Chapter Seven: Whispers of the Forgotten

The air in the chamber still hummed with lingering energy. Rylan stood amid the ruins of the fallen spirits, his breath heavy but steady. The hooded figure watched him in silence, their gaze unreadable beneath the shadow of their cowl.

"You have done well," the figure finally spoke, their voice a low murmur. "You are learning."

Rylan exhaled, forcing himself to stay upright. His body was exhausted, his limbs aching from the trial, but a fire burned in his chest. The Sigil had responded to him in a way it never had before—answering his will, shaping itself to his understanding.

But there was still so much he didn't know.

"What were they?" he asked, looking at the place where the Fallen had vanished. "Why were they bound here?"

The figure turned, walking toward the cracked monolith at the chamber's center. "They were seekers, just as you are. They walked the path, but they lost their way. When they could not ascend, they became trapped between realms, unable to move forward, unwilling to let go."

Rylan frowned. "So they failed."

The figure tilted their head slightly. "Failure is not always the end. But some refuse to accept it."

Rylan stared at the monolith, the shifting Sigils on its surface still pulsing faintly. This place... it was more than just a ruin. It was a prison. A tomb for those who could not bear the weight of their own ambition.

And yet, he had freed them.

Something stirred inside him at the thought.

The Sigil had granted him power, but not through brute strength. It had given him sight, understanding. The chains that bound the Fallen were not physical—they were remnants of their own regrets, their own failures.

He had severed them, not by force, but by will.

The realization settled deep within him. Power was not simply about destruction. It was about knowing what to destroy.

"Come," the figure said, breaking his thoughts. "Your next trial awaits."

Rylan hesitated but followed.

---

They ascended the spiral staircase once more, emerging from the underground ruin. The cold night air was sharp against Rylan's skin, but he welcomed it. After the suffocating atmosphere of the chamber, the vastness of the open sky felt like a breath of fresh air.

The hooded figure led him deeper into the forest, their pace steady but unhurried. The trees grew denser, their twisted shapes looming over the path like silent sentinels. Shadows danced between the branches, moving in ways that made Rylan's skin prickle.

Something was watching them.

"Where are we going?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

The figure did not slow. "To a place where echoes still speak."

Rylan frowned but said nothing. He had learned by now that pressing for answers would get him nowhere.

Minutes passed, then an hour. The deeper they went, the stronger the feeling of being watched became. It was no longer a vague sense of unease—it was presence. Unseen eyes pressed against his mind, whispering at the edges of his thoughts.

Then, suddenly, the trees parted.

They stood before a vast clearing, but it was no ordinary glade. At its center lay a massive, broken gate—an arch of stone, its surface covered in intricate carvings. The runes upon it glowed faintly, the same shifting Sigils as those on the monolith below.

But what caught Rylan's breath was what lay beyond the gate.

Or rather, what didn't.

The space within the archway was wrong. It wasn't darkness, nor was it light. It was absence. A void that seemed to stretch forever, devouring all who dared to look too closely.

His stomach turned. He could feel it—a pull, a whispering force calling to him, tempting him to step closer.

He clenched his fists.

"What is this place?"

The figure finally turned to face him. "The Gate of the Forgotten."

Rylan swallowed. "What does it lead to?"

The figure's hood tilted slightly. "Not to a place, but to a state of being. Those who enter either return with knowledge... or do not return at all."

Rylan's pulse quickened. "You're telling me to go in."

The figure was silent for a long moment before they spoke again. "Your Sigil is still incomplete. There are truths you must uncover. The path to mastery does not end with understanding the chains—it continues with breaking through the Veil itself."

Rylan inhaled sharply.

The Veil. The unseen force that separated the mortal world from the higher realms. It was said that only the most powerful could pierce it, gaining glimpses of the divine.

Few ever returned sane.

"You fear it," the figure observed.

Rylan clenched his jaw. "I'd be a fool not to."

"Good," the figure murmured. "Fear is wisdom. But will you let it stop you?"

Rylan exhaled slowly. He had come this far. Turned back from death more times than he could count.

He couldn't stop now.

Steeling himself, he stepped forward.

As he crossed the threshold of the arch, the world around him vanished.

---

Silence.

A silence so deep it was almost deafening.

Rylan floated in an endless void. There was no ground beneath his feet, no sky above him—only vast, unending nothingness.

Panic surged through him, but he forced it down. He was still here. He had not vanished.

Not yet.

A whisper slithered through the void, just at the edge of hearing.

"You seek knowledge."

Rylan's breath caught. The voice was not his own. It was ancient, vast, like countless voices speaking in unison.

"I do," he said, his voice steady despite the fear clawing at his chest.

The whispers shifted, circling him like unseen entities.

"Knowledge has a price. Are you willing to pay it?"

Rylan swallowed hard. He had heard these kinds of warnings before.

But he also knew that power was never given freely.

"I will pay whatever it takes," he said firmly.

A pause. Then, the void trembled.

"Then look."

Suddenly, the darkness peeled away, and Rylan saw.

Visions flashed before his eyes—fragments of time, glimpses of things long forgotten. Cities that no longer existed, civilizations swallowed by the passage of ages. He saw figures clad in robes of shifting light, their eyes filled with cosmic knowledge. He saw titanic beings beyond mortal comprehension, their forms too vast to be contained by reality.

He saw the Sigil-Bearers of old.

And he saw their fall.

Destruction. Betrayal. A war that had torn the heavens apart. He saw men and women wielding powers that could reshape worlds—only to be consumed by them.

He saw the truth behind the power he sought.

His breath caught.

Then, just as suddenly as it had come, the vision ended.

Rylan gasped, falling to his knees. He was no longer in the void. He was back in the clearing, the Gate behind him.

The hooded figure watched him, their expression unreadable.

Rylan's hands trembled. His heart pounded.

The whispers still echoed in his mind.

He had gained knowledge.

But at what cost?

---

To be continued...