The first time he had gambled he was no older than nine. The orphaned boys who lived along the hidden alleyways of Akkad often swindled passersby's with their antics and their games. It was a common event that all seemed to partake in and accept as a way of life. However his father–when he still had strength in those days–warned him never to get swayed by their calls to join their cause. He was not quite sure why his father was so against gambling, but one day after a few too many drinks. While he mumbled in his sleep, he recalled him muttering his mother’s name and chastising her for her spending habits. It was perhaps the only time he had ever cared to know more about the woman that had abandoned them. As Cyrus walked deeper into Eirdu behind Lyrik, he could not help but offer a soft grin at the idea of what his father would think of him right now.

  “Managed to regain your smile have you?” Lyrik continued ahead as they passed through another narrow street.

  Cyrus’ smile quickly vanished as it turned to one of slight embarrassment. He still replayed his encounter with Adam repeatedly in his head, he so desperately wanted to apologize for any offense he might have caused. The weight of the coin that burned in his pocket was heavier than he had thought. Each growing moment seemed to compound the issue of his trial and as the day was slowly approaching evening, the end of his test would be at hand. The boy had still not chosen a candidate to receive the coin. He was running out of time.

  “You said you were going to help me,” Cyrus called out to the Stygian lord in front of him. “I don’t have much time left. Where are we going?”

  Lyrik waved him into submission, “I said I’d help you didn’t I?” the man was growing annoyed with the questions. “You just have to help me first. Besides, you wouldn’t even know where we are going if I told you.”

  He was right, Cyrus thought, but it did not mean he would not complain about it. Lyrik had taken him deeper into the city than he had traversed with Adam earlier. This part of Eirdu had a calmer atmosphere and people mingled in a more intimate tone. There were countless veils that hung with vibrant colors as they were illuminated by the brilliant day. The buildings here were older, more connected than he was used to. It was as though each structure led into the other. Above him walkways acted like bridges, as people made their way while in deep conversation. Like Akkad, he sensed this too was no ordinary city and as such regarded his new surroundings with a renewed sense of wonder.

  “Where are we?” he muttered under his breath. He wished he had his new drawing book with him.

  “Welcome to the center of Eirdu, or as others call it, Zogos.” Lyrik motioned to the carefully wrapped onyx building that stood several feet high.

  It is said that where Zogos stood, was built on the first lie. Two Stygian lords, both laying claim to this land unable to straighten their difference through conversation or blades. Settled on one final confrontation, a simple game. A game all were equal in, for all learned of its rules from birth. Be it Stygian, human, Nephilim or Beastmen. All tongues spoke of it. It was the Liars Game, a game most true. It was with the first lie did Zogos come into being, and then Eirdu soon after.

  The building was made of a dark wood, almost bottomless in its ability to dismiss color. Light seemed to avoid its gaze as it was wrapped in several colorful cloths across its many floors. Open terraces housed guests who mingled and conversed as they huffed on exotic bark. Others shuffled along speaking to each other while accompanied by servants who carried large bags of gold, oftentimes lagging behind their masters. Carved into the face of the building, obscured by veils. Where Stygian markings that contained an ancient power most forgotten, from when the Night Lords still spoke the ancient rites commonly. None here knew what they said, but it did not matter. The carvings whispered to all that came close that this structure had stood here for thousands of years and would do so for another several thousand. For one single purpose and one alone. As though in a trance like state, they made their way ahead and in return the great doors opened for them excitedly.

  Cyrus had thought the outside of the building to be mesmerizing, but the interior offered a new perspective on wealth he had not thought to consider. The threads of gold that accented over the onyx interior created a sleek design that had the boy at a loss for words. Titan pillars divided the floors into sections of greater wealth, where nobles congregated engaging in games. From where he stood, he saw people gathering in groups hunched over as they cheered. Others had assembled in what he believed to be a resting area as they drank and leisurely displayed their wealth for all to see. Some moved to even more private rooms deeper into the structure, climbing wooden stairs to newer, more luxurious heights. In the presence of all this splendor Cyrus felt terribly underdressed and out of place.

  “Lord Lyrik! You are back!” an older man called out. “And who is your wonderful friend, my lord?” he turned to Cyrus with a cheerful grin.

  “Kardwin, prepare my private rooms, I have coin.” Lyrik yawned, hurrying the man to get to work. “Mind the boy, his name is Cyrus, a guest of Lord Xenon’s.”

  Kardwin bowed lower, showing even greater respect. “It is an honor to have you my lord. Welcome to Lord Xenon’s playhouse, welcome to Zogos.”

  Cyrus studied the old man as he raised his face. He wore a bright red outfit that contrasted greatly with the dark colors of the inner building around them. His hair was slicked back with patches across his scalp and a white beard covered most of his face. His cheeks almost hollowed out as though he had been starved for quite some time but there was an uncanniness to his appearance as though one could not quite tell exactly what kind of man he was. However most uncomfortable of all were his eyes. With a bony finger he pointed the way for them to follow and they did.

  He was amazed that such a structure could exist within the city, it felt as though he were transported to a different world, from the one he knew. Black walls, red curtains, onyx pillars, ruby furniture. The contrast between the two striking colors made him feel ethereal, as though he were more than he was. He passed a mirror and saw his features had been greatly highlighted. His hair darker than ever with the stars within as bright as he had ever seen them before. His skin just as dark to match, with his eyes glowing with primal power as the sunset within them blazed with greater potential. He was reminded that he truly was a Stygian.

  “What is this place?” Cyrus was dumbfounded with wonder.

  “Why this is Zogos Lord Cyrus,” Kardwin chuckled.

  “No I know but-”

  “I only jest my dear boy I know what you mean.“ With an outstretched hand he motioned to the walls around them. “With each new Lord of Eirdu the interior of Zogos changes to match its new master's desire. Lord Xenon in his greatness took inspiration from his mother, Lady Rahela’s home.”

  Cyrus looked around the area they walked through. So this is Vanaheimr, he thought. The two-tone colors were a sight to behold. He wondered if one day he would be given the opportunity to see the realm itself and experience all it had to offer. It was not long before Kardwin had taken them up across a flight of stares and through a suspended bridge to the private rooms of Zogos.

  “Master Cyrus, we now enter an area reserved only for Stygian nobles of the highest honors, like yourself. Be mindful of your manners my boy.” Kardwin smiled with a reassuring tone.

  Cyrus nodded unsure why he was eager to heed the man’s words. There was a distant glint in the old man’s beady eyes that he could not place.

  The lounge area of where they arrived was sectioned off with multiple private quarters, some were occupied while many were left vacant. It was quite clear this was not a place visited by many nor where any really allowed to enter here. It was only for the most lavish of nobles who could afford to gamble with things greater than coins. However Cyrus had yet to understand truly what it was that was wagered in Zogos. Kardwin would soon rectify that problem with glee.

  “Master Cyrus, do you know why people gamble?” The brittle man pushed open the wooden doors. The cool air of the room washed over them with the scent of aged wood and other alluring scents. Death perhaps?

  Cyrus followed them inside and stumbled into an elegant room that was woven in red silk sheets and priceless ruby pillows. In the center of the room stood a flat red wooden table. Flowery designs were carved along the edges of the wood, and any exposed part that was not covered in fine fabric. Several chairs had been placed in a circle around the table while larger sitting areas were up against the surrounding background.

  “No, sir Kardwin,” he answered honestly. “Why do they?”

  “Kardwin is all you may call me little boy,” the old man chuckled. “I am no sir. No such thing, no. I am sure.” He directed Lyrik to the table who sat, while he turned his attention back to Cyrus. “I too do not know, I was hoping you would have the answer!” The thing laughed.

  It was not until he laughed that Cyrus realized Kardwin unsettled him. The way the man was dressed, the manner in which he seemed to always look through him as though there was someone behind him he was addressing. The perpetual smile that was more fake the longer he held it in place. His beady eyes looked lifeless closer to black jewels than anything real, and his bony fingers rhythmically tapped next to his thigh as he talked. As though he was counting the number of words he spoke. The longer Cyrus looked at the old man, he grew in unease. He attributed his reaction to being overwhelmed by where he was taken. Instead of the man, he turned his attention to where Lyrik sat wanting to clear his mind.

  “What game will he be playing?” Cyrus asked, making himself comfortable.

  “The only game worth playing, my dear boy.” Kardwin stood next to him with a stretched grin. “'The Liar’s Game'. The one that started it all.”

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  “What’s the Liar’s Game?” Cyrus asked.

  A moment later, a man dressed in similar robes to Kardwin emerged from the door opposite them. His clothes were not as extravagant as Kardwin’s but there was still an effort of flamboyance that immediately told whoever gazed at them–they belonged to the same odd group as the old man. He bowed first towards Kardwin, Cyrus and lastly Lyrik. The man took his seat opposed to the Stygian lord and placed his hands on the table.

  “What will you wager?”

  Lyrik turned to Cyrus and smiled. “Half the gold he carries,” pointing at his young companion.

  The man turned to Cyrus to confirm and reluctantly the boy said yes. He failed to see how any of this would help him with his trial but he would not question someone who offered aid.

  “I will match.”

  The robed man brought out two sets of five black dice. They had been numbered with a ruby gem from one to six. They glittered underneath the flames that illuminated the room. Cyrus sat up in anticipation looking on. From within his robes he pulled out two ceramic containers painted a deep red that matched the table. He offered one to Lyrik and he kept the other, both men quietly examined the dice they possessed feeling the weight of it, as though it was the most valuable thing in the entire world. At that very moment it well could have been. When they were both satisfied they exchanged dice and placed it in their respective cups. They rattled the container around and slammed it on the table. Both of them took glances underneath their containers studying their dice. Lyrik was first to speak.

  “Three–threes,” he declared. Most of the emotion disappeared from his words.

  The man across from the Stygian lord studied his face, then turned his attention to the hidden dice underneath his cup.

  “Five, threes,” he responded flatly.

  It was Lyrik’s turn to study the man, which he did quite thoroughly before deciding on a course of action. “Seven, threes.”

  “Liar.”

  It was barely above a whisper, if the boy had not seen the man’s mouth move he would have been sure he said nothing. However the deep voice that rattled around his head told him otherwise. There was so much conviction in the accusation that Cyrus felt partially responsible as though he was somehow at fault. He turned to Kardwin who stood next to him, the man’s eyes never leaving the table nor his smile either. Had he not heard the deep voice? Cyrus wanted to ask but the events of the table caught his attention first.

  Lyrik tapped his container three times, before deciding to raise it, revealing four of his five dice were threes while the fifth one was a two. “What say you?”

  The man lifted his own container to reveal three of his dice were threes while the other two were sixes. “It is your victory.” The man slid two gold bars across the table, before he stood, bowed and went on his way.

  That was easy, the boy thought. It was quite a simple game with a very simple objective: deception. A craft that he prided himself in learning about when he lived within the slums of Akkad. Living among those who peddled their wares offered him an insight into the more desperate professions that people found themselves in. He was surprised by the quickness of the game, it was not long before another person who dressed like the previous man emerged and once again Lyrik battled with the person.

  “Do you understand the game Master Cyrus?” Kardwin asked hopefully.

  Cyrus nodded confidently, “Yes, it is quite simple.”

  “Quite simple indeed,” Kardwin nodded pleasingly. “Easy in many regards, yes?”

  “I think so.”

  “Would you like to play?”

  Cyrus had to stop himself before he responded. The giddiness in Kardwin’s voice was unnatural, almost childish. Unfit for someone who looked closer to a century old than of one any younger. The boy could not shake this gnawing feeling that had developed within his head and looked to continue observing Lyrik.

  The more he watched the man, the more he understood the game. Above all else, the more he was confused as to why Lyrik had been viewed so casually by the others. For every one round he lost, he would rattle off two or three wins. Growing in confidence, however, Cyrus had been more interested in the growing wagers. They had begun at several gold pieces and ballooned into hundreds. Sometimes some guests would wager, their homes, their dreams, their feelings, things Cyrus did not know people could gamble. And when they would inevitably lose they would not even react, instead they bowed in respect and left with grace.

  It was not long before Cyrus had grown bored of watching Lyrik's successive victories. He had no idea how much time had passed and he was no closer to finishing his trial than when they arrived. There was a part of the boy that felt used by the Lord of War, that he was viewed as no more than a means to an end. A walking pouch of gold coins, how was this to help him in any way?

  “Lord Lyrik, you are playing phenomenal today, are you prepared to allow me to entertain you?”

  “Not now Kardwin,” the Stygian lord waved him off.

  Cyrus sat up, “Wait yes!” he exclaimed, “Let’s play together.”

  “Cyrus N-”

  “Why let us!” Kardwin clapped his hand together and the entire room tilted ever so slightly with a shudder.

  “I hope you’re prepared to lose to Kardwin!” Cyrus declared as he moved to the table.

  He sat next to Lyrik whose calm demeanor had hardened slightly, his eyes gazing at Kardwin with an almost cautious approach. He had not known the Lord of War was capable of such a weary look and wondered what the problem could be. However his attention was caught by Kardwin as he moved to sit across from them. His bony hands lay flat on the table. His smile was almost unnaturally wide as he struggled to contain his excitement.

  “Now since this is your first time Lord Cyrus, I suggest we play by the old rules.” He loved the taste of death on his tongue. “Wagers can be anything one so desires.”

  The boy nodded, agreeing to the orders given. His confident smile faltered a bit when his eyes met Lyrik's.

  “I am oh so excited to play Lord Cyrus,” Kardwin distributed five dice each to both of them.

  Cyrus along with the others all examined their respective dice. His objects were smooth in his hand, he was sure the black object was made of an ancient stone, it was smoother than anything he had ever felt. The ruby gems that dotted the face of it were worn. It told him these dice were considerably older, he wondered if they were as old as Kardwin himself. However as he passed them back to the old man, he was unsure why he thought the old man was older than the dice, by a considerable margin at that.

  “Cyrus,” Lyrik turned to him slightly, his face expressionless. “I need you to remember one thing, while we play.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When he asks you to leave, do so. Do you understand?”

  “What do-”

  “Now let us begin!”

  As Kardwin snapped his hands Cyrus's attention was pulled straight to the dice. He had not noticed when the old man placed his container in front of him but all the same it was with the dice included. There was a heightened level of awareness permeating through the room as though many more were watching from distant corners just outside of Cyrus’s vision.

  He lifted the container and rattled it around, mimicking what Kardwin and Lyrik did. When he was sufficiently satisfied with his shaking he slammed the container down on the table with a smile on his face. The game had just started and he was eager to commence.

  “Once again since it is your first time, you are free to wager first my lord,” Kardwin bowed.

  Cyrus looked over at Lyrik for approval which the man gave with a nod. “I…I wager one gold coin.”

  “I match one gold coin,” Lyrik answered.

  “I as well,” Kardwin agreed with a nod.

  Cyrus lifted his container slightly, what greeted him was two-sixes, two-four’s and a fifth dice showing him a three. He relaxed as he felt satisfied with what he had rolled. Having both two sixes and fours allowed him a slight advantage with the pairs, he was sure at the very least one of them would have two more of his doubles. He debated between the four and six to call, not long after he settled on an answer.

  “Four, fours,” he declared.

  Lyrik looked at his dice again, “five-fours.”

  Kardwin tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze never leaving Cyrus. “Master Cyrus, do you know why I hate the youth so much?”

  The boy laughed nervously at the randomness of the question , before looking at Lyrik for direction only to be met with a flat stare. He turned back to Kardwin and slowly shook his head.

  “It is the air of bravado you all put on, it is quite rancid you know?” there was a great tone of disgust in his words. “Take yourself for example. One look is all it took from you and you thought yourself capable of sitting across from me.” The smile he bore looked painful as it continued to pull back across his face.

  Cyrus was not going to be goaded into a reaction. He was aware that deception was the aim of the game and he would not fall for call outs or those who would try to unsettle him. It was a simple game, one that he knew he would succeed in and was sure that all Kardwin was trying to do was stall for time. Emboldened by confidence he had grown over his internal debate, he addressed the servant with pride.

  “I didn’t know you were so talkative when you’re nervous, Kardwin?” Cyrus responded mockingly, “This is going to be a pretty long game.”

  Kardwin laughed an honest laugh, almost too genuine. The wrinkles on his face hiding his eyes.

  “Six-sixes.”

  “Liar!” Cyrus shouted reflexively.

  He caught himself, embarrassed at the burst of energy that left his body. He was unsure why he did that, all the same he did agree with the statement he made. He was sure that between the fifteen dice that were held by them, there was no way more than half held sixes. Kardwin’s softened smile was the added proof he needed, his reaction more than telling the king’s ward was right to make the call. He turned to Lyrik hoping to see a cheerful look of encouragement but once again he just looked on expressionless. The boy was the first to raise his dice, revealing what he had underneath. Lyrik followed suit, showing two-threes, three-two’s and one four. Impressing Cyrus he was able to bluff so easily. It was now Kardwin’s turn to show his dice and he did.

  “I count four-sixes for myself, and how many do you have there?” the old custodian of Zogos asked.

  Cyrus looked on in disbelief at what he saw. Kardwin had presented four dice with sixes on them adding to the two he possessed it equaled six in total. He looked at Lyrik who was unphased by the outcome of the round. He turned back to Kardwin who placed his hands together in a calmly fashion and stared back with a smug air.

  “Would you like to leave?”

  Cyrus furrowed his brow, shaking his head, “A-again. I want to play again.”