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The gate did not open with force.
It exhaled.
A faint shimmer passed over its obsidian and silver surface, rippling like light on deep water. The script etched into its frame flared once, then dimmed again, leaving only a steady, quiet pulse beneath Jin's palm.
Behind him, Myra and Soren waited. Neither spoke. The stillness of the Ashen Sky seemed heavier here, as though the world itself held its breath.
Jin let his fingers rest on the cold metal a moment longer, then pushed.
The gate moved without sound, swinging inward to reveal only darkness. Not the kind that swallowed sight, but the kind that seemed to breathe — slow, patient, and watching.
"It listens still," Myra murmured.
Jin stepped through.
The ground changed beneath his feet. Ash gave way to stone, worn smooth by time. The air shifted from the dry heat of the basin to something cooler, laced with the faint scent of rain long past.
When the darkness lifted, they stood in a vast hall. Pillars of pale stone rose in endless rows, each carved with scenes Jin could not place — battles fought in silence, rivers flowing upward into the sky, gates without doors leading into stars.
Light seeped in from no source he could see, casting the space in muted silver. The floor bore a spiral etched so fine it seemed to move when glanced at from the corner of his eye.
Soren's voice broke the stillness. "This place… it is not the same realm."
"No," Jin agreed softly. "It is not."
They moved forward together, their steps echoing faintly against the distant walls. The air was not entirely still — every few breaths, a sound drifted through the hall. A chime, low and soft, like crystal struck by the wind.
At the center of the spiral stood a dais. Upon it rested a single object: a mask of dark metal, unbroken and polished to a mirror sheen. The moment Jin's gaze fell on it, the chime sounded again, closer this time.
"It is for you," Myra said quietly.
Jin approached. The mask reflected his face in perfect clarity, but the eyes in the reflection did not move as he did. They watched him, unblinking.
When he reached for it, the metal was cold. Not lifeless, but cold in the way of something that had waited far too long.
The chime rang again — this time from within his own chest.
Images struck him in silence.
A sky torn in half.
A river of ash that burned without fire.
A gate like this one, but broken, its pieces scattered into countless realms.
And a voice, soft enough to almost be mistaken for thought.
You carry a fragment. Will you bear another?
Jin did not answer aloud. He simply lowered his hand, letting his fingers rest against the mask's surface. The abyss within him stirred, not hungrily, but with a slow acknowledgment.
The mask pulsed once, then broke apart into threads of light, each one sinking into his skin.
Myra and Soren did not move. They had felt nothing of what he had seen, but the air around them shifted... heavier, sharper, as though the hall itself had taken note.
When the light faded, Jin exhaled. The mark along his forearm, the one bound to his abyssal contract, had deepened... a new curve in the spiral, small but unmistakable.
Another fragment.
But unlike the others, this one did not settle into silence. It hummed faintly beneath his skin, its rhythm matching the distant chime.
"The gate gave it freely," Jin murmured.
Soren's brow furrowed. "Gates do not give freely."
Jin's gaze returned to the spiral on the floor. "Then perhaps it only gave what it wished me to carry."
They left the dais, continuing deeper into the hall. The further they walked, the more the carvings along the pillars shifted... the silent battles gave way to scenes of offering. Figures knelt before gates, leaving behind masks, blades, or even pieces of their own shadow.
Not all the offerings were accepted.
Some lay shattered at the figures' feet, the gates before them still closed.
As they reached the far end of the hall, the pillars widened, merging into a single massive arch. Beyond it lay an open space... a courtyard, though it was roofed in silver stone.
At its center was another gate, smaller, its frame incomplete. Shards of obsidian and silver lay scattered in a ring around it, each one etched with a fragment of script.
Myra crouched, running her fingers over one shard. "These… they match the spear you found."
Jin picked up another piece. The script pulsed faintly at his touch, as though remembering the rest of its shape.
"They are all connected," he said quietly.
Soren glanced around the courtyard. "Then this place is not a destination. It is a path between them."
Jin let the shard fall back into place. "And this path is broken."
The chime rang again, louder now, and the incomplete gate flared faintly. For a heartbeat, Jin saw another realm beyond it... a place of rivers made of light, their waters twisting upward into an endless storm. Then the vision faded, leaving only stone.
Myra straightened. "We cannot go through."
"Not yet," Jin agreed.
They searched the courtyard for some other way forward. There were doors set into the walls, but each was sealed with the same spiral pattern, unbroken.
Only one path remained... a narrow stair that descended into shadow.
The chime followed them down.
The air grew cooler, the stone beneath their feet damp. The walls here were plain, without carving, but every so often a mark was scratched into the surface... short, uneven lines, as though made in haste.
At the base of the stair, they found a small chamber. In its center sat a low stone table. Upon it rested three objects: a bowl of still water, a length of silver thread, and a shard of glass no larger than a coin.
Jin approached, feeling the air tighten around him. The abyss within him stirred again, sharper this time.
"This is a choice," he said.
Soren's gaze moved between the items. "What do they offer?"
Jin pointed to the water. "Memory. The thread... binding. The glass…" His hand hovered above it. "A mirror to what waits beyond the gates."
Myra's voice was quiet. "You cannot take them all."
"No," Jin agreed. "But I can take what will carry us forward."
He reached for the shard of glass. The moment his fingers closed around it, the chime struck once more... not from the hall, but from within the shard itself.
This time, the vision was longer. He saw the broken gates, scattered through realms. He saw the spiral mark, complete. And he saw himself standing before a gate of pure light, its frame shaped like an open hand.
When the vision ended, the shard's glow dimmed, but did not fade.
He slipped it into his sleeve. "We have what we need."
The stair behind them was already sealing. The hall above would not open to them again.
Only the path ahead remained... a corridor of stone leading deeper into the unseen.
And somewhere beyond, the chime waited.