Shades of Ascendence

Liam stepped forward

The moment his boot landed, the world shuddered. The air vibrated, the mist recoiling as if exhaling, a cold draft brushing his face, retreating into the fractured darkness beyond. The obsidian steps beneath him pulsed, their symbols flaring with light—brief, ephemeral, like dying embers in the void, casting jagged shadows across the path. A low hum rose from below, reverberating through his bones, as if the world itself acknowledged his presence, the vibration sinking deep, making his teeth chatter, a faint static crackle snapping in the air.

He exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the unnatural chill, a faint puff hanging, his chest tight with the weight of unseen eyes pressing against him, lingering just beyond perception, watching, waiting. His grip on Shadowfang tightened, the weapon's hum an extension of his own unease, his knuckles whitening, his hands trembling as he steadied himself, the blade's edge glinting faintly in the mist, sweat beading on his brow and dripping down his temple, his vest damp with the cold.

[System Update: Dimensional Stability at 81%]

[Trial Parameters Adjusted – Path to Ascendance Initiated]

*A sharp buzz flickered in his skull, the hum fading as the alert vanished, a faint heat pulsing briefly.*

Liam took another step, the ground rippling under his boot, the mist stirring with the motion, then vanishing entirely for one heartbeat—revealing a blinding flash of heat that seared his skin—before rushing back, thicker and colder, the shift jarring him, his pulse spiking.

This time, something answered.

A whisper curled at the edges of the void. Faint. Insidious. It slithered through the air like a forgotten echo. Cold fingers ran down his neck. The voice was layered, distorted, as if spoken by multiple mouths at once—some human, some not, the words sinking into his mind, a burning sensation prickling his veins, a vibration in his skull that made his head throb. The mist thickened at the edges of his vision, shifting unnaturally, forming hazy figures that flickered in and out, looming like silhouettes against the dark, featureless yet familiar, their presence chilling his spine, a static crackle popping in the air.

The mist stirred, then shifted. One of them stepped forward.

Elise.

Or something wearing her shape.

Her eyes were wrong—empty pools of silver light, devoid of recognition, a hollow stare that made his breath catch with a sharp gasp. Her lips parted, but her voice was warped, echoing, a grating sound that scraped his ears. **"Turn back, Liam."** The mist coiled around her like a living thing, distorting her form, stretching and pulling at the edges, her silhouette fraying, as if stitched from memories that didn't quite fit, her glow a pale imitation, flickering with static.

Liam's pulse hammered in his ears, his fingers flexing around Shadowfang's hilt, his hands shaking, a cold sweat breaking out on his neck. The mist churned, pressing closer, tightening like unseen fingers around his throat, the air growing thick, suffocating. "You're not real," he forced out, his voice rough, throat dry, the words trembling as he glared at the mimic.

The thing wearing Elise's face smiled, slow and eerie, its lips curling unnaturally, a chill running through him. **"Neither are you."** The words struck like a blade to the chest, a cold, creeping dread slithering through his gut, a primal warning surging through his veins, his heart skipping a beat. The mist rippled, shifting again, the figures multiplying, reshaping into more faces—Mara, Varik, people he'd fought beside, people he'd killed—their mouths moving, silent accusations, hollow echoes of the past, their eyes glowing faintly, staring through him, a shadow with his silhouette twitching in the dark beyond the vortex, mimicking his step a fraction too late.

Liam took a step back, breath uneven, shadows clinging to his skin, the mist threading through his thoughts, pulling at his mind, unraveling certainty. **[System Warning: Cognitive Interference Detected] [Sync: 22%] [Memory Fragment Lost: Name Unavailable] [Initiating Mental Stabilization Protocol]** A jolt of static surged through his skull, sharp and electric, his name dancing on his tongue, slipping away… Who was he? The system forced it back—Liam—his stats stabilizing at 23%, a faint ache lingering in his head. He gasped, staggering, the figures glitching before dissolving into the mist, the weight lessening, but the unease remained, curled at the edges of his mind like a shadow that refused to leave. Could he trust this path?

He wiped sweat from his brow, smearing grime across his face, his resolve hardening, a dark chuckle escaping. "Not today," he muttered, his voice low, the tension easing slightly, his hands steadying on Shadowfang. He would not be unmade. Not here. Not like this.

His next step was deliberate, defiant, the mist recoiling as his boot hit the stone, the hum rising again, a pulse syncing with his heartbeat.

A distant rumble echoed from above, the vortex of light and darkness shifting, expanding, something unseen stirring within, a shadow with his silhouette twitching again, reacting with a delayed sync to his movement, the lag unsettling him, the air crackling with energy. The mist pulled back for a fraction of a second, revealing countless steps ahead, stretching into the abyss. A trial with no end.

The weight of the world pressed down, thick with expectation, waiting to see if he'd falter. He didn't.

Liam walked forward, the void shifting around him, the whispers rising once more. They didn't plead. They didn't warn. They laughed—a low, mocking sound that echoed off the spires, a warped version of his own laugh sending a shiver down his spine. The mist thickened, the path stretching on, endless, unknown, a pulse from the vortex lingering in his chest, pulling him deeper.

His legs burned, the ache settling deep in his bones. Each step was a battle, the ground unstable, the mist thickening when he slowed—waiting, pressing, like it wanted him to collapse. The obsidian steps grew slick with condensation, the cold seeping into his boots, his muscles trembling with the effort, his breath ragged, the symbols pulsing brighter, the hum from his chest growing louder, a rhythm inside him. He glanced to his sides, the mist parting slightly, revealing glimpses of the floating spires, their angles shifting, the symbols glowing with an intensity that hurt his eyes, the silence broken only by the faint drip of water from the unseen heights, pooling at his feet.

The figures flickered back, their forms less distinct now, a blur of faces—Mara's stern gaze, Varik's scarred smirk—dissolving as quickly as they appeared, the mist swallowing them, the air growing heavier, the hum intensifying. He paused, heart thudding, his breath uneven, the cold biting his joints, his hands slick on Shadowfang's hilt. The entity's violet eyes glowed brighter in the distance, its form still, a silent challenge, the mist parting to reveal more steps, the path endless, the hum from his chest a constant pulse, pulling him deeper into the trial.

The whispers returned, their laughter rising, a warped version of his own voice echoing off the spires, the sound twisting into something sinister, the mist pressing closer, the cold sinking into his skin, the weight of the unseen growing. He shook his head, clearing the doubt, his jaw set, his hands gripping Shadowfang tighter, the blade's hum a faint lifeline. The path stretched ahead, the vortex growing larger, the light blinding, the air crackling, the symbols pulsing like a heartbeat, his reflection flickering on the stones, distorted, a hint of identity unraveling.

No turning back. Only the path ahead—and the trial waiting.