For as long as I could remember before the Trials, we were raised to believe we would inherit His Gift, if only we were to prove ourselves worthy of it. We were reminded at every turn that our cohort held the hopes of all generations before, and that our strength and swiftness was deteriorating with each generation’s completion of the Trials. It was up to the six of us to prove that our village still remained Worthy. To offer ourselves up so that He may return with His Blessing.

He was said to appear from a Rift in the heavens: a single Eye, all-seeing, all-knowing. Ceaseless, eternal, His hunger was our Blessing. To prove ourselves worthy of His Knowledge and Gifts, we were faced with the Trials of Logic and Word, Brush and Brawn, Travel and Culture, and Crafting and Spirit. Those who made it through would be faced with one final Trial, and then, should they prove Worthy, upon its completion would be Blessed. We were told that we would bear witness to His greatness and be lifted to His embrace, and He would return to bestow His Gifts unto His new Champion – and then to Bless our village, the faithful who awaited Him.

But He never came. Not for my mother, who never returned after completing her Trials. Not for me, who completed the Trials with ease. Not for my friends, who sat with me atop the mountain as dawn broke. I still remember Titus’s words as clearly as though he stands next to me now:

“He’s not coming, is he? We’re doomed, aren’t we?”

We sat in silence. After some time, I told him to record what he’d said. He and Palma stared at me; though I had yet to take the vow of silence I would later in life, I used my words sparingly even then. Perhaps they were surprised I had spoken at all. Perhaps they were shocked at what I had said. To this day, I still wonder. I have made peace with never knowing.

He wrote in the margin of the scroll we found at the end of the Trials. Word-for-word. Something in Palma must have broken then, watching the trembling in Titus’s feathers; for she stormed up to him, and laughed. It was unlike her – she feared the Trials more than any of us. And yet she snatched the quill from Titus in a surge of energy and confidence we had never known from her, and wrote her final message:

CLEARLY not for YOU. BEHOLD: PALMA, WORTHIEST of the GIFT!

I will never forget what happened next. The final Trial: to release oneself to the skies, and allow His Gift to carry you to Him.

Palma did not receive the Gift.

We watched in horror as not the sky, but gravity, carried her. It dawned on us then just what we had been sentenced to. We realised that what we believed to be our birthright had slipped uncontrollably from between our feathers, and that all we had been told was a lie.

Fly, flee, and forget. These were my final words to all who came after me, and I bid them once more to all who will read this letter. May Palma’s bones have returned to the earth, alongside my mother Tiberia’s and all who came before and after. May their spirits have found rest far from their Gourmandizer’s all-devouring maw. May Titus have found the peace that always eluded me. May I be forgiven for my part in perpetuating the Trials, and for giving inadvertent hope to those who will never see its fruits.

Fly, flee, and forget. His false Gifts were never worth the freedom we believed was our punishment.

- Tullia, child of Tiberia, fugitive of the Gourmandizer’s Will

Fluffy altocumulus blanketed the sky all morning long. Teff certainly appreciated the warm weather they ushered in. I caught him out of his pen rolling in the fields three separate times. Heavy grey nimbostratus started overtaking the horizon this evening. Has me worried that the festivities tomorrow might be rained out! As long as I have a chance to catch up with Roxy and hear all about her backpacking trip!

The month of Swimming, Day 30:

We saw a sprinkling of rain, but not nearly enough to slow down the celebrations! What a day. My back still aches from the tumble I took cheese rolling, but the Neopoints I won help alleviate the pain. Roxy and I spent hours reminiscing about hunting Dargoyles together and bringing each other up to speed on the last few months. She’s had some real adventures exploring the wilds. Sometimes I wish I had struck out on my own too, but I never could have sold off the farm after Pa passed. Oh, and the sky was spotted with cirrocumulus clouds today! Weather stayed fair most of the day, but a cold front left the night unusually chilly. Teff noticed too. The little terror kept bleating until I bundled him up with an extra blanket.

The month of Hiding, Day 31:

Spied mammatus clouds swelling below three great cumulonimbus looming above Meridell Castle. From the size of them, I’d wager they mean our little farm is in for a real tempest. Even for a Hoovle, Teff is particularly moody today. He’s already knocked over three barrels, and keeps hiding under the tarp in the reserve granary. Could he be anxious about the storm?

The month of Hiding, Day 1:

Sometimes, I hate being right. Of all the trees to topple, and all the places to land, that old oak had to fall on the main granary. Repairs are underway, but the roof, and all our stores, are wrecked. The rain damage was bad enough, but from the look of the red fur I found amidst the grains, some pesky petpets must have gotten in too. Even with aid from Meri Acres, our main granary won’t be ready by harvest. The reserve granary doesn’t have the capacity to store this season's entire crop. We are in a tight spot this year… Maybe I can find a temporary storage location? There is that silo on the Joads’ abandoned farm. They’ve packed up and left years ago now, so I doubt they would mind me taking a look to see if it’s salvageable… Is this supposed to be a diary, or a cloud journal? Come on, Morven. Stay focused!

The month of Hiding, Day 2:

Saw some stratocumulus bringing in cooling breezes, shady skies, AND a discovery beyond belief… Near the Joads’ old place, I spotted more of that red fur leading to the old silo. That’s where I saw him, or them? At first, I thought it was just the largest Lupe I’d ever seen. Then two. Then three. It took longer than I’d like to admit before I realised all three heads were connected to the same massive Lupe body, and it may have given me a bit of a shock. The creature was curled up in the Joads’ silo, munching away on the grains he borrowed from our stores. He growled a bit when I approached, so I spent an hour sitting nearby to build trust. He seemed surprised by how calm I was. After his worries waned, he slowly shuffled over. I noted that his rightmost head seemed to be the bravest. That snout sniffed me first. The middle head was hesitant, and too nervous to get close. His left head, however, was the most curious. That one even gave me a few cautious licks on the hand after I offered some oats. Oddly enough, despite resembling a Lupe, his behaviour more resembles that of a temperamental petpet. In some ways, he reminds me of Teff when I first rescued him from that negligent shearer.

The month of Hiding, Day 3:

Teff is still warming up to him… or them, since the three heads? I’m not sure. Either way… I’ve bonded fast with my new three-headed friend. Bringing more food helped, but I think playing together really solidified our bond. Each of the heads enjoys fetch, but also has their own favourite games. Righty loves roughhousing, and boy am I fortunate to be built so sturdy. A slighter Neopet might have been crushed tussling with him! Middle has a passion for puzzle toys. I crafted him a makeshift ball stuffed with oats inside that he is simply obsessed with. Lefty has taken a shine to what we call ‘treasure hunting’, which is really just hiding a few treats and yelling “find em!” Each of them may have started chomping on oats, but they can’t seem to get enough of the Peanut Butter Biscuits. I’ve started calling all of them together “Trio” on account of, well, not being very creative.

The month of Hiding, Day 4:

Poor Lefty hurt himself today chasing a sprightly Spyven around the Joads’ property. I watched him sniff and dig under the porch until he scared the poor Petpet out. He was running happily after the frantic critter… until it hopped through a gap between the fence. Lefty was so enthralled by the chase he slammed into the rocks face-first, opening up a gnarly cut. It’s lucky I was here to patch him up, but there may still be scarring. Seems all three heads are getting a bit restless. I’ve been trying to keep Trio entertained, but he needs more enrichment. I was hoping Teff could act as a bit of a companion, but he’s still standoffish. Oh, I saw another set of cumulonimbus today, so hopefully the weather won’t impede our harvest. Doubt it could set us back any more than the last storm.

The month of Hiding, Day 5:

I hate it when I’m right. I couldn’t find Trio anywhere on the Joads’ property today. I’ve only known him for a few days, but I didn’t think he’d just run off like that. I was so sure he would be waiting for me today when I popped my head into the silo. Lefty eager to play, Middle waiting for his puzzle, Righty ready to pounce on me when I least expect it. But it was empty. Quiet. I just hope he is alright. He might be as big as a Snowbeast, but he acts more like a lost little Doglefox. I’ll try to look around more tomorrow once the rain dies down.

The month of Hiding, Day 6:

As soon as I heard about the chaos at the Rubbish Dump this morning, I knew it was Trio. I hightailed it there as fast as I could. Once I calmed Charlie down enough to understand him, he babbled on about how a monster nearly gobbled up one of his customers after she picked up a muddy bone from the pile. I didn’t know how to explain that Lefty probably just wanted to play fetch… Charlie is always cranky anyways, and not the most reliable source, but his customer did really seem shaken up. A dainty Chia visiting from Tyrannia, she insisted that the monster would have snapped her up if she hadn’t darted out of the way at the last moment. I’m sure Trio wouldn’t hurt her intentionally. He probably just got too excited. That had to be it.

The month of Hiding, Day 7:

That was a close one. Charlie whipped the townspeople into a frenzy with his tales of a blood-thirsty “Luperus” monster prowling about, and soon a living cliché was marching through the woods, pitchforks and all. I pretended to tag along, but split off as soon as I spied a trail of familiar red fur. It led me to Trio, shivering under a massive tree downed by the last storm. He looked bigger than usual, so I figured his fur was just puffed up from the rain. Poor Middle had a nick in his ear. Maybe Trio had a run in with the mob of Meridellians? I bandaged him up the best I could and led him back to the Joads’ with Peanut Butter Biscuits, where I made a startling discovery. He barely fit inside the silo anymore. He was growing, and fast.

The month of Hiding, Day 8:

He can’t stay here. Trio is just growing too quickly for me to hide him any longer, and the Meridell people are already fearful that a monster is stalking them from the shadows. If I don’t move him, it won’t end well, but where to? No matter what land I take him to, Neopians will see him as a monster. Plus, at this size, he could accidentally hurt someone trying to play with them. Meridell is no place for him. I know I need to focus on the harvest, but I won’t be able to rest until he is somewhere safe. Roxy agreed to meet me tonight. I plan to ask if she knows any remote spots. With any luck, she may have stumbled upon a place that could be home for Trio.

The month of Hiding, Day 9:

I love being right! Roxy knew the perfect location: a cavern tucked away near the base of the mountains on the outskirts of the Haunted Woods. She said it’s hidden, has a massive chamber inside, and only a few of her trusted friends know of it. Apparently, most Neopians think the place is just a rumour from an old folk song. Trio can grow as big as he wants in a place like that, as long as I can get him there. It hasn’t been easy, but my plan is going better than expected so far. Trio and I left after the sun set, and are sticking to a path through the woods so we don’t run into anyone on the road. I just hope I packed enough Peanut Butter Biscuits to keep Trio’s attention all the way there.

The month of Hiding, Day 10:

We are drawing closer to the cave, but ran into some trouble today. I lost sight of Trio for a few moments while I was checking the map. Before I knew it, a Chia was sprinting right by me, shouting at the top of his lungs with tumbling toilet paper rolls in his wake. From the sound of the growl I heard just a few seconds earlier, I surmised that Righty had terrified the poor Chia as he was in the middle of TP-ing a house. The Chia was in such a hurry he didn’t even see me, just ran off yelling that he would “never misbehave again.” I’m sure Lefty was just curious, Middle got scared, and then Righty got defensive. Still though, even just playing, Trio could have injured him. He still doesn’t know his own strength, especially as he grows larger every day. That’s why I have to do this. Come on, Morven, we are almost there. No turning back now.

The month of Hiding, Day 11:

There were no clouds in the sky that evening. Serenity arrived at dusk. Kreludor rose above the craggy cliffs as the wind gently whispered through the entrance of the cave. I tenderly nuzzled each of his heads, wiped away my tears, and placed a small pile of Peanut Butter Biscuits inside the cavern. Trio happily licked my hand before feasting on the biscuits, unaware this might be the last time we ever see each other. All he knows is that he is free. Free from the screams, from the pitchforks, from the crowds. I watched from afar as he finished his meal and trotted outside the cave. And as he stared up into the sky, I could swear there were thrice as many stars as usual.

It swa a night like any other. Thilnggni struck the gnarled trees in the forest, moans and groans rose from the earth, and the Korbats and Werelupes screeched and hedowl their nightly songs. The music of the night was soothing to the undead Kacheek, and he leaned back in his ragged, Moach-bitten mricraha. One of the springs poked through his spectral back, and a piece of fluffy stuffing passed through his ear as he settled in and lifted a cup of Steamed Ectoplasm to his dry, wrinkled lips.

But then he heard it, tnagmos the other sounds: the creaking of an old set of doors – a set of doors that had not been opened in quite some eimt – and beneath that, small footsteps. Some unfortunate wanderer, it must have been, no doubt seeking refuge from the storm.

Eliv Thade’s dreadful red eye flew open, and a toothy grin cracked across his face. A visitor, he decided. A playmate.

Had his heart still wnokn how to beat, it would have been racing. Instead he raced down to the entrance hall, slipping through nortigt floorboards and once-extravagant ceilings, cackling to himself as his mind whirled with anagrams to tsepern to the unfortunate visitor. “Three steps you may move, but seven letters you must solve…”

Then, there, frozen on the threshold, illuminated from behind by a lhfas of lightning, Eliv Thade saw her: a frightened young Usul, clutching the front of her threadbare riding cloak. Eliv Thade erupted with glee: he appeared before the intruder, smiling his too-wide, too-toothy smile, and ekosp the rules of his home: “Solve my puzzles to reach the weapons within my home. Once you hold all the keys, descend to the basement to lay my soul to rest…”

He then descended further, leaving the Usul with his spectral afterimage, knowing that she, like so many others, would fail. But oh, the fun he would have, listening to her sleov his puzzles! Hearing her slowly descend into madness, just as so many others had! Just like he himself had! And then her spirit, too, would haunt these halls…

“This cannot be!” The phantom Kacheek idlxmaece. He clutched at his ears, he spat his ectoplasm, he kicked his feet and rose through the air, filling the basement with his enraged screams. But the Usul, though she trembled, simply dacwhet him, and laid down her weapons.

“Umm… Mr. Kacheek?” she asked, looking up at him with ewdi, puzzled eyes (which he appreciated, even in his fury). “I solved all your riddles…”

“Anagrams!” Eliv Thade roared. “My whole life, I devoted myself to puzzle-making, to the scrambling of words, to the stumping of young minds like yours! And in my undeath, so too do I dedicate myself, until I can solve the final puzzle of my existence, the riddle that drove me to madness!”

“Golly,” the Usul said. “That sounds difficult. But, um, it sounds like you aren’t really ready for me to lay your soul to rest, like you said, so…”

She took a few more estps into the deicrtpe basement, and held up her hand to him. “Maybe we can say that I got lost, or I failed this time, and I can come back and try again another time? So that you have more puzzles to make for me, while you keep thinking about that really hard one?”

Eliv Thade froze in midair. He stared at the little Usul, and then slowly floated ondw to meet her. She was strange in her lack of fear, and in her kindness and her understated brilliance. A puzzle in herself.

Another wide smile cracked Eliv Thade’s face in two, and he held out his ghostly hand to the young Usul. Yes, she could take refuge in the Castle of Eliv Thade tonight; and upon her next return, he would present to her puzzles so challenging that she, too, would descend into the emnadss that he had…