn’t training or was bedridden from an injury gotten from any of the dangerous missions, he was reading. It first started from books about the art of battle but later expanded to different topics when he discovered the need.
It was a skill that was coming in handy now.
‘A river without water? A dry riverbed. A path, maybe.’
‘A fire without flame? Heat? Smoke? Or the idea of destruction without form…’
The doors in front of them were in the colours of red, blue, and green.
And as he thought, the logical part of his mind leaned toward blue; the absence of flame, the emptiness of water, the coldness of a dead sun. A void. A calm color.
‘Blue seems safe.’
But then a hint of doubt settled in.
“The answer lies beneath the veil of thought…”
The last words of the riddle sounded in his head.
Malakai remembered a theory he’d read once, symbolic logic, where the answer wasn’t meant to be literal but philosophical.
The idea of a sun without light, river without water, fire without flame all pointed to the concept of illusion, a shell, an echo, a lie.
They all suggested natural things that only seemed to be what they were, a deceptive form of nature.
‘Something that seems but is not.’ And in reality, riddles that dealt with illusions were associated with green, the color of deception and uncertainty.
It was a knowledge that Jerom or Kendal would likely not know, as during their time, books were still a lost luxury. Their society was still recovering, and written knowledge hadn’t yet been fully restored or reintroduced.
But Malakai didn’t have such setbacks. He had read too many books to ignore the possibility.
He stepped back from the stone and glanced toward the green door.
‘Logic says blue. But my instinct… says green.’
He turned to the others. “My choice is green.”
Jerom hesitated, glancing at him. “You sure?”
Malakai nodded firmly.
Jerom hesitated, staring at him for a moment, then looked back at the riddle. The silence stretched as his gaze stayed on the words, his lips tightening slightly.
Eventually, he spoke. “No matter how I think about it… blue makes the most sense. A sun without light, a river without water, a fire without flame, they all describe the absence of their essence. The absence of what defines them. That absence is void. And void is cold… empty. Blue.”
Malakai’s eyes narrowed. He didn’t like where this was going. “Blue is the obvious choice. That’s exactly why it’s wrong.”
Jerom turned his head slightly, curious. “Go on.”
“The riddle says ‘free of obstacles’, not safe or true. And it says the answer lies beneath the veil of thought, not surface logic. Things that appear real but aren’t, illusions, were always tied to green. Something that seems harmless but conceals its true nature. Blue is absence. Green is illusion. There’s a difference.”
Jerom hummed thoughtfully. “Hmm… That’s an interesting interpretation… but it’s a stretch. And too risky.” He looked back at the doors. “I’m choosing blue.”
“I stand by green.”
“Of course you do,” Kendal said from the back, arms crossed. “Jerom’s literally the smartest person I know, and you blood-suckers don’t have a shred of intelligence in those skulls of yours.”
He tossed his head dismissively. “I’m choosing blue.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the blue door creaked before it began to open.
The trio peered into its depths, only to find pitch-black nothingness. Whatever was beyond the threshold was shrouded in darkness.
Jerom and Kendal dropped down from the podium and began approaching the door.
“I hope we get to fight!” Kendal said, cracking his knuckles with a grin.
Jerom didn’t respond. Instead, he turned, eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed Malakai still standing at the podium, unmoved.
“You’re not coming?” he asked.
“No,” Malakai replied flatly.
Jerom’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“That’s the wrong door,” Malakai said without hesitation.
Jerom blinked. “You think that,” he muttered. “But it doesn’t matter. The majority vote counts. We move as a team. Besides, you can’t open another door.”
“That’s my problem to figure out, not yours.”
Jerom frowned. Why was this Sanguine being difficult? He stepped forward slightly, but before he could speak again, Kendal waved him off with a scoff.
“Bah, leave him, Jerom! He’ll probably be useless anyway. We’d be better off on our own.”
Jerom glanced back at Malakai once more.
‘Is he planning something?’
The thought unsettled him. Malakai had always been too quiet, and those eyes… he was the kind of person that didn’t need to shout to be dangerous.
‘I’ll stay alert,’ he told himself.
Without another word, he turned and stepped into the darkness alongside Kendal, leaving Malakai alone on the podium, staring at the unopened green door.
As they left, Malakai approached the green door with a frown on his face.
‘I’m so sure.’
He was pissed. The fact that he had to deal with stupidity was annoying. If he had been alone, it would have all been straightforward and easy.
“I choose green,” he spoke out loud, hoping for some kind of reaction. But nothing came, only silence.
‘It was worth a try.’
Malakai shook his head, approached the podium before sitting down cross-legged, waiting.
‘An hour should be enough.’
Malakai was sure the blue door was the wrong one. And since Jerom and Kendal had decided to go for it despite his reservations, he would let them face whatever problem it had.
‘After one hour, I’ll follow them,’ he resolved.