The room was much like the spring chamber, with its flowing water and arched walls, but there were a few key differences. The tree at the center was larger now, its branches heavy with fruit—apples, pears, and peaches, all gleaming as if lit from within. The same fruit from the earlier trials.

  Surrounding it stood three great scales, each tall and gleaming, their golden arms balanced delicately in the still air. They circled the tree like silent judges, waiting to weigh whatever came next.

  Behind the tree I could see words. Another rhyme.

  One for apple, plain to see,

  Then climb above for crystal green.

  Bring it down and balance fair,

  The scale will weigh what’s truly there.

  Two for pear, no more, no less,

  Pluck them true for crystal’s bless.

  Set them even, scale to rest,

  Else begin again the test.

  Three for peach, the count is right,

  Three bright crystals, matching light.

  Place them gently, none too free,

  Or start anew, the price shall be.

  One, two, three — no more to take,

  No crystal hoard, no fruit to fake.

  Reach one hundred two in sum,

  Then to the tree your journey’s done.

  Touch its bark when work is through,

  But test in haste and start anew

  I read and reread the instructions to make sure I had it right. First, I had to place a single apple on one scale and balance it with the green gem. Then two pears with their matching crystals. Finally, the peaches and their crystals—each fruit weighed against its counterpart—until all of them together added up to a total of one hundred and two.

  So, a total of one hundred and two units, divided between apples, pears, and peaches.

  I crouched down, running the math in my head. One apple counted as one, two pears made two, three peaches made three. Altogether, it had to reach one hundred and two. That meant seventeen full sets of fruit.

  Seventeen apples. Thirty-four pears. Fifty-one peaches.

  But the system wasn’t going to let me drop them all in at once. No, each fruit had to be done on its own, plucked from the tree, carried, weighed, balanced, crystal by crystal.

  Seventeen times three. Fifty-one separate trips.

  The first cycle set the pattern. I plucked an apple, placed it carefully on the scale, then trudged up the stairs to fetch a green gem from the stone bowl and carried it back down to balance the weight. Next came two pears, each with its crystal, and finally three peaches matched with three glowing stones.

  That was one.

  By the fifth set, my legs were heavy and my muscles ached with every climb. The routine had settled in—apple, pears, peaches, crystals—over and over until it blurred into a dull, grinding rhythm.

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  By the tenth, my legs burned from the endless stairs. I’d stopped thinking about fruit entirely and focused only on the count. One apple. Two pears. Three peaches. Again. Again.

  By the fifteenth, I moved like a machine, no thought left in me but the pattern of the task: pluck, place, climb, fetch, balance.

  At last, the seventeenth cycle. The final apple, the final pears, the final peaches. I set them on the scales with trembling hands and watched the gems flare to life as the beams dipped, shivered, and finally settled into perfect equilibrium.

  One hundred and two. Exactly.

  The scales glowed brighter, light spilling outward in a wave that rippled through the chamber.

  I leaned against the tree, exhausted but grinning. “Fifty-one trips for one doorway out of here.”

  I knew the last challenge was autumn and I bet my life there would be leaves involved. I walked through the doorway and yes… I was right.

  The familiar tree inside had changed again, now dressed for autumn. Its branches were thick with leaves in every shade—pale yellow, rusty red, warm gold, and deep orange. The air itself seemed softer here, as though the room carried the hush of falling leaves.

  I stepped closer, moving around the tree until I noticed something at the back. Writing shimmered faintly against the wall, waiting to be read.

  On the opposite wall, a series of painted leaves stood out. Each one had its own shape and color—yellow, red, orange, and brown—but they weren’t exact copies of the leaves clinging to the branches above. They were unique, perhaps a key to understanding the puzzle that awaited me.

  I walked around the tree and read the words.

  Seven leaves in branches keep,

  Their hues and forms in silence sleep.

  Match each shape and color true,

  The door will open, guiding you.

  But one mistake, the path shall fade,

  Begin again, the trial remade.

  It seemed straightforward enough: I needed to find the leaves on the tree that matched the pictures painted on the wall.

  I studied the images carefully, trying to memorize the exact shape and color of each one before turning back to the tree. At first, I thought it would be simple—but I quickly realized otherwise. The branches were heavy with foliage, and picking out seven unique leaves among hundreds was going to take far more time than I’d hoped.

  The first leaf took longer than expected, but when I held it up against the picture, it matched perfectly. Encouraged, I pressed on. The second gave way after another careful search. The third through sixth followed with enough patience, each discovery a small victory.

  But the seventh… the seventh refused to show itself.

  I scoured the branches, checking and rechecking, until frustration gnawed at me. Finally, I stopped, sat down beneath the tree, and drank some water, letting my muscles rest. For a moment, I wondered if it was a trick—that maybe the last leaf didn’t exist at all.

  Then, as I pushed aside a cluster of branches and nearly gave up, I caught sight of it. Half-hidden, but unmistakable.

  The last leaf.

  Relief swept over me, and I let out a long breath. “Thank goodness.”

  The pictures on the wall began to shift—sliding outward, the topmost one rising higher. Together they pulled at the stone itself, and with a deep groan the wall parted. Slowly, a doorway emerged where the images had been.

  The second room also had a tree and a picture and writing but nuts had been added to the mix. I assumed it would be the same as before but that I would have to look for nuts as well.

  I first walked to the writing to verify my assumption.

  Four bright leaves and nuts of three,

  Together hold the autumn’s key.

  Match their forms in color true,

  The hidden door will open through.

  But set them wrong, the path will fade,

  Begin again — the trial remade

  Again, I tried to memorise the shape and color of the nuts. I decided to begin with the nuts and to postpone the leave looking to last.

  Unlike the leaves from the previous room—each one unique and easy to tell apart from the rest of the tree—the nuts were another matter entirely. There were several of each type hanging from the branches, and at a glance they all looked nearly identical. I had to pluck and check more than a few before I finally found the right ones.

  Fortunately, the system didn’t punish me for the mistakes.

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  first Royal Road chapter of each pair. The second one won’t have pictures. If you want to see all the art together (or earlier), it’s on Patreon with the combined chapters!