Plays are magical. A story that has come alive on stage. Actors living the lives of the characters imparting their energy through their words or actions. Music playing in the background perfectly cradling the atmosphere for the scene. The right inflection with the right word at the right time can make a whole room weep or raise the energy to have a crowd ready to stand up for fictional characters.

  Inside the main hall of the Grand Drama House, the air was heavy with anticipation. Tens of thousands were in the crowd watching as the lights faded once more and the play began.

  Soft woodwinds filled the darkened silence playing a slow melody that seemed to die out every now and then before being strong again. In the middle of the stage a subtle light started following the music. It’d glow softly before being snuffed out like a flame that needs more oxygen. When it would glow again, it’d be slightly stronger and the music would follow suit. The audience watched on in silence as the cycle continued until both the light and music flared up revealing a lone woman on stage.

  She was beautiful with auburn hair flowing down to her lower back. An exquisite white and gold gown wrapped itself around her body like a second skin. She had fair skin and adoring jade eyes. Eyes that stared out into the crowd. Eyes that stared right through you.

  The bottom of her gown lifted from the ground into the air as she turned but was quickly grounded again as she kneeled away from the crowd. Her head looked straight ahead as spotlights hit the objects of her attention.

  Three intricately constructed labyrinths came into view. The one on the left had hedges made of masks of all different kinds. Elegant masquerade masks, children’s masks, masks of celebration, and masks that looked like faces. Thousands of dead eyes to get lost in. In the middle, the labyrinth was made of shadows twisting and turning. Light went in and faded. More shadows were added to the moving maze, and it grew. Lastly, the labyrinth on the right was made of fabrics of every color and material. Flowing silk, heavy cotton, rough denim all colliding to form garments.

  Each class chosen in the audience knew what they were watching. It was a manifestation of their class day. Everyone remembered the confusion they felt that day looking at their class choices. At only twenty years old making a choice that would shape the rest of their life much like making the choice of which way to turn in a labyrinth. The woman before them was going to become a class chosen.

  She looked between the choices multiple times, looking frantic and confused. Her face scrunched in thought as she approached each one attempting to map out a path to the unseeable end. As she was investigating each choice, a projection above her showed her thoughts. On the left it was her sneaking around, switching her face constantly. She was the ultimate stealth class playing part after part until she lost herself. Her head shook as she walked to the fabric maze. Another projection showed her controlling fabrics and making brilliant clothing. People loved her creations and she adored the admiration until it wasn’t enough. Her creations became grey and pale as she was locked down in one city. Finally, she made her way to the middle, and the projection showed a mixture of the other two. She created using shadows as her medium and was able to sneak while keeping true to herself. Without hesitation she ran into the shadow labyrinth and made her choice.

  Lights faded and when they came back on, they were dimmed. A massive labyrinth made of shadow had been brought to the center of the stage and the woman was inside. Her confidence was waning as she walked between the dark walls crouching. She was cautious and trembling. Her slow movements were from the weight of the decision, still she went forward towards the first split in the path.

  When she got there three shadow wisps pulled themselves from the wall. One disappeared and popped up a distance away seconds later. Another shaped itself into various animals and tools. The third looked darker than the others and looked to be absorbing the minimal light surrounding the woman. It was her first skill selection. Slowly she reached her hand towards the shape shifting shadow and it formed into a cloak that surrounded her body. The other paths faded but weren’t completely gone.

  Her journey continued when terrifying monsters appeared in the next stretch of her chosen path. One after another they attacked her, and she killed them with apprehension clearly present her in strikes. Tears rolled down her face after the first, but by the tenth, her face was devoid of any emotion. With each kill, her elegant gown tore until it was completely gone. Her shadows formed armor over her body. She was leaving her past behind and was embracing her path. Her class was becoming an integral part of her. Every class chosen could understand that feeling. Synexus was a simple boy living amongst the trees. He left that behind for the adventure and chaos that comes with the life of a class chosen and now everything he did was to improve his ability to be a Progress Architect. Kumo was the daughter of Whisper’s version of royalty and now she traded her etiquette for combat lethality. She had become a storm from a cloud.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  With each kill, the woman sucked in more shadows which was clearly the experience in this scenario. Her body soon became completely covered in shadow and when that happened, she was stopped by a locked door. Three shadow keys formed in front of her representing the three choices of her class evolution. She couldn’t see where the paths led once again and the choice was made blind. Shadows appeared against the door and started to move, acting out the evolutions.

  The first made a silhouette of her shaping even more shadow into unlimited shapes. The second showed her wielding shadow against an army, shadow blood dripped down the door. The third formed into a cloak and crouched in a group of shadow people. A utility class, a combat class, and a stealth class. Again, she was choosing a specialty in which she would walk the rest of her life without being able to see where the path led. Again, she chose the one that let her create with shadows.

  When she chose the door crashed down and only one path was ahead of her to follow. As she walked, she practiced forming shadows into various shapes or sculptures. She cleverly used the light to help her shape the shadows like clay. Every now and then she would have to kill and each time the audience could tell the difference. When she was creating, her shadow movements were full of energy and the feeling in the air was one of excitement. When she fought, her moves were cold and calculated. She’d win every time, but it was clear she struggled with the acts of violence. Every class chosen in the crowd could again relate. No matter what class you were, there was an inherent duty to class chosen to kill monsters. Vorin often referred to the duty of class chosen when making decisions for the party.

  The labyrinth opened up into a much bigger space before the shadow clad woman and a bunch of silhouettes of people popped up. She stood in front of them and sculpted shadows into the most amazing shapes. The silhouettes applauded and cheered. She stood proud in front of them using her shadows for entertainment rather than violence. When her show was done, the lights above kept focused on the silhouettes as they went about their business. Moments after the woman continued down the labyrinth path, a beast popped up out of nowhere and killed them all. She came running back into the light and fell to her knees in tears. The monster stalked towards her, and she used the same shadow puppets she used for the show to slay the beast. Another universal truth for class chosen, no matter what you do on your path, you will fail to protect people. Death is inevitable after all.

  When class chosen come to this realization, they often push themselves even harder thinking that progressing down their path is the only way to help more people. As if becoming stronger would prevent tragedy. That’s exactly what the woman in the play did.

  She pushed down her path at a jog instead of a walk barely stopping to slay the beasts blocking the way forward. Her cloak grew longer as more and more shadow accumulated on her. She never stopped. Her entire world was progressing down her path. Each split in the path was a skill selection that she made without hesitation like she knew exactly where each one would lead.

  The audience watched as the woman continued on non-stop until she ran into another door. She leaned against the wall breathing heavy. Sweat glistened in the spotlight as it ran down her face. Deep bags could be seen under her piercing eyes. Still, she turned toward the door and watched as the shadows came alive once more.

  Another three shadow puppets on the doors showed her the possible evolutions. One showed her bending the shadows into larger objects. The second showed her creating more complex puppets. And the last depicted her breathing life into the shadows. Without hesitation she chose the last option and stumbled forward back into her run.

  Parts of her cloak started dripping off before forming into shapes mimicking life. They followed her and mirrored her movements. She talked to them and helped to sculpt them into new shapes. After several more battles, she started having the shadows carry her forward instead of running on her own too legs which only increased her pace. Somehow, she was getting stronger physically while her signs of exhaustion continued to become more prevalent.

  When the final locked door appeared, the shadows let her down and she crawled the distance to the door. She clawed at the door dragging herself up to the choices before her, but there was only one. The audience didn’t get to see what it was until she unlocked the large gate and weakly pushed it open. Several shadows helped the woman to stand and walk beyond the gate. As soon as her foot reached over the threshold, it had become clear what she chose.

  Shadows coalesced and spun around the woman until they absorbed into her. All the visible skin disappeared and soon she became a living shadow. She kept growing until she stood taller than any of the labyrinth walls. Her class master gate had been the exit of the maze. She had fully become her class.

  Her large form turned around to face the audience then she looked down on the labyrinth that looked tiny compared to her now. Her shadow finger followed all the paths, and they all led to the same place. There were no dead ends or wrong choices. No matter what she chose, she would have reached the end. All her worries and stress of choosing wrong was misplaced. She could have wandered the maze for centuries taking every path to see where it led, and she still would have ended up at the same end. Her shadow form collapsed from exhaustion after she came to the discovery. Becoming one with your class is inevitable just as death is.

  The audience applauded as the silent play ended. Even without words, the actress had reached into their souls and connected with them. Every class chosen knows that exhaustion and the weight of never-ending progress. And they know what the play didn’t show. That even when you get beyond the class master gate, there is still progress to be made. From the age of twenty, from that first class selection, they map out the labyrinth of their life.