Kael stirred to the soft, insistent hum of the Cognitive Gateway.
The lingering warmth of Oakhaven, the oppressive weight of its cracking silence, the profound gravity of the choice he'd made – all of it clung to the edges of his vision like smoke after a fierce fire.
He opened his eyes slowly, the dim light of the chamber filtering in.
The room was a study in muted cerulean, the low glow emanating from containment runes intricately embedded in the polished floor. The platform beneath him vibrated with a gentle resonance, coaxing him back into the tangible reality of his body.
He sat up, a groan escaping his lips.
The ache hit him in sluggish waves – muscles stiff and protesting, thoughts moving through a thick fog, as if he'd been submerged in deep water for too long and was only now breaking the surface. The air carried the sterile scent of dust and magic, underscored by the faint, earthy aroma of old stone.
Across the circular chamber, Erick stood with his arms folded across his chest, his gaze steady and watchful.
"Three hours," Erick said, his voice calm and measured. "Longer than most take."
Kael blinked, his throat feeling like sandpaper. "Three…? i thought you said I'll be in there for at least a week."
Erick nodded once. "Well yes i did...That was just a simple lie to disrupt you flow of time in there."
Kael swallowed, his movement painful. His voice, when it finally came, was raw and unfamiliar. "That place… Oakhaven… it wasn't just a dream, was it?"
Erick stepped forward, his expression serious. "No, It wasn't....well it was, but.... you know what just forget about that, it isn't important."
Kael looked down at his hands, turning them over, expecting to find some visible mark – a scar, a lingering burn, anything to signify the profound experience. But they appeared unchanged. The weight, however, was still there, a silent burden he carried within.
"I took it in," he said quietly, the words barely a whisper. "I chose the god. Or… the thing that pretended to be one."
Erick crouched beside the edge of the platform, his eyes level with Kael's. "Not a god. A ghoul, by another name. It's called a Vokari."
Kael met his gaze, a wave of stunned disbelief washing over him.
Erick offered a faint, almost weary smile. "Yeah. Real. Ancient. A long time ago, one surfaced in a Lowland. It fed on sound, on the raw emotions carried through voice. It stole the speech of an entire village before they managed to contain it."
"And they didn't… destroy it?"
"they couldn't." Erick's smile faded, replaced by a shadow of grim memory. "Too intelligent. Too… slippery. But It offered a bargain – exile instead of complete eradication. We bound it to the Network of the Gate. It became a part of the Trial – twisted, certainly, but… stable."
Kael's chest tightened, a cold dread settling within him. "You knew I'd face it."
"I did," Erick confirmed, his gaze unwavering. "Everyone who enters this prototype Gate does. That town, Oakhaven – its layout, its inhabitants, they shift with each iteration. New details emerge, different faces appear. But the core structure remains the same. The same fundamental choice."
He paused, his voice dropping to a more somber tone.
"And the same but different companion."
Kael's breath hitched in his throat. "Two-Tap…"
Erick nodded, his expression knowing. "A projection. An emotional anchor, a cipher woven from the threads of your own subconscious. The system uses them to test your empathy, your capacity for connection. Most people fail, Kael. They follow the path of least resistance – sacrifice the companion, silence the insidious voice, sever the connection. End the trial quickly, cleanly, and… cowardly."
"..."
"You didn't," Erick said, his voice carrying a note of something akin to respect. "You carried the weight. You allowed the Vokari in."
"So now what?" Kael asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Is it… inside me? Did I irrevocably damage something?"
"Of course not" Erick clarified. "Everything that happens in there remains in there, it just resets waiting for the next taker. You didn't release anything into the world. You simply… acknowledged a difficult truth: that some forms of power aren't meant to be destroyed. They must be… shouldered."
Kael nodded slowly, the weight of Erick's words settling upon him.
Kael dressed in the provided silence, the dull ache in his bones a constant, unwelcome reminder of his ordeal.
Erick handed him a neatly folded bundle: practical travel gear, a small steel badge marked with a constellation of seven stars, and a sealed parchment scroll bearing an intricate sigil.
"What's this?"
"Your recommendation and identification," Erick explained. "You'll need both to access the Highridge teleportation chamber. That will take you to Orvale. From there, the final leg to Aetherion."
"The academy," Kael said, the word feeling foreign and weighty on his tongue.
"Where the real work begins," Erick replied, his gaze intense.
Kael stared at the cool steel of the badge in his palm. "Why me? You've been nothing but kind to me since the moment we met...Why? Why are you helping me?"
Erick released a long, weary sigh, the sound heavy in the quiet chamber. "Because once, a long time ago, I stood where you stood. And I made the wrong choice. But someone helped me. And also because... I saw something in you that day. Not just the aftermath of the battle. Something else. I don't know what it was, But I trust my instincts."
Kael looked up sharply, a flicker of understanding in his eyes.
Kael stood, the scroll and badge feeling heavy in his hand, symbols of a future he hadn't anticipated.
"What if I fail, down the line?" he asked, the question laced with a genuine fear.
"Then learn from it." Erick said, his gaze direct and unwavering. "And keep going. That's all any of us can do."
.....
Later, Kael stood by the chamber's narrow window, watching the sun begin its slow descent behind the jagged peaks on the horizon.
The sky transformed into a breathtaking canvas of soft gold bleeding into fiery orange and deep, contemplative violet.
He thought of Two-Tap.
Of the fragile hum that had been her first act of defiance.
Of the way she had smiled through the silent tears, a beacon of resilience.
Of how it felt to carry a secret weight, unseen by others – and to choose, consciously, to bear it anyway.
He didn't have all the answers. The path ahead was shrouded in uncertainty.
But he had direction, a compass pointing towards a future he now had to face.
And sometimes, in the vast emptiness of the unknown, that fragile sense of direction was enough.
He turned from the window, the fading light casting long shadows across the chamber floor.
Tomorrow, the arduous road to Aetherion would begin.