The gates groaned open without a single touch, as if they had been waiting for Rey and Fianna for centuries. A chill wind rushed out from the dark interior of the castle, brushing past Rey's face like invisible fingers. The moment he stepped inside, a sense of heaviness pressed down on him—as if the air itself carried memory and judgment.
Fianna followed silently, her hand resting lightly on the hilt of her ceremonial blade. "This castle is alive," she whispered. "It watches, listens… remembers."
The stone corridor ahead was dimly lit by glowing blue fungi that pulsed faintly like breathing veins across the walls. The floor was layered with dust, but not a single footprint. Rey's instincts screamed caution, but his curiosity burned stronger.
Suddenly, a voice echoed through the silence—deep, ancient, and cold.
"Who enters the place of soul-binding?"
Fianna stopped. She bowed her head respectfully. "Fianna Starseeker, daughter of the Stoneborn Clan."
Rey stiffened but followed her cue. "Rey… of the human world. I seek acceptance."
There was a long silence.
"One who carries the scent of another world… and yet dares ask for the blessing of blood."
The walls rumbled slightly. The blue lights flared, then dimmed. A strange mist began to rise from the cracks in the floor.
Three massive thrones slowly revealed themselves at the end of the grand hall—each carved from different ancient stone. Upon them sat shadowy figures, unmoving but undeniably present. Their eyes—if they had any—glowed with a dim, violet hue.
Fianna whispered, "Those are the Echoing Ancients. Don't lie. Don't break your gaze. They will know."
Rey stepped forward. His voice trembled but held firm. "I have come not to take, but to offer. I wish to marry Fianna. I seek your blessing."
"What can a wanderer of broken blood offer us?" the middle figure asked.
Rey hesitated. "My strength. My truth. My future. And my heart… wholly and honestly."
The room grew still again. Then the right throne spoke.
"Show us your truth. Bleed your memories into the air."
Before Rey could respond, a sharp pain stabbed his chest. He gasped as the air twisted around him—and suddenly, visions from his past flooded the chamber. The destruction of his hometown. The screaming of his parents. The moment he was dragged through the Abyss Gate. His struggles, his loneliness, the pain of surviving in a world that wanted him dead.
Fianna gasped softly behind him. She had never seen these memories. Rey stood there, vulnerable, stripped of all pride.
The left throne finally moved.
"He bears great sorrow… yet no malice. A soul of fire and restraint. The blood of man, but the heart of something more."
Then the middle throne spoke again.
"You may proceed… to the final rite. Beyond this hall lies the Trial of Will. Survive it, and our blessing shall be yours."
Fianna looked at Rey with a mix of pride and fear. "You've come so far… but this trial isn't physical. It's a challenge of the soul."
Rey took a deep breath and nodded. "Then I'll pass it. For us."
Together, they stepped through the dark passage beyond the thrones. Behind them, the voices of the ancients faded into silence once more.
What waited ahead would not be a battle of blades, but of identity, fear, and truth.
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