The Traxian Auditorium had never been so still. Its once-proud marble pillars leaned like watchmen, casting long, jagged shadows under the lantern-flame torches. The silence was not absence but presence, an expectation that crept into lungs and squeezed. Manu's void tattoos glimmered like coals pressed against his skin, tracing fractal patterns that refused to hold still.
The circle was drawn. Carlin, Kari, and Manu stood shoulder to shoulder, forming the triad that anchored the gathering. Jason, Jairak, Eve maid, Eugene, Androsha, and Banjo stepped forward hesitantly, each feeling the weight of invisible hands press them closer to the ritual.
When Manu sank his palm into the floor and pulled, the ground did not break — it yielded. Stone softened like skin, folding away to reveal a gaping wound in the auditorium itself. From the wound came the well, black as tar but alive with shifting hues beneath its surface, like oil reflecting moons that weren't there.
The first sound from the well was gentle, almost soothing — a faint humming that mimicked the lullabies mothers hummed when their voices were tired. Sweet. Comforting. But the sweetness was wrong; it carried the same sourness as a lie told too kindly. It was the sound of coping, of masking despair with polite smiles.
The surge of energy that followed cracked through the chamber like a whip. The candidates stumbled, some falling to one knee. Jason's flames flickered nervously along his arms, Androsha clutched her temples, Eugene zipped three paces back involuntarily, and Eve maid muttered curses under her breath as her balance faltered. Jairak alone didn't fall — but the pain aura rippling around him flared without his consent, feeding off the well's vibration.
Carlin was the first to recover. His sigh filled the silence, and with it came words sharp enough to carve bone.
"True connection," he began, voice heavy with a quiet authority, "is when there are no gaps between you and your source. No shadows. No masks. You think you know friendship, loyalty, trust—but those things are cracks sealed with wax. A heat strong enough will melt them."
The group hung on his words, even as unease rippled across their faces. The well pulsed brighter with every syllable, as though Carlin's voice was feeding it.
Carlin tilted his head, his lips curling. "But when the Abyss stares back…" He chuckled softly, the sound curdling at the edges. "You already know there is no turning back."
Kari's smile stretched, equal parts charming and predatory. He nodded slowly, reinforcing Carlin's declaration. "Exactly. This is the path forward. Doubts, contradictions, excuses — all must be resolved before the well accepts you."
Banjo let out a half-laugh, though his hands twitched against his deck of bending cards. "H-hey, touche. You got me there. No need to lay it on so thick." His chuckle cracked like old glass, halfway between dread and amusement.
Androsha's eyes shimmered faintly, a misty fog trailing at the edges of her form. Her voice wavered as she whispered, "I feel called out—like a wind just ripped through my forest, scattering every fog I used to hide behind."
Eve maid rolled her eyes with exaggerated annoyance, though the tremor in her voice betrayed her nerves. "You didn't even tone it down a bit, huh?"
Jason, calmer than the rest but not untouched, stared at the well's surface, the reflection of his fiery aura trembling. "I feel it… deep. Like the throne I built inside me is shaking, but not collapsing. It's waiting."
Jairak said nothing at first. His aura pulsed stronger, waves of unseen pain pressing against the group. When he finally spoke, his words were jagged. "Discomfort was my teacher. Clarity my whip. And yet…" He let out a ragged laugh. "It feels like you've already handed me understanding before I even processed it myself. That's cheating."
Eugene, pacing nervously, nodded. "Getting right with my source before I step onto the tracks… check." His words were firm, but his body betrayed him; his sprinting energy fizzled in weak bursts, like nerves tripping over themselves.
The well pulsed again. Dark ripples rolled upward like tendrils of smoke. The longer they stared, the deeper it pulled at them — not physically, not with force, but with a compulsion too familiar to resist. It whispered in their own thoughts, amplifying them: intrusive worries, regrets long buried, old secrets suddenly loud again.
It wasn't pulling them down. It was letting them walk willingly.
The smell hit next. Old blood, metallic, sharp enough to sting. But the smell didn't stay in their noses — it shifted into colors, into voices, into textures. They could hear the scent, see the stench, taste the sound. Reality warped like their senses had been shuffled.
Eve maid shuddered and forced a grin. "Heh. Multi-sensory terror. Cute trick." But sweat gleamed across her brow.
Carlin cleared his throat. "You all saw what I did with the girl," he said smoothly, eyes narrowing in memory. "One touch to her chest. She was already bending before contact, because I whispered to her misconceptions. Her inner realm cracked open with just the idea. By the time I touched her, she wasn't just converted — she was transformed."
His eyes scanned them, predatory yet sympathetic. "So will you."
The silence after his words was suffocating. They all glanced at the well. Its surface bulged slightly, like something underneath was breathing. The hum grew louder, no longer motherly but throaty, as if it were speaking through the echoes of their coping mechanisms.
Jason licked his lips nervously, his flames dimming. "I… I can feel it pulling. It's not force. It's… consent. That's the worst part."
Androsha clutched her chest. "It's like the fog inside me wants to step out."
Banjo's hand trembled as he drew a card. His laugh was a wheeze. "Feels like breaking rules again… better be worth it."
Manu finally spoke, his grin sharp, his tattoos glowing like burning runes. "Yes," he whispered, almost lovingly. "It is scary. But that's the point."
The candidates froze. His words weren't just heard — they were felt, finishing the very thought they hadn't yet voiced. It was as if Manu had reached into their minds, plucked the trembling whispers before they could form, and dropped them into reality.
They shuddered collectively, staring at him.
The well pulsed harder, and this time the ripple looked like a hand reaching. Not grabbing. Not forcing. Simply offering.
And for the first time, they realized: initiation wasn't about being dragged. It was about agreeing to drown.
The circle around the well pulsed as though it were alive, an open wound in the earth. None of them wanted to stare into it, yet their very act of averting their eyes gave it more power. The darkness beckoned — not with force, but with suggestion, like a whisper slipped into the marrow.
Their intrusive thoughts swelled, colliding until they became an echo-chamber, a dreadful symphony rattling bone and thought alike. The sound was not merely heard — it clung, resonating backwards, stretched and broken like voices dragged through water.
Then came the names.
"Banjo…" The word scraped along the walls of his skull. The voice curled like smoke, soft and mocking. "Go on, little rule-bender… isn't this what you always wanted? To be the exception, the rogue who dances outside the lines? Or maybe—maybe what they whispered about you was true all along." The words twisted on themselves, looping endlessly until Banjo's breath came shallow, his grin trembling.
"Jason…" The echo sharpened, hot as fire. "Burn, burn, burn. Don't just serve justice — consume with it. Push further. Relevance, that's what you crave, isn't it? To be indispensable… to never fade into abstraction." The cadence was frantic, insistent, a whip across his spirit. Jason's fists clenched, and he couldn't tell if it was from conviction or terror.
"Androsha…" Her name fell like mist, yet pressed against her chest with unbearable weight. "Fog is clarity, can't you see? Lead them through it, show them your strength… the forest bends to your will. Your people are waiting. Step closer. It's safe." The calmness was worse than shouting. Her throat dried as if roots had grown inside it.
"Eve…" The voice slithered, almost kind. "Eve maid, ambitions unspoken are still ambitions alive. He never saw you. But I do. Step forward, prove yourself worthy, and I will acknowledge what he never could." It caressed her longing like a lover, but the caress was too cold, too knowing.
"Jairak…" His name throbbed with intimacy, like a whisper against his ear. "She loves you, yes… but will you remain the one sheltered, the one hidden in her shadow? Or will you rise and show her that clarity itself belongs to you? Jack is nothing. You are everything. Prove it." His knees almost buckled under the tenderness, cruel in its challenge.
"Eugene…" The crescendo spiked, feverish. "Run. Not tomorrow. Not later. Run now, Eugene! Don't just walk into destiny — seize it, bleed it, let the world choke on the sight of your ascent. The tracks are yours to rip apart. Tear them up! Rewrite everything." His pulse raced until he felt dizzy, drunk on adrenaline not his own.
The voices were intoxicating, each syllable backwards and distorted, each promise sharpened with malice. They seeped into the cracks of their souls, lodging where doubts used to be. What had once been whispers now thrummed like a second heartbeat.
The well breathed. The shadows quivered, and with them, their conviction.
Manu's laugh broke the silence like glass. Sharp, giddy, unrestrained. "Oh, this is wonderful!" he howled, tattoos flickering with a fevered glow. "Do you see it? They're unraveling, and still leaning forward. Hahaha! Traxis himself would applaud this chaos!"
Kari's lips curved into a smirk, her voice low and measured, as though cataloging the madness. "Look at them… this isn't breaking. It's remaking. With this kind of resonance, they'll spread the contagion better than we ever could. They could convert cities." Her eyes glinted with a dangerous admiration.
Carlin, however, stayed silent at first, his gaze fixed on the twisted fear painted across the candidates' faces. His voice finally spilled, heavy with conviction and something darker. "Of course they're terrified… they should be. Fear is the truest forge. Steel bends in heat, gold refines in fire. And they—" his smile widened slowly, "—they are already in the flames."
The well pulsed again. The smell of old blood seeped into the air, though it was not blood alone. They smelled colors. They heard scents. Voices painted themselves across their vision, shapes that were never meant to be seen.
And still, the pull grew stronger.
The well hummed, alive in its silence. Its surface rippled faintly, as though waiting, not forcing. Patience dripped from it like oil, every vibration an invitation that refused to be ignored.
Manu raised his tattooed arm, symbols pulsing faintly. "Step forward," he ordered, voice calm, almost casual. "But not alone. Two at a time. Balance matters in descent."
Carlin's eyes gleamed, his tone smooth, persuasive. "The well is waiting. It doesn't ask much—just a choice. A step."
Kari folded her arms, studying the candidates like specimens under glass. "Pairs," she repeated. "Let it weigh you together."
The Enforcers formed a half-circle around the rim, shadows spilling long and sharp. Their posture was loose, but there was a weight in their stillness. They weren't guards. They were witnesses.
The candidates, however, froze. Muscles stiff. Breath shallow. The command seemed simple, yet the simplicity made it unbearable. Who would move first? Who would surrender their body, their mind, their truth to the thing breathing beneath them?
Their glances darted, a silent standoff stretched across seconds that felt like years.
Finally—
Jairak inhaled. His face was calm, but his eyes flickered with fire. He stepped forward, boots scraping stone. His voice cracked the tension, low but firm.
"I already chose this path," he said. "There's no turning back."
A beat of silence followed.
Jason shifted, ready to join him, but Eve Maid surged forward before he could, her steps sharp, decisive. Yet the moment she caught sight of Jason moving too, she faltered. Her heel slid back. A breathless laugh escaped her throat, strained, almost apologetic.
Jason stopped as well, mirroring her hesitation. The sight of him retreating when she did made the air strange, looping, like time caught them in a small cruel joke. He tried again. So did she. Both stepped forward—then back again. Forward. Back.
For a full minute, they repeated the dance, parallel in their awkward resistance, as if both were desperate to go first yet equally desperate not to.
Banjo slapped his palm against his forehead. "Oh, for crying out loud…Y'all are bunch of softies you know that...hehe..." he says that...yet he knows what they're feeling.
Androsha sighed, mist curling faintly from her lips as if even her breath mocked the delay.
Eugene muttered, "This is… embarrassing, I....I got nothing to say...I'm just too stunned... but you guys always manage to always nudge me with second hand embarrassment, jeez, one of you should go already... before... before I start roasting myself for roasting you when we're done "
The Enforcers chuckled. Not cruelly, not even mockingly. Their laughter carried an edge of recognition, of reassurance. Fear was natural. The loop was proof the candidates were human. Proof they understood what was at stake.
But only one could make the first true step.
This time, Eve drew in a long breath, steadying her shaking hands. Her lips pressed thin. She moved forward. And when Jason hesitated again, retreating, her own retreat ended.
She didn't step back.
The choice clung to her like tar. She stood at the edge beside Jairak, her face pale but resolute.
Together, with no more hesitation, Jairak and Eve stepped into the well.
At once the world collapsed.
Darkness swallowed them whole, thick and endless.
Then—color. Not bright, not radiant, but sickly beautiful. Streaks of greenish-yellow neon swirled with silver hues, twisting like veins through black flesh. They painted the edges of the descent, too fluid to be solid, too sharp to be mist.
Gravity dragged them downward. Not harsh. Not cruel. A pull that felt more like agreement than force. A pact signed in silence.
Eve's lips parted in exhilaration, her eyes wide, pupils trembling. Every nerve in her body sang with the intoxication of surrender.
But Jairak—Jairak's reaction was stranger. His heartbeat slowed. His thoughts quieted. He felt… comfortable. And that, more than anything, terrified him. For clarity had always lived in discomfort, in the sharp bite of contradiction. To find peace here was wrong. So wrong.
They drifted, weightless.
The descent stopped.
They were suspended in a vast hollow chamber, an infinite plane of fractured glass. Shards drifted like dying stars, glowing with silver auras. The sound was unbearable—every clash of glass rang like bones snapping, like secrets being whispered too close to the ear. The air smelled like something that didn't belong: burnt flowers, wet copper, the silence after a scream.
Eve clutched Jairak's arm. He clutched back. Not for strength. For illusion. For the delusion of peace in a place where peace could never exist.
They floated, waiting. Nothing happened. Seconds passed. Then more. Too long.
It was deliberate.
The delay pressed in on them, a predator savoring patience, knowing its prey would tremble harder if it waited.
Then—
The space cracked.
A violent shudder tore them apart. Their hands wrenched from each other, their bodies flung to opposite sides of the suspended abyss.
Jairak's half pulsed, writhing, as if stitched from veins and nerves. The floor beat like a living heart, every pulse a throb of unbearable truth. He reached for it instinctively—and recoiled, flinching at the intimacy of its touch.
Eve's half glowed soft, suffocating. Cotton spread in endless plains. White sheets, pillows, silken bands, a chamber of comfort so perfect it was monstrous. A lullaby hummed without a singer, a promise of rest that was too deep, too final.
Before they could understand, before they could brace, the abyss sealed them in.
And just like that—they were no longer in the well.
They were inside their inner realms.
Then, Jair this time, not Jairak...not the name he picked for himself.... heard a voice..
Pain... what is pain..?
HAHAHAHA