Kieran's breath slowed. Not because the intense amount of fear that had enveloped him had passed, but because the cathedral allowed it.
The pulsing of the cathedral faded; the constellations above dimmed. The symbols settled into stillness.
He stood.
The marble beneath his feet was warm; ahead, the far wall shimmered faintly. A new structure had built itself right in front of Kieran. It had been carved out of the same white stone as the monolith's platform. It resembled an altar, but not for worship.
For testing.
Kieran approached it.
The structure was covered in glyphs; some familiar, some broken. Above it, suspended in that air, were seven translucent discs. Each one pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat.
Below the discs, etched into the stone, glowed a phrase:
"Only the silent may sing."
Kieran stared, trying to understand what this was asking of him. Then the discs began to hum. Not with sound but with memory. Each one projected a moment, faint and flickering.
It showed a corridor, a ripple in the black sea, a red handprint, three large doors, a green leaf and a thick pool.
Seven fragments and seven truths, but only one was his.
Kiearn understood this was a puzzle. He had to choose the memory that truly belonged to him.
He reached out, touching the disc showing the green leaf; it pulsed once and then dimmed, and the others vanished.
The altar shifted.
A second phrase appeared:
"Only the broken may be whole."
This time, the altar revealed a set of symbols, spirals, ratios, and constellations. They rearranged themselves constantly, never settling. Kieran watched, trying to find the pattern.
Kieran stared at them for a long time, looking for anything different in all of them.
Then he saw it; actually, it is better said that he felt it. One symbol repeated, not in shape but in rhythm; it pulsed in time with his breath.
He reached out to it and touched it; the symbol froze, and the altar opened. Inside was a single object, bound in a frost-coated bark, etched with the golden spiral.
It pulsed once in his hand and then went still.
And the cathedral listened.
Kieran opened the book and read out loud:
"Those who read this book have already been damned. When you pass those doors of how you so crave, it shall be your demise in the true self of you. For you shall see it, the thing that is everything."
Kieran gulped as he carried on reading.
"It does not walk, for it has no need; it does not breathe, as it has no use. It is here; it is there; therefore, it is everywhere. For you are damned child; you can call it whatever you want, a king, a god or more. It is…"
The cathedral darkened. Not with a shadow but with an absence.
The constellations above blinked out, one by one, until only a single spiral remained, a burning gold against the void.
DON'T LOOK FORWARD. DON'T LOOK FORWARD. DON'T LOOK FORWARD.
DON'T LOOK FORWARD. DON'T LOOK FORWARD.
DON'T LOOK FORWARD.
DON'T LOOK FORWARD. DON'T LOOK FORWARD.
DON'T LOOK FORWARD. DON'T LOOK FORWARD. DON'T LOOK FORWARD.
Every single atom in Kieran's body is warning him to not look forward, because if he does…
Kiearn looks forward. It was there.
Suspended in the air like a marionette with no strings. A figure, elongated and skeletal, its limbs stretched beyond proportion, its torso twisted like a question never answered. Its surface shimmered with black bone and fractured geometry, as if reality itself had failed to render it properly.
It was simple: Kieran couldn't fully understand the thing in front of him.
At its centre, a wound, a red core, pulsing faintly, similar to the one the cathedral was emitting earlier.
The entity did not move.
For it is knowledge incarnate; it glared at him with no eyes, and it spoke without sound.
Kiearn felt it, not in his ears but in his meaning.
"You have read the book. You have opened the door; you have invited me."
Kieran stared at the entity. Kieran's mouth was dry.
His thoughts were no longer his own. He tried to speak, but the words came out wrong, twisted, inverted, as if the language itself had been rewritten mid-breath.
The whispering returned, screaming at him from all directions.
"I… I am… I am not…"
Not what?
Not ready?
Not real?
Not alone?
Kieran saw. Not with his eyes. With his identity.
He saw the cathedral as it truly was, a vessel, not a place. A mouth, not a sanctuary. The constellations above were not stars. They were instructions. The monolith had not transported him. It had translated it.
He dropped to his knees.
The book lay open beside him, its pages turning on their own, revealing symbols that bled into one another, forming spirals that whispered his name in languages he had never learnt but somehow remembered.
Kieran clutched his head.
The entity did not move.
It did not need to.
It was already inside him.
He saw the forest again. The traps. The wall. The pool.
But they were not memories. They were preludes.
This being had been watching since the beginning.
Not from afar. From within.
Kieran laughed.
Softly.
Then louder.
And louder.
Then stopped.
He stood. Not because he was ready. He had to help his friend.