The plane of divinity stretched endlessly, fractal and infinite, yet Samy felt a pull — subtle, yet insistent — from deep within his sigil. The pulse in his palm resonated with something ancient, something deliberate. It was not merely residual energy. It was a direction, a path.
"Follow… the seal," he whispered to himself. The sigil glowed brighter, a golden filament tracing a path through the shifting terrain. He took a step, and the fractal ground responded, solidifying beneath him as if a bridge were forming specifically for his passage.
The path led him to a wall of radiant light — shifting, solid, impossibly vast. At its center, a golden door emerged, etched with runes that hummed in resonance with his own sigil. Samy instinctively reached out. The metal was warm, almost alive, and his hand passed through the threshold as though it were water.
A soft, deep voice echoed in the vastness:
> "You have come far, mortal strategist."
Samy stiffened. The voice was layered — familiar yet alien, imbued with authority that made the plane itself seem to pause.
With deliberate resolve, he pushed the golden door open.
---
The Table of Seven
Before him lay a hall of impossible architecture. The walls, floor, and ceiling shimmered with flowing light, bending angles and perspectives in ways that defied reason. At the center stood a table of seven places, colossal, carved from a substance that seemed both solid and translucent, like crystallized sunlight.
Three figures occupied the seats immediately visible:
1. Nymera, radiant beyond any mortal conception, her true form divine and awe-inspiring. Wings of iridescent light stretched behind her, and her eyes reflected galaxies. She watched Samy with a calm that carried centuries of knowledge and judgment.
2. Khaelos, seated with an imposing presence. His form shimmered with shadows and golden light intertwined, a being of immense power, yet restrained. His gaze, piercing and calculating, fixed on Samy.
3. Another deity, a goddess of equilibrium, neither aligned fully with light nor shadow. Her presence exuded authority tempered with serenity, the kind of power that could judge worlds without haste. Her form radiated a gentle, yet undeniable, dominance.
Samy stepped forward cautiously, his sigil glowing in harmony with the ambient energy. The pulse from the gate had not vanished; it resonated, creating a tether between him and the mortal realm — Laura, Mira, Selene, and Lyra were still anchoring his projection remotely.
> "You have been guided here," Nymera spoke, voice flowing like liquid starlight. "Your seal is rare among mortals — a bridge between worlds, a harbinger of intent."
Khaelos' voice followed, layered with both curiosity and caution. "A mortal, daring enough to enter the plane of the divine. Tell me… do you understand what this entails?"
Samy steadied himself, recalling every lesson, every strategy, every calculated risk that had brought him here. "I understand that observation alone is insufficient," he said. "I seek understanding, yes. But also leverage — to protect my world and all it contains."
The goddess of equilibrium tilted her head slightly, her eyes like liquid silver. "Leverage. Mortals speak boldly, but do they comprehend the scales they attempt to balance?"
Samy's hand instinctively brushed the sigil. Its pulse quickened, responding not just to him, but to the proximity of these divine beings. A warmth spread through his body, anchoring his mind amidst the incomprehensible nature of the divine plane.
---
The Gathering of Insight
Nymera gestured toward the table. "Seven places. Only three are occupied now, but all who seek the Ascension Gate eventually approach this seat."
Samy's gaze swept the empty chairs. He felt the weight of history, of countless mortals who had dreamed, attempted, or failed. The golden door behind him shimmered faintly — a reminder that he could retreat, yet also that hesitation might cost him immeasurable opportunity.
Khaelos leaned forward slightly. "Mortals possess fleeting ingenuity, but you — strategist — you integrate knowledge beyond your span of life. Why should we consider your presence here more than arrogance?"
Samy held his ground, voice steady. "Because I do not seek dominion. I seek alignment. To understand, to anticipate, to ensure that the chaos between mortal and divine realms does not destroy what could be preserved."
The goddess of equilibrium observed him carefully, her expression unreadable. "Intent is powerful, but power itself tests intent. Few mortals survive here with clarity of purpose intact. Many falter, consumed by the plane's reflection of their own will."
Samy looked at the table, then back at the three deities. "Then I will not falter. I will learn. And I will act with precision."
Nymera's eyes gleamed. "Your seal reacts to your resolve. Step closer."
Samy moved forward. The sigil pulsed, tethering him to the table. As he approached, the golden door behind him vanished, and the light from the table spread outward, enveloping him in warmth and energy.
The deities watched silently, each evaluating, each measuring, as the pulse of the mortal strategist intertwined with divine awareness.
A soft hum filled the hall — the Ascension Gate had not merely transported him. It had brought him to the threshold of negotiation, judgment, and confrontation.
And for the first time, Samy understood: the true challenge was not surviving the divine plane, but engaging with beings who could see through every tactic, every calculation, and every heartbeat.
> The game had changed. And the board had seven seats.