The morning came cloaked in fog.
It wasn't the gentle mist Fred was used to back home — this mist was thick, heavy, swirling with strange colors: pale blue, soft gold, and hints of crimson. It moved across the ground like a living thing, curling around the ruins and trees as if searching for something.
Fred woke to the damp chill seeping through his cloak. The fire had long since died out, leaving behind only a bed of cold ashes. Around him, the others stirred one by one, their faces pale and wary.
The scent of earth, old stone, and unseen flowers filled the air.
For a long moment, none of them spoke.
Then Zara broke the silence, her voice trembling slightly. "We're not alone."
Fred's gaze sharpened. He stood slowly, hand on his sword.
"Spread out," he ordered quietly. "Stay close, but look around."
The ruins had shifted during the night.
Vines that hadn't been there before now dangled from the broken arches. Strange symbols, faint and glowing, marked the stones in spiraling patterns. The mist whispered through the cracks, carrying soft echoes — like footsteps.
Elise moved silently along one side, inspecting the walls. Her silver armor, dulled from the battles, still gleamed faintly, and her ice-blue eyes narrowed in concentration.
Damon prowled along the other side, his rugged face set in a grim frown, twin daggers ready in his hands.
Mira moved lightly, her dark hair braided tight against her head, her small frame blending almost seamlessly with the shadows.
And Zara stayed close to Fred, her hands clenched tightly around the Heart, which now pulsed with a soft, steady light.
Fred turned toward the source of the noise.
Beyond the ruins, just past the curtain of mist, dark shapes moved — tall, cloaked, their faces hidden by ornate masks of bone and gold.
Fred counted five… no, six figures.
"They've found us," Elise hissed, drawing her blade with a soft metallic rasp.
Fred stepped forward, raising a hand.
"Wait."
The figures stopped at the edge of the mist, watching.
One of them — a woman, judging by the slender build and flowing robes — stepped forward and lifted her hand in a gesture of peace.
She pulled back her hood slowly.
Her skin was porcelain pale, her hair silver like molten moonlight, cascading down her shoulders. Her eyes were unlike any Fred had ever seen — deep violet, with stars flickering in their depths.
"I am Seraphine," she said, her voice melodic yet commanding. "Daughter of the First Flame. Keeper of the Forgotten Paths."
Fred tightened his grip on his sword. "What do you want?"
The woman smiled, but there was no warmth in it.
"We sensed the Heart awakening," she said. "It does not belong in this world. Nor do you."
Fred said nothing, feeling the others tense behind him.
"You crossed into the Forbidden Realms," Seraphine continued, her voice soft but carrying across the ruins. "You disturbed the old oaths. The ancient slumber."
Another figure stepped forward — a man, massive and broad-shouldered, his mask carved into the shape of a snarling beast.
"You must be judged," the man rumbled.
Fred's heart pounded.
Judged.
Zara took a step forward, shaking. "We didn't mean harm. We were escaping... saving lives!"
Seraphine tilted her head slightly, studying Zara with those cosmic eyes. For a moment, something flickered across her expression — curiosity? Sadness? — before it vanished.
"The Heart cares not for intent," she said. "Only for consequence."
Fred's mind raced.
They couldn't fight them — not in this unfamiliar world, not without knowing what powers these masked beings possessed.
But they couldn't surrender either.
Fred took a slow breath, the mist cold in his lungs.
"If we're to be judged," he said steadily, "then let it be by fate, not fear."
Seraphine's lips curved in a faint smile, the first true one Fred had seen.
"So be it," she whispered.
She lifted her hand — and the world shifted.
The ground beneath their feet turned transparent, showing swirling galaxies and ancient roads far below. A massive, floating platform materialized, made of black stone and etched with thousands of glowing runes.
The ruins, the forest, even the mist, all faded away.
They stood atop the platform, surrounded by endless space.
Above them, the twin moons bled into rivers of gold across the stars.
The other cloaked figures circled them silently, forming a ring.
Seraphine stepped back, her eyes shining.
"Welcome," she said, voice like a bell tolling at the end of the world,
"to the Trial of Echoes."
Fred drew his sword, and the others followed, faces grim.
They were ready.
Whatever this Trial was, they would survive it.
They had to.
Because behind the judgment, behind the mist, Fred felt it — a darker force awakening.
Watching.
Waiting.
And it wasn't here to judge.
It was here to consume.
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