The chamber swallowed them whole.
Their boots echoed faintly on the obsidian floor as they stepped from the safety of the ship. The air was heavy, tinged with a metallic tang that clung to the back of Kaelen's throat. Overhead, glyphs rippled across the black pillars like constellations rearranging themselves in real time.
The sphere at the chamber's center pulsed once—deep and resonant. The ground trembled, and the alien whisper filled the air again.
"Prove you are worthy."
Kaelen's chest tightened. His fingers itched toward the glowing data crystal, still pulsing in his pocket. Lyra's hand never strayed from her blaster, though the weapon seemed absurdly fragile in the presence of something so vast.
"Prove it how?" Lyra muttered. "A duel? A blood sacrifice? Or maybe it's a cosmic spelling bee?"
Her sarcasm didn't mask the tension in her stance. She was ready to fight—or run—if the moment demanded it.
Without warning, the floor beneath them fractured. Segments of the chamber split apart, forming a jagged circle. The two of them stood stranded on a platform as molten light churned in the abyss below.
Kaelen staggered, arms outstretched for balance. Lyra grabbed his sleeve, steadying him, her grip firm.
"Stay sharp, Doctor," she said. "Looks like our hosts enjoy theater."
From the abyss, shapes began to rise.
Not machines. Not exactly. They were figures of light and shadow, humanoid in form but shifting constantly, as though reality itself couldn't decide what they were. Each carried a blade of pure energy, glowing with the same rhythm as the sphere.
Three of them.
They circled the platform, silent, faceless, waiting.
Kaelen's throat went dry. "Constructs. Tests of combat—"
Lyra pulled her blaster free with a grin that was equal parts reckless and furious. "Finally. A language I speak."
The constructs lunged.
Lyra fired, bolts of plasma slamming into the nearest figure. The blast tore through its body—yet the hole closed instantly, the form reknitting itself like liquid light. It didn't even falter.
Kaelen's pulse spiked. "They're not physical—they're projections!"
One of the constructs swept its blade at him. He barely ducked, the heat of the strike grazing his cheek. Panic flared—he had no weapon, no training.
"Lyra!" he shouted.
She kicked one of the figures back, her movements sharp, controlled, soldier-like. But even she couldn't hold off three foes that reformed with every strike.
"They're endless!" she spat, blocking another slash.
Kaelen's mind raced. He looked down at the glowing crystal in his hand—the one object the constructs seemed to avoid. Its pulse matched the rhythm of their movements.
Realization struck him like lightning.
"It's not about killing them," he shouted. "It's about understanding the pattern. Syncing with it!"
Lyra growled, barely dodging another blow. "Then figure it out fast before I'm space dust!"
Kaelen dropped to his knees, pressing the crystal against the platform. The glyphs around them flared, rearranging. The constructs froze mid-strike, their blades hovering inches from Lyra's chest.
She stood still, chest heaving, eyes darting between the figures and Kaelen.
The whisper returned, colder now, almost approving:
"One proves by knowledge, the other by will. Together, you survive."
The constructs dissolved into mist. The platform reassembled, sealing the abyss below.
Lyra exhaled slowly, lowering her weapon. She shot Kaelen a long look—half grudging respect, half irritation. "Remind me never to doubt your brain again, Doctor."
Kaelen managed a shaky smile. "And I'll never doubt your trigger finger."
The sphere pulsed brighter, opening like an eye. A doorway appeared in its surface, light spilling out.
The whisper coiled around them, promising both revelation and doom:
"Step forward. Deeper trials await."
Lyra holstered her blaster, smirking despite the tension. "I'm starting to hate how curious I am."
Kaelen's gaze never left the light. Obsession burned in his eyes. "We've come too far to stop now."
And together, they stepped into the sphere.