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The faint hum of magic grew louder as she stepped through the shimmering trial gate. The moment her foot crossed the threshold, the stone beneath her feet dissolved, replaced by an odd weightlessness that made her feel as though she were suspended in a void.
Her breath caught as she looked around. The world was gone, replaced by a blinding expanse of light stretching endlessly in all directions. It wasn’t warm or cold, not oppressive but utterly inescapable, and it seemed to pulse faintly, like the rhythm of a heartbeat she couldn’t hear but could feel deep in her chest.
“Do not be alarmed,” a voice said, calm and steady, as though it had been waiting for her to arrive. It echoed softly, as if carried by the very air itself, wrapping around her like an unseen presence.
Her hands instinctively tightened on the straps of her makeshift pack. “Who’s there?” she asked, her voice sharp with tension.
“I am merely an observer,” the voice replied, its tone even and detached. “You’ve entered the trial, one meant not only for you but also for the one who walks beside you.”
She blinked, her brow furrowing as confusion flickered across her face. “Shared? With who?”
Beside her, a faint glow began to take shape. The outline of her spirit appeared, its soft, ethereal light forming until it hovered close to her shoulder. Its presence was a quiet comfort, though her grip on her pack didn’t ease.
“With the one who stands with you in both strength and doubt,” the observer explained. “A bond such as yours carries great potential, but also great fragility. This trial will reveal the truth of that bond—not to others, but to yourselves.”
Her gaze shifted to her spirit, her lips pressing into a thin, determined line. “And what kind of trial is this?”
“One of understanding,” the voice said simply. “You will face what binds you together and what could drive you apart. Step forward, and the trial will begin.”
For a moment, she hesitated. Her eyes flickered between the light that stretched ahead of her and the spirit at her side. Its faint glow seemed to shift, almost as if urging her onward. Taking a steadying breath, she gave a small nod and stepped forward.
The light around her shimmered, and the weightlessness disappeared as if a tether had yanked her back to solid ground. She felt the familiar sensation of earth beneath her feet, rough and stable, as her surroundings slowly came into focus.
She stirred, her senses sluggish and her mind clouded. When she opened her eyes, the world was dim and quiet, the soft glow of evening light filtering through cracks in the walls. She lay cradled in something warm, but there was an emptiness in her chest that she couldn’t place—like the faint ache of something missing.
Her eyes fluttered open to the dim light filtering through cracks in the walls. The quiet warmth of the room surrounded her, familiar yet strangely distant. She pushed herself upright, her fingers brushing against the rough texture of vines that wrapped around the hunched figures nearby.
Something wasn’t right.
She couldn’t explain it, couldn’t put her finger on why, but the room felt… emptier than it should. Her eyes scanned the overgrown walls, the sagging roof, the piles of moss and leaves that had become as much a part of the space as the figures themselves. It was all the same, and yet—
Her chest tightened, a strange hollowness settling just beneath her ribs. It wasn’t fear, exactly, but a gnawing absence that made her shift uncomfortably where she sat. She glanced around again, her gaze darting from corner to corner, but nothing was missing. Not really.
She pushed herself to her feet, brushing dirt from her tunic. The faint ache in her chest refused to fade, but every time she tried to focus on it, her thoughts slipped away, leaving her with nothing but that lingering emptiness.
Her fingers grazed the edges of the makeshift table where her map usually sat, but the surface was bare. She glanced to the floor, her pack nowhere in sight.
“That’s strange,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. Her brow furrowed as she searched the room again, though she couldn’t have said what she was looking for.
The observer’s voice cut through the stillness, steady and calm. “Do you know where you are?”This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
She froze, her heart lurching at the unexpected sound. “What—who’s there?”
The voice ignored her question. “Do you know where you are?”
Her gaze flicked to the figures in the corner, their forms still wrapped in greenery. Her hands tightened into fists at her sides. “I’m home,” she said, but the words felt foreign, hollow.
The observer’s voice softened, as though it were considering her response. “And yet, it doesn’t feel right, does it?”
Her lips parted, but no sound came. The hollowness in her chest swelled, twisting into something heavier, sharper.
“What is this?” she demanded, her voice unsteady. “Why does everything feel so… wrong?”
“This is your trial,” the voice replied, even and unyielding. “You’ve lost something, though you don’t yet remember what. To move forward, you must find it.”
“I haven’t lost anything,” she snapped, the words coming out harsher than she intended.
The silence that followed pressed down on her, suffocating.
The room began to shift. The walls cracked and splintered, vines pulling away from the surfaces they had clung to for years. The figures in the corner blurred, their shapes dissolving into shadow.
“No!” she cried, reaching out instinctively, though she didn’t know why. Her hands met only empty air as the figures melted into the creeping darkness.
The warmth of the cottage faded, replaced by a biting chill. She stumbled backward, her bare feet landing on rough, uneven ground.
When she looked up, she found herself in the middle of a vast, overgrown city.
Her breath caught in her throat as she turned in place, taking in the towering ruins around her. The vines that crept along the fractured walls seemed to shift unnaturally, their movements almost alive. The air was thick, heavy, and the silence wasn’t peaceful—it was oppressive, weighing on her like an invisible hand.
Her hands clenched into fists again, her shoulders tense. “This isn’t right,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
From his perch in the void between realms, Caelus watched the trial unfold, his gaze lingering on the girl as she stepped hesitantly through the overgrown city. Her movements were deliberate, cautious, her eyes darting through the ruins as though searching for something she couldn’t name.
“Even now, she doesn’t realize what’s missing,” he mused quietly, his tone thoughtful. “Or perhaps she feels it but doesn’t yet understand. A bond severed is not easily repaired… if it can be repaired at all.”
His focus shifted, his awareness extending beyond the girl and into the vast expanse of the trial’s construct. The forest surrounding the city rippled faintly, its edges flickering with an otherworldly glow. Deep within its tangled heart, something stirred.
A faint glimmer, barely perceptible, pulsed erratically in the shadows.
Caelus’s brow furrowed as his attention settled on the fragmented light. It was small, weak, but alive. Barely.
“Lost,” he murmured, his voice soft, almost reverent. “Drifting on the edge of forgetting… and yet it lingers.”
The forest seemed to breathe, its silence deepening as the flickering light hovered uncertainly in the shadows. Caelus leaned forward slightly, his expression unreadable. “And so the other half wanders, searching for what it doesn’t remember. Will they find each other before the void consumes them both?”
The question hung in the air, unanswered, as the world shifted again, leaving Caelus behind.
The forest was a labyrinth of shadows and silence, its towering trees stretching endlessly into the dim, colorless light. A spirit drifted aimlessly through the undergrowth, its faint glow pulsing irregularly, like a heartbeat out of rhythm.
It didn’t know how long it had been wandering. Time was meaningless here, and the trees stretched endlessly in every direction, their roots twisting across the ground like the veins of a living creature. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, broken only by the faint rustle of leaves as the spirit passed.
Something was missing.
It didn’t know what, but the absence gnawed at it, a hollow ache that radiated through its very essence. It floated forward, the faint shimmer of its form dimming with each passing moment. It wasn’t exhaustion—it couldn’t feel tired—but there was a weight dragging it down, pulling at the edges of its awareness.
The spirit paused, its form flickering like a flame caught in a draft. It tilted, as though listening for something, but the forest was silent. Nothing answered its unspoken call.
What had it lost?
It searched its fragmented thoughts, but there was nothing there. No memory, no name, no sense of where it had come from or why it was here. Only that gnawing emptiness, that unshakable feeling that something vital had been ripped away.
It hovered near the base of a massive tree, its roots sprawling outward like tendrils. The spirit’s faint glow reflected against the slick, moss-covered bark, casting wavering patterns across the ground. It drifted closer, brushing against the tree as though seeking comfort, but the rough texture sent a jolt through its form.
The spirit recoiled, its glow brightening momentarily before dimming again. It pulsed erratically, its edges fraying like threads coming undone.
It needed to find something—anything—but it didn’t know what to look for.
As it floated onward, the forest seemed to grow darker, the trees looming closer together. The spirit hesitated, its movements slowing. The air was thicker here, heavier, and the faint shimmer of its glow barely penetrated the shadows.
It hovered uncertainly, its light flickering like a candle in a storm. The ache within it grew sharper, almost unbearable, as though the weight of its own existence were pressing inward.
A sudden noise broke the silence—a faint hum, low and resonant, like the distant echo of a voice.
The spirit froze, its flickering slowing as it turned toward the sound. The hum was faint, almost imperceptible, but it felt… familiar.
It drifted forward again, drawn by the sound like a moth to a flame. The forest around it seemed to ripple, the shadows deepening and the air trembling faintly with each pulse of the hum.
The spirit’s glow brightened slightly, its movements growing more certain. The ache within it didn’t fade, but it was overshadowed now by something else—a pull, a whisper that urged it onward.
It didn’t know what lay ahead, but the faint echo of familiarity was enough.