The mist clung to them like a living thing. Cold, heavy, and shifting, it made every step uncertain. Salemadon led, boots sinking slightly into the gray floor, Threads flickering to steady him.
Brughan stumbled behind, eyes wide. "I… I can barely see!"
Althara's Threads glimmered faintly, wrapping around Salemadon's arm. "It's reacting to us. It knows we're here."
Salemadon's jaw tightened. "Then we show it control, not fear." He spread his arms, letting Pahtem pulse faintly, sensing the rhythm of the mist. The ground vibrated beneath them, slow and deep, like the heartbeat of some giant unseen creature.
THE SHADOWED GATE
Through the fog, a shape began to form. Jagged. Dark. Massive.
A gate.
It shimmered like black glass, streaked with veins of glowing white. Shadows clung to it, twisting and writhing as though breathing. The very air around it vibrated.
Brughan's voice trembled. "It's… huge. And… alive."
Salemadon stepped closer. Pahtem's threads flared, brushing against the mist and the edges of the gate. It responded to him. Pulsed. Waited. Judged.
Althara whispered, "It isn't just a gate. It's testing our intent."
Salemadon nodded. "Then we show courage."
The mist swirled violently. A spike of darkness shot from the gate's edge. Brughan barely rolled out of the way. "It wants us dead!"
Salemadon extended Threads, not to attack but to redirect the spike safely into the mist. The spike dissolved as if swallowed by the fog.
Althara's eyes widened. "It's controlling the environment too. It's alive in ways we can't imagine."
Salemadon's lips pressed tight. "Step carefully. Every movement matters."
THE FIRST TEST
The gate pulsed, dark energy rippling across its surface. More spikes erupted, aimed directly at them, faster this time.
Brughan ducked under one, then froze. "Salemadon… I don't know if I can—"
"Then hold my Threads," Salemadon said, grabbing his arm. Pahtem flared, stabilizing the ground beneath their feet.
Threads stretched outward, wrapping around the mist itself, manipulating the environment, holding the spikes at bay.
Althara gasped. "I've never seen anyone do that. He's… controlling the world around him."
The spikes froze. Then the gate shivered, opening slowly. Beyond it was a swirling void. Colors shifted unnaturally—white bleeding into black, shadows twisting like living things.
Salemadon swallowed. Something powerful waited. Not an enemy yet. But a presence older than any living being.
THE SECOND TEST: THE VOID REACHES
A whisper traveled through the mist. Low, deep, and cold:
"Only those who balance fear and courage may enter. Choose wisely."
Brughan's knees shook. "Do we… go in?"
Salemadon's voice was steady. "We have no choice. Step together."
He led forward, moving slowly but confidently. Threads anchored their path, stretching taut but holding.
The void pulsed, twisting around them. Shapes formed and vanished—like shadows of the past, twisted reflections of what they feared most.
Brughan flinched. "I… I can't tell what's real!"
Althara whispered, "Ignore them. Focus on Salemadon's Threads."
THE SHADOW FIGURE RETURNS
A shape emerged from the void—a tall, shifting shadow, larger than any man, darker than the deepest night. Its movements were fluid, almost liquid.
Salemadon froze, sensing its power pressing against him, testing him without touching. Pahtem's pulse flared involuntarily. Threads twitched.
Brughan whispered, "It… it's alive?"
Salemadon's jaw tightened. "It's waiting. Judging. Testing."
The shadow lunged, but instead of striking, it split into two identical shapes, surrounding them from both sides. The mist thickened, reducing visibility to barely a few steps.
Salemadon's hands moved instinctively. Threads shot outward, weaving between the shadow shapes. They didn't stop them—only redirected them, guiding Salemadon and the others through a deadly maze of darkness.
Althara's breath came fast. "I… I don't know if I can—"
Salemadon gripped her arm. "Then trust. Trust the Threads. Trust me. Step by step."
THE FINAL PUSH
The path narrowed. The mist spun faster, whipping at their bodies. Spikes of shadow shot from the edges, aiming to strike, but Salemadon dodged and guided the others with Pahtem's energy.
Brughan stumbled, nearly falling into a chasm that opened in the void. Salemadon caught him with a Thread, yanking him to safety.
A pulse of the gate flared. Light and shadow danced violently, and the mist roared like a living beast.
Salemadon's eyes glowed faintly, responding to Pahtem's instinct. Threads wrapped around the shadow shapes, holding them just long enough to move forward.
One more step. One more risk.
CLIFFHANGER
The shadows surged around them, then parted suddenly. In the center of the void, a glowing symbol appeared on Salemadon's armor—a mark he did not recognize. Pahtem pulsed violently in response, almost screaming.
The gate closed behind them with a deafening crack. Mist swirled thickly around their feet.
A voice echoed from the shadows, faint but chilling:
"Balance has a price… and your first cost begins now."
Salemadon's hand clenched. He whispered, almost to himself:
"This… this is only the beginning."
Every step forward could be your last, and the gate waits for the brave.
The Shadowed Gate had tested them. The mist had secrets, the shadows had power, and Salemadon had only one choice: move forward—or be lost forever.