The threshold did not break.It breathed.
When the Trinity crossed, the door did not swing open like a gate—it dissolved, unraveling into threads of light that wove themselves around their bodies. Each step was not on stone, but on the covenant itself, carrying them upward along the infinite spiral.
At first, there was only ascent. No sound but the echo of their footsteps, no sight but the endless steps vanishing into eternity. Yet each heartbeat drew something forth from the silence. Murmurs. Echoes. Whispers—fragments of voices not their own.
Fenric paused, silver eyes narrowing. The air around him shimmered with faint specters, threads of memory from lives long gone. A farmer's song. A mother's lullaby. The prayer of a knight before battle. He clenched his fist. These are not ours.
Aria reached out, her emerald sparks brushing the drifting echoes. Her breath caught. "They're seeds… memories of others who climbed before. Not guardians. Not trials. Witnesses."
