The passage was narrow and confining, its rough walls pressing close on either side. Each step scraped my shoulders against the cold stone, my breath echoing too loudly in the cramped tunnel as if the mountain itself was mocking me. The air was damp and heavy, clinging to my skin like sweat I hadn't earned. It smelled of wet earth, of something old and unsettled.
At first, the only sound was the steady rhythm of my own footsteps, but soon another noise reached me, a faint rustling in the distance. It wasn't the drip of water like earlier or the creak of shifting rock. No, it was rhythmic, unsettling, like countless wings beating in uneven harmony. The further I pressed on, the louder it became.
The tunnel began to widen, a faint glow marking its end. Relief whispered to me at the sight of space beyond the chokehold of these walls, but dread followed close behind. In this cursed place, light was never a gift. It was always a warning.
I stepped out, and the sight hit me so hard I froze.
The chamber was massive, far larger than anything I'd expected. My voice caught in my throat as I exhaled, the sound instantly swallowed by the sheer scale of the space. The walls stretched upward until they vanished into shadow, the faint glow struggling to touch the far edges. The air pressed down on me.
Movement filled the space. Flickering shadows darted across the stone as the source of the noise became clear. I looked up.
Bats. Hundreds-maybe thousands. They churned in a frenzy near the unseen ceiling, their wings beating the air in a harsh rhythm that throbbed like a living pulse. The sound wasn't just noise; it was a heartbeat that seemed to belong to the chamber itself. Each beat sent shadows leaping across the walls, tricking my eyes into believing the stone was shifting, breathing. I found myself wondering if the bats I'd seen in the first chamber had flown out from here, this restless hive above my head.
My eyes drifted back to the wall, and this time I really saw it. The details I'd missed before stood out sharp in the glow of the insects. A sound slipped from me, half gasp, half groan, carried by the weight of what I was looking at.
It dominated the center of the chamber, rising higher than I could follow with my eyes. Its surface was jagged and uneven, ledges and handholds scattered like pieces of a cruel puzzle. There was no pattern, no fairness, no mercy in its design. It wasn't just tall, it was cruel...a monolith that seemed to mock me with its silent challenge.
My attention was drawn downward, to the base of the wall. My breath caught as I noticed the remains scattered across the ground. Bones lay strewn about in chaotic heaps, their stark white surfaces gleaming faintly in the dim light. The sight was grotesque, a chilling testament to the failures of those who had come before me. Jagged skulls and broken ribs stared back like warnings carved in bone.
I knelt cautiously, reaching for a small fragment though part of me expected it to vanish like the other tricks of this place. The surface was smooth and cold beneath my fingers, and my breath caught. For a moment I refused to believe it was real, certain it was just another illusion. I turned it in my hand to be sure, but the weight held true, sending a chill through me as the thought of who it once belonged to sank in. My stomach knotted as I set it back down, unwilling to hold it any longer.
I took another look around the chamber. The glowing insects clung to the walls in clusters, their faint light casting shifting halos that fought back the darkness. In their glow, the shape of the place came clearer. The chamber was round, perfectly circular, with eight separate entrances cut into the stone like watchful eyes.
The monolith stood at the center of it all, tall and unyielding, its surface swallowing the light instead of reflecting it. From each entrance, a narrow ledge reached toward the center, and the monolith rose from a ring of stone no wider than a small road. Beyond that ring was the same emptiness I had already learned to fear, a pit that swallowed light like it was hungry for it. A narrow ring of stone circled the monolith like a track, just wide enough for a person to shuffle along without turning sideways.
My stomach twisted as I stared into the void. Another pit. Another reminder that this place was made to confine, to test, maybe even to destroy. The question tightened in my chest until I could hardly breathe: where was I? What kind of place would be built like this?
I searched my mind for something solid to lean on and found nothing waiting for me there. No hero. No story. No certainty. Just my own breathing and the cold stone under my hands. If I stopped now, there would be no one to finish this for me.
This was not a story I could pause. The rules here were simple. Mistakes did not reset. They ended. My heartbeat quickened as I stepped closer to the wall, my fingertips brushing the rough surface. The cold stone radiated a weight that seemed to press down on me.
The bats above faded into the background as I drew in a slow breath. Fear still clawed at me, but it was joined by something else...determination. I could not let myself fail. I could not let fear win.
I backed away from the wall and slid down against the chamber's edge, my chest heaving. The truth was I was tired, not just in my body but in my mind. I stared at the dark openings scattered around the chamber and wondered if Kofi and the others would step through one of them. What if they didn't know the other paths were here? What if they hadn't faced these trials at all? The thought twisted in me, leaving me unsure whether I wanted them to appear or not. Either way, I couldn't chase answers now. I decided to give it a moment, to let the stillness settle while I caught my breath.
So I waited. Waiting felt safer, but as the minutes dragged on, I felt it in my body how safety became hunger, hunger became weakness, and weakness became death. My stomach tightened, empty and sour. The cold made my joints stiff faster than they should have, like the air was stealing calories out of me.
My eyes flicked from one archway to the next, straining for any sound, any movement. Nothing. Only the restless wings above me and the silent threat of the wall.
Frustration rose hot in my chest. "Kofi," I spat, the name bitter on my tongue. "All a this because of you. If mi survive and find something at the end, why mi fi hand it over? After mi nearly dead in here? Yuh really tek mi fi fool?"
I buried my face in my hands, trembling. The thought crept in, sharp and dangerous. Maybe I didn't even need to bring him anything. Treasure or not, if I came back with something to report, maybe Kofi would finally leave me alone. Maybe the bullying would stop if he believed I had gone through it and survived. And if I really did find something worth keeping? He didn't have to know.
But another thought came, darker and heavier. What if there was no treasure? What if all this suffering was for nothing?
I raised my head and studied the wall again. The pit, the puzzle with the vases, and now this climb, none of these trials seemed meant for ordinary people. No beast could cross that pit. No monster would bother with puzzles. This wasn't random. It felt deliberate.
"Magic," I whispered. "Some kind of spell." The words tightened my chest. "I'm not even sure I'm still in Jamaica anymore."
The thought scared me more than the wall itself. I had walked into the Blue Mountain with classmates, and now... now I could not tell what was real.
Whoever made this place had not built it for fun. There was purpose here. But what was it? To test me? To break me? Or to guard something hidden at the top?
The bats beat their wings louder, as if the chamber itself was listening.
I sighed and leaned my head back against the cold stone. "If nobody else comes through, then it's on me."
Silence answered. No voices from the tunnels. No footsteps. Only me.
After a while I pushed myself to my feet. My body ached, but sitting there would not change anything. My eyes locked onto the first ledge, just within reach. The bones at the base of the wall whispered their warning, but I could not wait any longer.
It was time to climb.
I stepped back, scanning the wall one last time. "Don't look down," I whispered to myself. "And don't stop."
The first ledge was just within reach. I crouched slightly, testing my footing against the slick stone beneath me. My fingers gripped the rough edge of the ledge, and I pulled myself upward. The rock bit into my palms, sharp and unyielding, but I welcomed the sensation. It reminded me that I was alive and that I could do this.
As I stood on the ledge, I glanced down at the chamber floor. The scattered remains seemed farther away now, but their presence lingered in my mind, a constant reminder of what failure looked like. I turned my gaze upward, toward the endless expanse of stone above me.
Every pull, every step, every moment stretched on like an eternity. The wall mocked me with its unfathomable rise, each handhold a test of my endurance, each ledge a reminder of how much farther I had to go. My arms burned, my legs trembled, and my fingers felt raw against the unyielding stone. The damp air seemed heavier the higher I climbed, sticking to my skin and filling my lungs with every labored breath.
I paused on a narrow ledge, pressing myself against the cold rock to catch my breath. My vision swam, and I fought to steady myself, my chest heaving as I drew in ragged gasps. When I glanced downward, my stomach lurched. The ground seemed impossibly far below, the scattered bones now no more than faint white smudges against the darkness. I tore my gaze away, forcing myself to look up at the next handhold.
The ledge beneath my boots felt solid at first, wide enough to take my weight, wide enough to let my knees unlock for a second. I shifted my stance, easing the strain in my arms, and for a heartbeat I let myself believe I had found a place to recover.
Then the stone changed.
It was subtle. Not a crack. Not a sound. Just a feeling. The ledge felt narrower beneath my feet, the rock slick where it had been rough before. I looked down and my stomach tightened. The space where my heel had been now barely existed, the edge pulling inward like the wall was slowly closing its grip.
I froze. Sitting here was not rest. It was permission to slip.
I pushed myself upright at once, heart pounding, fingers scrabbling for the next hold. The ledge did not collapse, but it did not forgive either. The wall had given me a choice and made it clear what the wrong one was. Comfort was temporary. Movement was not optional.
I climbed steadily, each pull draining more strength from my arms and legs. Time blurred, the strain weighing heavier with every movement. I had been climbing for what felt like far too long, yet the wall above still rose without end, the top no nearer than when I first began. My breaths came sharp and uneven, and unease pressed into me, twisting the thought that the stone itself was stretching higher with every step. No matter how hard I climbed, I was nowhere close to the top.
The bats above had grown quieter, their wings a faint whisper in the cavern. My world narrowed to the rock before me, the sharp edges biting into my skin as I forced myself higher. My arms screamed for relief, my legs shaking with every movement. The wind howled through the chamber, pulling at me with icy fingers, threatening to tear me away from the wall.
My fingers burned and went numb, the stone slick beneath my palms. I froze, pressed tight against the wall, not falling but not moving either. Panic clawed at my chest as my arms shook, threatening to give out. I stayed there longer than felt possible, breathing through the pain until the trembling eased just enough for me to shift my weight and reach again. No miracle came. Only time, strain, and the slow refusal to let go.
My stomach cramped without warning, a sharp, hollow twist that stole my breath for a second. I had not eaten since before the trials, and the climb was burning through what little I had left. The thought landed heavy and cold. Even if the wall did not kill me, staying here would. The mountain did not need to push me. It could simply wait.
The seconds ticked by so slowly as I stayed there, my heart pounding in my chest. Slowly, I pulled myself back onto the ledge, pressing my forehead against the cold stone as I tried to steady my breathing. The wind howled around me, but all I could hear was the blood rushing in my ears.
As I clung to the wall, my chest heaving and arms trembling, a surge of anger rose and then burned itself out just as quickly. Blame felt heavy in my mouth and useless in my body. Whoever had sent me here did not matter anymore. There was no one below to hear me curse them and no one above waiting to answer. All that mattered was the next grip, the next breath, the simple fact that letting go would end everything. I shut my eyes and pushed the thought away, because anger faded, but falling did not.
The urge to blame something still flickered in me, but it did not last. I did not need anger to climb. I needed decisions. One grip. One breath. One more reach. I kept moving because the wall did not care what I felt, and the pit below did not care what I deserved.
And then I made the mistake of looking down.
The ground, which had once been littered with the lifeless remains of past climbers, now seemed alive with movement. Wisps of shadowy figures emerged from the darkness below, their forms ethereal and shifting. They were human-shaped, but their edges were undefined, as though they were made of smoke. Their heads tilted upward, hollow, glowing eyes fixed on me. A low murmur rose from the abyss, faint at first but growing louder, like the whispers of a crowd.
The whispers turned to distorted voices, overlapping and incoherent at first. Then they grew clearer.
"You'll join us soon."
"You're no different."
"You'll fall, just like we did."
The whispers shifted. Not all of them sounded the same anymore.
One voice trembled, thin and brittle. "I stopped," it said. "I thought waiting would help. I thought the wall would give me time."
Another voice cut in, sharp and bitter. "I climbed too fast. I didn't think. I didn't listen. I ran out of strength before the stone ran out of height."
A third voice was quieter than the rest. Almost calm. "I trusted it," it murmured. "I trusted the ledge. I trusted the wall."
The words tangled together, not accusations now, but confessions. Different endings. Same result.
My chest tightened. There was no single mistake here. No clean rule to follow. Only choices, and the weight of them.
My breath hitched for a moment, and I tore my gaze away, pressing myself flat against the rock. "The Blood of Jesuz!!! You're not taking me," I growled, the shadows below driving me onward. My fingers dug into the stone, and I cursed under my breath, shaking my head as if to banish the haunting sight. But the whispers didn't stop. They echoed in my ears, relentless and accusing, each word a blow to my already fragile resolve.
"As if the climb itself wasn't hard enough," I muttered bitterly, my voice trembling with both frustration and fear.
The shadows below did not rush me. They lingered where they were, half-formed and patient, their hollow eyes turned upward. They did not climb. They did not reach. They did not have to. They waited the way gravity waits, certain that time would finish what fear had started. Their whispers drifted upward, calm and steady, carrying the weight of people who had once believed they would reach the top too.
"No," I breathed, the word barely sound at all.
I forced my hands to move. My arms screamed in protest as I reached for the next hold, stone scraping skin, jagged edges biting into my palms. I welcomed the pain. It was real. It was solid. It reminded me I was still here.
The whispers did not shout. They settled into the spaces between my breaths. Quiet. Confident. Repeating the same truths in different ways, as if repetition could make them inevitable.
You will fall.
You will get tired.
You will stop.
The calm certainty of it frightened me more than screaming ever could have.
I did not climb faster. I climbed because stopping felt worse. Each movement was slow and deliberate, my muscles shaking as I forced them to obey. The wall did not chase me, and neither did the shadows. They did not need to. Exhaustion would arrive on its own.
"I'm still moving," I whispered, not to them, but to myself. My voice sounded thin in the vastness of the chamber, but it was enough.
One grip.
One breath.
One more reach.
Time stopped behaving. Handholds came, then vanished behind me. My breath stayed rough, my muscles stayed loud, and the wall stayed endless. The whispers did not have to chase me. They only had to keep talking. Every reach felt heavier, not because I moved faster, but because I moved at all.
Just when I thought the climb would never end, my hand found something solid-something different. My fingers brushed against it, and with a jolt, I realized it was the edge. The top.
I hauled myself over, collapsing onto the cool stone. The wind softened, its once-relentless force reduced to a gentle breeze that whispered over me. My body felt like it had been wrung out, every muscle trembling with exhaustion. The climb was over, but I couldn't move. I couldn't even lift my head.
As I laid there gasping for air, I forced myself to turn my head and look back.
The wall was not as huge as it had felt. The height that had seemed endless now looked almost ordinary, and that realization hollowed me out instead of lifting me up. I had not conquered it. I had endured it. The distance I had fought through with shaking limbs and burning lungs felt wrong now, like something had been stretched thin and snapped back the moment I stopped climbing.
My hands began to shake, not from cold or effort, but from the delayed weight of it all. I had come closer to quitting than I wanted to admit. Closer to letting go. The thought embarrassed me in a way pain never had. There was no triumph here. No sense of victory. Just the quiet knowledge that if the wall had lasted a little longer, or if I had hesitated one breath more, I would be bones at the bottom like the others.
Whatever this place was, it did not reward strength. It measured refusal. And even that, it seemed, was barely enough.
I pressed my palms to the stone, trying to steady the spinning in my head. That was when I caught it, a shadow flickering at the edge of my vision. My heart jolted, the exhaustion momentarily forgotten as I strained to focus. The shape shifted like smoke caught in a draft, faint and without form, as though it had no place in the world yet refused to let go. It lingered for a moment, then bled back into the darkness, dissolving as if it had never been there at all.
But before it faded completely, a voice brushed against me, low and hollow, carrying words that chilled me more than the climb had. "You have done it. Now go, and complete the task we were not able to."
The stone beneath me hummed, low and steady, not loud enough to hear but strong enough to feel in my bones. The vibration traveled up my spine and settled behind my eyes. I tried to push myself up and realized my body would not answer. Not from fear. Not from pain. From emptiness.
The chamber dimmed, the glow of the insects thinning into distant points of light. The last thing I felt was the weight of the stone holding me still, as if the climb had taken everything it meant to take.
Then the darkness closed in.