I left the Well of Mirrors behind.
But its weight clung to me—like frost that refused to melt, like a whisper that lingered long after the speaker had gone. Each step I took felt heavier than the last, as if the forest pressed itself against my back, reluctant to release me from its quiet grasp.
The sky above was shifting—turning bruised violet and iron-gray. Twilight again. Or was it dawn? Time in this world bled strangely, like threads unraveling from a cloth I could no longer fold neatly in my mind.
I paused near a fallen log, its bark slick with strange silver moss that pulsed faintly in the growing gloom. My fingers brushed the surface.
Warm.
Alive.
Everything here was alive.
Even the air.
Even the silence.
"The Deep Trial has begun."
The words haunted me. Echoed endlessly. What trial? What purpose? The Witness had spoken in riddles, the Well had shown glimpses—but nothing clear. Only choices without meaning, doors without keys, paths twisting into shadow.
And then... I heard it.
A sound.
Faint.
Far.
Like distant bells ringing beneath the earth.
I turned slowly, scanning the forest. But nothing stirred. No wind. No creature. No watcher in the dark.
Yet the sound came again—soft, hollow, rhythmic.
Clink. Clink. Clink.
Chains.
Somewhere, far deeper in this world, chains were moving. Sliding. Stretching.
Breaking.
I felt the LAW's mark burn briefly on my chest—then cool, like embers choked by ash.
Suddenly the forest ahead opened, revealing a clearing bathed in faint silver light.
And standing there—alone—was a figure.
Tall. Still. Wrapped in a cloak of midnight feathers that whispered without wind. Its face was hidden beneath a bone-white mask carved into the shape of a silent scream. Around its hands, iron chains hung loosely—trailing into the soil like roots.
The air tightened.
The LAW surged faintly in my mind, and I knew without knowing:
A Called. Another. One of the Hundred.
My heart raced.
I raised my hand slowly, cautiously. "Who... are you?"
The figure turned.
Even behind the mask, I felt its gaze like a weight pressing against my thoughts.
A voice—low, hollow, and distant, as if spoken through stone—answered:
"I am the Sealed One. The Bound Voice. The Last Chain of the First Called."
I swallowed. My mouth dry. "The First Called... they were real?"
The figure tilted its head slightly.
"They were... and are... and will be. The First do not die. They slumber. Waiting. Until the Chain breaks."
I stepped closer, curiosity battling fear.
"Why are you here? What is this Trial?"
The chains around the Sealed One stirred—rattling softly like wind chimes made of iron.
"The Trial of Mirrors awakens those who touch the Fifth Option. Few ever return whole. Fewer still change the weave. But you... have written a word forbidden. A word of defiance."
My skin prickled.
"You saw that?"
"I felt it. Across the Chain. Across the slumbering LAW. Defiance cracks the Pattern. A thread unravels. And the First... feel it stir."
The Sealed One raised a hand. From the shadows beneath its cloak, something slid forth—a tiny glass sphere, faintly glowing with inner light.
It hovered between us.
"Take this," the voice intoned. "A fragment of their dream. Their memory. Their warning."
I hesitated.
"What is it?"
"A memory of the First Called. The price of their failure. The burden they could not bear. Yours now... if you dare to see."
I reached out.
Fingers closed around the sphere.
Pain lanced through my mind—sharp and cold—and the world shattered into shadow.
---
A vision.
Endless darkness.
A Tower that scraped the stars.
Chained figures knelt in vast circles around its base—thousands, maybe millions—all bound by iron threads that shimmered with starlight. Their faces hidden. Their hands raised toward the sky.
And above them—the sky itself opened.
A hole.
A mouth.
A gate of terrible light.
And something—something vast and watching—began to descend.
The First Called screamed.
Their chains broke.
Their LAW burned.
And the world cracked beneath them.
---
I gasped—staggering back into the forest clearing. The sphere crumbled into dust in my hand.
The Sealed One stood unmoving.
"The First Called... they failed?" I whispered.
"They rose too soon. Reached too far. The Gate opened... and they were consumed. Their failure is sealed in the Chain. But now... you have touched the Fifth. You awaken what they could not."
I shivered.
"What is the Gate? What's on the other side?"
The Sealed One was silent.
Then, softly, sadly:
"The End of Things. And the Beginning."
The chains around its wrists tightened, drawing slowly into the soil.
"My time fades. The Chain pulls me below. But hear this, Bearer of the Fifth Option: You are no longer unseen. The Watcher knows you. The Tower dreams of you. And the Eyes of the LAW... open wide."
The air thickened. The soil trembled.
The figure began to sink—slowly—into the earth, chains dragging it downward into shadow.
"Wait!" I called. "What should I do? How do I survive this?"
Its voice echoed faintly, fading into darkness:
"Seek the Chain of Distant Calls. Follow the bells. Find the Lost City. There... the truth slumbers."
And then it was gone.
Swallowed by the earth.
Only the faint sound of bells remained—clinking softly, endlessly, far below the world.
I stood alone in the clearing—heart pounding, mind racing, the LAW mark burning like a wound.
The Tower... the Chain... the Gate...
What was I walking into?
What force was watching me now?
Above—far above—I thought I saw movement in the darkening sky.
A shape.
Vast.
Winged.
Turning slowly.
Its eye glinting like silver fire.
Watching.
Waiting.
---