Tour reached into his robe and produced a small, obsidian blade—sharp, ancient, stained with the residue of countless rituals.
Rachid's eyes opened, fixing on the blade.
"Do not be alarmed," Tour said calmly. "This is symbolic. A representation of the sacrifice required to walk this path."
He held out his hand. "Extend your palm."
Rachid hesitated for only a moment, then did so.
Tour pressed the tip of the blade against Rachid's palm—not enough to draw blood, but enough to press into the skin, leaving a faint mark.
"This," Tour said, "represents the life force you commit to this path. The vitality. The essence. In ancient times, a drop of blood would be shed here. But we have evolved. The symbol is enough."
He withdrew the blade. "You have been tested. You have shown resolve. The second stage is complete."
Tour gestured for Rachid to sit cross-legged on the floor. He did the same, sitting opposite him.
Between them, Tour placed a smooth black stone carved with symbols—a binding stone, attuned to the Scholar Route.
"The third stage," Tour said, "is Instruction and Ritual. This is where the true awakening begins."
He leaned forward slightly. "Young Master, I will now impart to you the first recitation of the Scholar Route. This is not merely words. This is a vibrational key—a frequency that aligns your consciousness with the path."
Rachid nodded, his attention sharp.
Tour began to chant—low, deliberate, rhythmic. The words were in an ancient dialect, but their meaning resonated in the air itself:
"I seek the unseen truth. I walk the path of clarity. I am the observer, the seeker, the vessel of knowledge."
He repeated it three times, then gestured for Rachid to join him.
Rachid's voice was tentative at first, then grew stronger, matching Tour's rhythm.
"I seek the unseen truth. I walk the path of clarity. I am the observer, the seeker, the vessel of knowledge."
They chanted together—seven times, nine times, twelve times—until the words seemed to merge with the air, with the stone, with the very fabric of the room.
And then, Tour placed his hand on the black stone.
"Place your hand atop mine," he commanded.
Rachid obeyed.
The moment their hands touched the stone, the room shifted.
The temperature dropped. The shadows deepened. The light from the windows dimmed, as though something unseen had drawn closer.
Rachid gasped, his eyes widening.
He saw them.
Spirits. Faint, flickering shapes that drifted through the air like smoke. Ancestors. Scholars long dead, their forms translucent and luminous. They stood at the edges of the room, watching, waiting.
And beyond them—deeper, further—he glimpsed the Dream Cycle itself. A vast, shifting plane of memory and thought, where images coiled and unfolded like living tapestries.
Tour's voice cut through the vision, steady and grounding. "Do not be afraid, Young Master. You are seeing the first layer of the astral. This is the gift of initiation. This is what it means to awaken."
Rachid's breath came in short gasps, but he did not pull his hand away.
"Feel it," Tour instructed. "Feel your soul separating from your flesh. Not entirely. Not yet. But enough to understand the difference. Enough to know that you are not your body. You are something more."
Rachid felt it—a pulling sensation, as though his consciousness was being lifted, stretched, expanded. He was still in the room, but he was also outside the room, seeing it from multiple angles at once.
And then, just as quickly, the vision collapsed.
The spirits faded. The Dream Cycle receded. The room returned to normal.
Rachid pulled his hand back, trembling, his eyes wide with awe and terror.
Tour watched him calmly. "Breathe, Young Master. Breathe."
Rachid's chest heaved as he struggled to process what he had just experienced.
"What... what was that?" he whispered.
"That," Tour said quietly, "was the third stage. Instruction and ritual. The moment when the veil lifts and you see, for the first time, what lies beyond."
Tour stood and retrieved a folded piece of cloth from a nearby table. It was a scholar's cloak—simple, unadorned, but marked with a single silver emblem: a spiral.
He returned to Rachid and draped the cloak over his shoulders.
"The fourth and final stage," Tour said, "is Integration and Illumination. You have committed. You have been purified. You have been instructed. Now, you must integrate."
He stepped back. "This cloak marks your acceptance into the Scholar Route. You are no longer Disconnected, Young Master Rachid. You are Initiated. First Grade. Scholar Route."
Rachid touched the fabric of the cloak, his fingers trembling slightly.
"Over the coming days," Tour continued, "your consciousness will continue to expand. You will see things you did not see before. You will understand patterns you did not notice. This is the process of integration. Do not fight it. Let it happen."
He paused, his expression softening slightly. "And know this, Young Master: the path ahead is long. You have taken the first step. But there are many grades, many tiers, many trials yet to come."
Rachid looked up at him, his voice steady despite the trembling in his hands. "I am ready, Master Tour."
Tour inclined his head. "Then go. Rest. Reflect. And when you are ready, we will begin your training in earnest."
Rachid stood, the scholar's cloak settling around his shoulders. He felt different. Lighter. Sharper. As though a fog he hadn't realized was there had been lifted.
He bowed deeply to Tour. "Thank you, Master."
Tour returned the bow. "Do not thank me yet, Young Master. Knowledge is a gift and a burden. You will learn this in time."
Rachid turned and walked toward the door, his steps more confident than when he had entered.
But before he left, he paused and looked back. "Master Tour... I saw them. The spirits. They were watching."
Tour's expression was unreadable. "They always are, Young Master. They always are."
Rachid left the chamber.
And Tour stood alone among the scrolls, his gaze distant and contemplative.
Another soul awakened, he thought. Another piece on the board.
He folded the ritual items carefully and returned them to their places.
The game was far from over.