The corridor beyond the bell chamber was silent—too silent.
Ashen stumbled forward, Mara close behind, his hands still trembling from the exertion. The mark on his chest throbbed faintly, as if reminding him that the presence below had not truly left, only retreated.
"You okay?" Mara asked, eyes scanning every shadow.
"I will be," he muttered, though he wasn't certain he believed it. "For now."
They moved carefully, boots scraping stone, echoes bouncing far too precisely. The walls seemed to lean inward, pressing the air thickly against them. Every so often, a symbol burned faintly along the walls—the same sigil from his chest. He realized it was a warning: the corridor itself was alive, feeding on their fear.
Ahead, a dim glow pulsed. Ashen slowed, heart hammering. Mara followed suit, gripping her dagger like a lifeline.
A voice came—soft, insistent, almost gentle.
Step lightly, bearer.
Ashen froze.
"Who's there?" he whispered.
I am the threshold keeper.
The floor ahead shuddered. Light flickered across it, revealing faint outlines—dozens of shallow pits, each filled with black liquid that reflected not their images, but their memories.
Mara's eyes widened. "Those… those aren't water."
Ashen leaned closer. He saw himself in the nearest pit, but the reflection twisted. His face aged and twisted in pain; his mother's frightened eyes stared back at him, her hand reaching out but fading before he could grasp it. Then his own eyes burned red as he screamed silently.
"They're traps," he realized. "Tests."
Correct, the voice said. Every step must be chosen with truth. One misstep, and the corridor feeds.
"Feeds?" Mara echoed.
On fear, regret, and blood. Be careful.
Ashen took a deep breath. Each step felt like wading through cold tar. The pits stretched in a winding path, some shallow, some nearly bottomless. He had to rely not on sight, but on instinct. Every wrong choice could trap him—or worse.
Mara stayed at his side, whispering encouragement, though her own hands shook.
The first pit was simple. Ashen stepped lightly to the stone beside it, careful not to touch the black liquid. The reflection rippled. A voice—his mother's—whispered, Why didn't you stay?
He froze, chest tightening.
"I… I couldn't," he said aloud. "I had to live."
The pit calmed.
They moved on.
The next pits were harder. Reflections twisted into fears—his own death, Mara's scream, the town burning. Shadows flickered, almost solid, creeping toward them, trying to push them into the liquid.
Ashen's mark flared bright. He gritted his teeth and forced the shadows back with sheer will, feeling the corridors' resistance, feeling the presence of the threshold keeper measuring him.
Halfway through, a pit revealed something worse: Ashen himself, older, chained, screaming as the bell's chain tightened around him from below. The reflection's eyes glowed green, full of malice.
He staggered backward. "No… no!"
Mara grabbed him. "It's not real! Don't let it control you!"
Ashen clenched his fists, focusing on the heat in his chest—the mark, the chains, the bell. The reflection flinched, shattered, and sank into the pit like smoke.
They advanced carefully, moving faster now. The corridor was narrower, the pits closer together, the shadows more insistent. Every step demanded strength, clarity, and courage.
Finally, the corridor opened into a vast chamber. The ceiling was impossibly high, the walls etched with pulsating sigils. At the center, a pedestal glowed faintly, holding a small iron key—ornate, inscribed with the same mark as Ashen's chest.
Bearer, the threshold keeper's voice said. Claim what is yours, or be claimed.
Ashen stepped forward. His hands shook as he reached for the key. The mark on his chest flared, resonating with the pedestal. He grasped it.
Pain exploded across his body. The reflection of his own chained self appeared again, screaming. Ashen gritted his teeth, focusing on his intention: to bind, not to break.
The reflection shattered.
The key burned in his hand, then cooled. The chamber stilled. The pits vanished, the shadows retreated, and the corridor returned to still stone.
Mara exhaled sharply. "That was… a lot."
Ashen looked down at the key. "It's only the first trial."
A deep, hollow echo came from below. The bell awaited.
The gate watches, the threshold keeper murmured. And you are only beginning.