The land changed as they marched.
Mountains folded in on themselves. Rivers reversed. The wind twisted into strange patterns, as if even nature didn't trust the direction they were headed.
Coker walked ahead of them all.
He didn't speak. He didn't rest. The black quill he took from the First Author was now strapped to his side like a weapon. But it didn't look like a weapon.
It looked like a secret.
Behind him, Lilin and Mina followed in silence. The soldiers came after them—hundreds now—ghosts of wars that never made it into history books. Their armor creaked. Their swords glowed faintly with runes older than time.
All of them walked with purpose.
Because they were heading to a place no one ever returned from.
The city with ten gates.
---
They reached it at dawn.
But the sky was still dark.
As if the city refused to let the sun in.
Massive walls stretched across the horizon, curving in ways that made no sense to the eye. Each gate stood at a different point along the wall—tall, ancient, and sealed with red wax that pulsed like a heartbeat.
The first gate was made of bone.
The second, of ice.
The third, iron.
The fourth, fire.
The fifth, glass.
The sixth, roots.
The seventh, salt.
The eighth, sound.
The ninth, time.
And the tenth?
The tenth gate wasn't visible at all.
It could only be felt.
A cold pressure behind the eyes. A thought that wasn't yours. A whisper beneath the skin.
Coker stood before the first gate and placed a hand on it.
The bone groaned.
Then it opened.
---
Inside, the air changed.
The city wasn't dead.
It was dreaming.
Buildings moved when you blinked. Roads curved back on themselves. Statues turned to watch as you passed. And somewhere, always just behind you, was the sound of footsteps that didn't belong to anyone.
"This place isn't right," Mina whispered.
"It never was," Lilin said.
They walked through the first district—rows of crumbling towers covered in red symbols. Coker recognized them. He had written some of them, long ago, when his mind was not his own.
"What is this place?" Mina asked.
Coker answered without looking at her.
"A prison for ideas too dangerous to live."
---
At the center of the first district stood a tower with a hundred windows. Each window showed a different future—one where Coker was king, one where he was a monster, one where he was never born.
He stared at them all.
Then turned away.
"This city tests you," Lilin said. "Every gate forces you to choose."
"Choose what?" Mina asked.
"Who you are."
---
The second gate—ice—opened with a breath.
It led them into silence.
Snow fell, but it was warm. The streets were empty, but they felt crowded. Coker walked slower here. His hand brushed against things no one else could see.
Ghosts.
Memories.
A boy alone in the cold. A woman who never forgave him. A blade made of frost that still had his fingerprints.
He remembered this place.
"Do you see him?" Lilin asked.
Coker nodded.
"My brother."
Mina looked confused.
"You had a brother?"
"I had many things," Coker said. "Most of them died here."
---
The third gate—iron—fought back.
It screamed when he touched it. Tried to close again. But he forced it open.
Beyond it, the city turned into a battlefield.
Ruined armor littered the streets. Every wall was scarred with burns and blade marks. Crows perched on statues made of melted steel.
This was where the war ended.
The war no one remembered.
Until now.
The soldiers with Coker walked differently here. Slower. Heavier.
They had died here before.
And now they remembered.
---
At the fourth gate—fire—Mina collapsed.
The heat wasn't real. But the pain was.
Visions struck her—of the bakery burning, of her mother screaming, of Coker walking through the flames untouched.
She cried out. "Make it stop!"
Coker knelt beside her.
"It won't stop," he said. "You just have to walk through it."
She looked at him, eyes wet.
"Did you?"
He nodded.
And took her hand.
Together, they stepped into the fire.
And came out the other side.
---
The fifth gate—glass—showed truth.
Too much of it.
Mirrors lined the streets. Each one showed something different—Coker holding a blade to Lilin's throat, Mina walking away forever, the soldiers turning on him, a world where he never woke up.
Coker didn't flinch.
He shattered every mirror he passed.
"I write the truth now," he said. "Not you."
And the glass stopped cracking.
---
The sixth gate—roots—grew into them.
Vines wrapped around their legs as they walked. Whispers came from the ground. Names of old friends. Old enemies. People Coker had buried. People he had saved.
One root pulsed with warmth.
He touched it.
And saw his mother.
Not the real one.
But the memory of her smile.
He smiled back.
And the roots let them pass.
---
At the seventh gate—salt—Mina almost drowned.
The air turned thick. Her lungs burned. She sank to her knees.
Salt is for grief.
This gate showed her every goodbye she never got to say.
To her father.
To her past.
To the version of herself that still believed in safety.
Coker helped her up again.
"You'll survive," he said.
"How do you know?"
"Because you followed me this far."
---
The eighth gate—sound—was worse than silence.
Voices screamed here.
Voices that knew your name.
They mocked. They pleaded. They sang lullabies twisted into threats.
Coker stood in the middle of the noise and roared.
"ENOUGH!"
The voices stopped.
Only one remained.
It said: *"You are almost home."*
---
The ninth gate—time—was slow.
Every step aged them.
Coker's hands grew older. His scars deeper. His breath shorter.
But he kept walking.
And with each step, he remembered something he had forgotten.
Laughter.
Friends.
Moments of peace.
He carried those memories like a shield.
And when they reached the end, the age fell off his shoulders like dust.
---
Then came the tenth gate.
There was nothing to see.
No door.
No wall.
Just the feeling.
Coker turned to Lilin and Mina.
"You can't come through this one."
Mina shook her head. "We've come this far—"
"I know. But this gate… it's not made for two."
Lilin touched his shoulder. "We'll wait."
He nodded.
Then closed his eyes.
And spoke the name the stars had forgotten.
His true name.
---
The world cracked open.
And the tenth gate appeared.
It was made of ink.
But it bled.
Coker stepped through.
And vanished.
---
Inside, there was no city.
No sky.
Just a chair.
And a book.
The book was empty.
Coker sat.
Took the quill.
And began to write.
The first words were simple.
Plain.
True.
*"I am not who they said I was."*
---
Outside, Lilin looked up.
The stars moved again.
Mina's heart slowed.
And in the distance, the world shifted.
Because a new chapter had begun.
And this time, it was being written in blood.