The path behind them vanished.
Not slowly. Not softly. It erased itself like sand swept by wind.
Brughan's eyes went wide. "We… we can't go back!"
Salemadon didn't answer. His boots pressed into the glowing stone, feeling its pulse beneath him. The ground was alive. It remembered every step. And now it demanded more.
Althara reached out with her Threads. "It's moving… judging us."
A deep rumble shook the platform. Cracks split across the glowing ground, sending tiny shards into the air.
Salemadon felt Pahtem stir, hesitant. He didn't call it forward. Not yet.
He spread his arms, steadying himself. "Then we move forward. Together."
Brughan swallowed. "Forward… into what?"
Salemadon didn't answer. The ground spoke for itself.
THE JUDGING LAND
Ahead, the floor rose and fell like waves. One wrong step could drop them into darkness.
The air was thick, heavy. Every breath burned.
A shadow flickered along the edge of the rising cracks. Salemadon stepped closer. The shadow moved against the rhythm of the ground, sliding silently over the stone.
Althara's voice was tight. "It's not alive… but it's aware."
Brughan whispered, "I take that back. I'm moving backward."
Salemadon shook his head. "No. This is the test."
He lifted his hand, letting Pahtem pulse faintly. Threads snaked from his armor, touching the ground, reading its movement, guiding their steps.
The platform shivered. One sudden tilt and Althara nearly fell.
"Careful!" Salemadon barked, catching her with his Threads.
THE FIRST CONSEQUENCE
A long crack split the path directly in front of Salemadon. It was wide—too wide to jump.
Brughan froze. "We're done for."
Salemadon didn't flinch. He extended his Threads like fingers. The path shifted slightly. A bridge of light appeared, thin and trembling.
"Step fast," he shouted.
Althara went first, followed by Brughan. Salemadon went last. The bridge wobbled, but held.
The path behind them collapsed completely, a white-and-black ribbon of energy spiraling into nothing.
"No going back," Salemadon whispered.
THE SECOND CONSEQUENCE
The air above them twisted. Light bent unnaturally. A voice echoed.
"You were not meant to reach this point."
Salemadon's jaw tightened. "Who's there?"
No answer. Only the hum of the path beneath their feet.
The shadow from before rose slowly. It was tall, featureless, stretching across the path like darkness made solid.
Althara gripped her Threads. "It's testing him."
Salemadon stepped forward. Pahtem flared slightly. Not to attack, just to steady him.
The shadow lunged—fast, sudden, almost like a strike—but it passed through him. No harm, no wound.
Instead, the ground shifted violently. A spike of stone rose behind him, threatening to crush him if he moved backward.
Brughan groaned. "I hate this test!"
Salemadon didn't speak. He focused. One step at a time. Breath steady. Threads guiding, balancing, holding.
THE CHOICE
The shadow stopped just ahead, forming a wall of dark energy. The path split—one side rose into impossibly high jagged stone, the other sank into glowing mist.
Althara whispered, "Which way?"
Salemadon paused. He felt the path's pulse, the hesitation of Pahtem, the uncertainty in the Threads.
Then he stepped toward the mist.
The shadow flared, but did not attack.
The mist swallowed his legs up to the knees. Cold, lightless, moving. But he kept walking.
Brughan hesitated. "I… can't."
Salemadon reached out. "Then stay if you want. But I'm going."
Althara's Threads wrapped around his arm. "I'm with you."
Brughan looked at them, then at the collapsing path. "Fine…"
THE END HOOK
They disappeared into the mist.
The platform behind them had vanished entirely. No trace remained.
Above, the Gemini constellation shone faintly, cosmic light flickering like a warning.
A whisper echoed across the empty air:
"Every step forward has its cost… and every cost will come due."
The ground is no longer safe, and nothing will wait for you.
The path ahead was invisible. The ground had its own will. And the first real test of consequence had begun.