The attack never came.

Micah opened his eyes. The web was gone, the beasts were gone, and, thankfully, the spider was gone. He sat alone in an empty room, which was now lit. He could see that it was, indeed, very large. He saw his sword lying near a wall. He crawled toward it and, very shakily, sheathed it.

The chorus of whispers could be heard again. "Very good, young one. You've passed the first trial, the trial of fear. Go through the door up ahead, and face the second one." They softened again to an inaudible whisper.

Micah walked toward the opposite door. Timidly, Belle popped out of his pocket.

"I nearly suffered a heart attack," Belle said. "No storyteller in the world could recount such vivid terror."

Micah said nothing for a while. Finally, he said, "You didn't have to come. If you wanted to, you could leave."

"Yeah," said Belle, sinking back into the pocket. "I know."

Through the door was a flight of spiral stairs, covered with red carpet. After ascending the stairs, Micah saw another door. With a deep breath, he went through.

Thankfully, the room was lit. But once the door closed behind him, he was immersed in a perplexing labyrinth. It was a maze, yet every wall was covered with angled mirrors. This created an infinite spiral of misleading paths. Micah stood still, overwhelmed by the many possible paths. He chose a path and followed it, but was instantly lost. He could see the barred door he had come through in fifty mirrors, and his own reflection was in twice that number. He was ready to panic.

But then, he had an idea. It was probably cheating, but it was worth a try. He unsheathed his sword, and, striking the glass wall behind him forcefully, carved a recognizable image... a heart. While he carved, he held out the Lens of Truth, making sure the figure was the same size as the lens. He looked about, and saw the heart reflecting all around him.

He continued on down the path, carving more, easily recognizable figures, into the mirrors around him, making sure that they were all the same size as the Lens of Truth. Finally, he had marked about half of the mirrors in the room. He came back to where he started, and chose a path to walk.

By comparing the sizes of figures in the mirrors to the lens, he could tell which ones were the actual carvings, and which were reflections. Soon, he came to paths where there were no markings. He navigated these, carving more shapes as he went, until he came to the end of the maze.

The voices rose again. "The test of cunning has been passed. Proceed to your third and final challenge," they said.

Micah climbed the next flight of stairs, which were twice as high as the last. Into the next room he walked, and suddenly felt ill, for it was shaped as an arena, with pillars of stone, thick as cedar trees, spaced evenly around the center.

"If you can make it to the door on the other end," the voices said. "You pass the final test." The voices grew quiet again.

Micah walked forward. The voices rose in volume, but continued to rise and did not speak. Finally, Micah had to place his hands over his ears to prevent deafness, and suddenly, they were silent. And that's when it came.

A huge metal shape crashed through the ceiling, showering Micah with bits of marble and steel. He shielded his eyes against the debris, and when he looked, there was, standing before him, a monstrous knight, at least ten feet in height, donned in thick, heavy steel armor, wielding a decorative shield as thick as a wall, and a sword as broad as a pillar.

The knight swung at Micah. Micah ducked, and the sword struck a pillar, shattering the base and toppling the pillar with a tremendous crash. Micah rolled underneath the knight and swung at his backside, but the strike only caused the armor to ring like a bell. The knight turned, and with a roar, charged at him. Micah sidestepped, and the knight crashed into the wall.

It was obviously not very bright, Micah knew, so if he could lure the knight into the opposite wall, he would be able to reach his goal, the door.

The knight broke away from the wall and swung its sword, missed, and swung with its other arm, holding the shield. The shield slammed into Micah's body, forcing the air out of his lungs and sending his frail body sliding across the floor.

The knight took advantage of this, and held its sword over his head, charging. He swung down on Micah, but he rolled out of the wall, and the sword cut deep into the marble floor. Even with the knight's incredible strength, it could not get the sword out immediately, so Micah quickly acted. With a single bound, he climbed onto the knight's back, and with a yell, swung at its head.

The helmet fell to the ground with a crash, and Micah gasped, for there was nothing inside. The knight, whatever it was, was not a living being.

The knight retrieved its sword and began swiping at Micah, who was still clinging to its back. He swung his sword again, cutting off the right arm. At this point, his sword broke at the hilt. The knight grabbed the blade from the floor, and throwing down its shield, began taking wild stabs at Micah with its remaining arm. Micah eyed the knight's severed arm. It still held the broadsword. Micah leapt for it, but it was so heavy that he had to hold it with both arms, and still could barely keep it upright. The knight ran at Micah with the little blade. Micah dodged, getting a mild gash on his left arm as the blade rushed past. The knight collided with another pillar, shattering it on impact. Micah grabbed the sword again, but was still unable to master it. The knight recovered, and with a yell, charged again. Micah charged as well, but the sword was so heavy that he almost lost it. He held it in front of his body like a spear. The knight saw this, but the acceleration of his charge was too great, so he collided with Micah.

The sword ran deep into the knight's chest. It screamed in anguish, a scream that was so shrill and ghastly that it made Micah cringe. It stumbled backwards, the sword still sticking out of its thick armor, and grasped at it in pain. Its remaining armor began to crumble off its body, which, Micah could finally see, was an amorphous ball of gas. The ghosts dispersed, and were gone. The voices began to murmur again.

"You have done well, young one," they said, once they had reached the necessary volume. "To date, no one else has been able to kill the Iron Knuckles. Most just run to the exit once it's out of the way. The trials are passed. Your goal is through that door. The best of luck to you..." And he heard the voices no more.

Micah threw open the door, and was immediately immersed in the master of illusions. It was as if he stood in space. Familiar constellations hung around him in a backdrop of black, yet they were accompanied by millions more stars that could never be seen on Earth. A streak of faded white, the Milky Way, ran down the center, as if it pointed to the only earthly object in the room. A stone pedestal. Thrust deep into the pedestal was a sword, made of the finest steel and decorated with jewelry fit for kings. It shone with a mystical aura, beckoning Micah nearer.

"Wow," whispered Belle. It was truly breathtaking.

Micah looked around. The door behind him was gone. He felt for it, but as he walked toward the wall that he was sure existed, he only journeyed deeper and deeper into the illusion. He turned around. The pedestal was now even farther from him. His heart pounded, his stomach churned, and his mouth went dry. There was no way back; only onward.

Micah stepped up to the pedestal, with great strides that hid his inner fear. As he advanced, the sword's aurora glowed even brighter. Belle cooed softly. Micah swallowed hard. He reached for the sword, shakily. Suddenly, the brilliant blade began to dissolve, as if into dust. Micah's heart raced furiously. What was happening? He wondered. He thought with a sick feeling that Gardorous and the Great Deku Tree were both wrong, that he was not the One. But his hands continued on, ignoring their master's fears. The sword finished dissolving, and it was now a small, wooden, child's play sword. The hands wrapped tightly around the hilt. With a deep breath, Micah pulled.

The sword came free.

He held it aloft his head, and the simple wooden sword became beautiful again, shooting forth a new light, triumphantly proclaiming the coming of the One who would drive back Karod and reclaim the Dream Caster and all