Above, two shadows moved silently. Elias and Elena tracked cries through twisting ruins. The captives' protests marked the way.
The procession stopped at a massive stone door. From their hiding spot, Elias saw ornate carvings—and ancient script etched deep into the stone.
"What does it say?" one of the priests asked, his voice echoing slightly in the corridor.
The priestess stepped forward, running her fingers over the carved letters. Her voice carried a note of unease as she read aloud:
"Only the blind shall find what they seek
The truth is buried deep within the soul and dispersing from the eyes.
In the clear reflection lies the path.
Face the ordeal of emotions and find your own truth."
"A riddle," muttered Brother Samuel, the eldest priest. "These ancient places love their cryptic warnings."
"'Only the blind shall find what they seek,'" repeated Andreas weakly. "Maybe... maybe it means we need to close our eyes?"
"Don't be ridiculous," scoffed Brother Matthias. "How can you find anything with your eyes closed? It must be metaphorical—about spiritual blindness versus enlightenment."
"But what about 'the truth dispersing from the eyes'?" Sagan interjected nervously. "That sounds like we shouldn't look at something."
"The clear reflection," Méline added, though she was clearly just trying to contribute. "Maybe there are mirrors inside? Reflections show truth, right?"
"This could be a trap," Andreas said quietly. "Maybe we should—"
"We've come too far to turn back now," the priestess interrupted firmly. "Our investigation of these ruins must continue. Whatever lies beyond this door holds answers we need." She pressed her hands against the door's surface, and with a grinding sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the ruins, it slowly swung open.
Beyond lay a hall beyond comprehension. Shadows swallowed its edges, but countless mirrors—smooth, curved, fragmented—lined every wall, multiplying reflections into a dizzying labyrinth. Above, a black glass ceiling mirrored torchlight in shifting, eerie patterns, tiny red points glimmering like distant stars.
Hundreds of statues filled the space, each three meters apart, all robed in black yet unique. Some raised arms to the sky, others knelt, cowered, or reached desperately. Faces, partly hidden, showed joy, sorrow, rage, fear, hope, despair. Most unnervingly, those not looking away seemed to stare directly at the entrance, their carved eyes startlingly lifelike.
"By Mortalis," breathed Brother Matthias. "What is this place?"
"Look at them all," whispered Sagan. "They're all the same person, but... different."
"The mirrors," Méline said, transfixed. "There are so many. Maybe the riddle meant we need to look in the mirrors to find the path?"
"No," the priestess said slowly, studying the chamber. "The reflections are too confusing. They're reflecting the statues too—look, you can see their gazes multiplied infinitely."
Andreas shuffled forward weakly, nearly stumbling. "Maybe we should close our eyes like the riddle says? 'Only the blind shall find what they seek'?"
"The ceiling," Brother Samuel observed, squinting upward. "It's reflecting something. Those red spots... what could they be?"
The group moved forward cautiously into the forest of statues, their captives shuffling along behind them. The mirrors caught their movements, multiplying their forms into an army of reflections that seemed to march alongside them through the stone guardians. With each step, the sense of being watched intensified, as if hundreds of carved eyes were tracking their progress.
Then, without warning, Brother Matthias began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then grew into wild, hysterical laughter that echoed off the mirrored walls.
"Ahaha... AHAHAHA! The mirrors! They're dancing! Dancing with the shadows! AHAHAHA!"
"Brother Matthias?" the priestess called out in concern.
But Matthias was no longer listening. His eyes had taken on a glazed, unfocused look, and he began speaking in rapid, incomprehensible syllables. "Keth nalar vosh! Vosh kalar neth! The whispers speak truth! TRUTH!"
"Something's wrong," Sagan whimpered, pressing closer to his sister.
As if triggered by his words, the madness spread like wildfire. Another priest began clawing at his own face. "Get them off! GET THEM OFF! The shadows have fingers! They're crawling under my skin!"
"No no no!" Méline screamed, batting at empty air around her throat. "Something's choking me! I can't breathe! There are hands—invisible hands—LET GO OF ME!"
Even Andreas fell to his knees. "The stones... they're bleeding... why are the stones bleeding? Mother, why didn't you tell me the stones would bleed?"
The priestess raised her staff, holy light beginning to gather around its tip. "By Mortalis's divine grace, I banish this corruption—"
Nothing happened. The light sputtered and died like a candle in a storm.
Her eyes widened in shock. "That's impossible. My holy power—it's completely blocked."
At that moment, she noticed that the magical bindings holding their captives were also dissolving. Méline and Sagan rubbed their wrists in bewilderment, free but too confused by their own growing madness to flee.
"Priestess!" gasped Brother Samuel, fighting to maintain his sanity. "If your divine powers don't work here, that means—"
"We're in another god's domain," she finished grimly. "But whose?"
Brother Samuel suddenly straightened with his eyes already closed. "The riddle!" he shouted. "The first line—'Only the blind shall find what they seek!' We need to close our eyes! Don't look at the statues! When you close your eyes, the madness goes away!"
(Think! Think!) The priestess squeezed her eyes shut as suggested, and miraculously, the pressing weight of madness began to lift. (The riddle... The truth dispersing from the eyes... what does that mean? Clear reflection... the mirrors? No, they're making it worse. The ceiling? Those red spots…)
For precious seconds, clarity returned to their minds as they stood with eyes tightly shut.
Then the spears came.
THUNK! THWIP! SHUNK!
Dozens of stone-tipped projectiles erupted from hidden mechanisms in the floor with mechanical precision. SQUELCH! THUD!
Metal tore into flesh. Spears struck from every angle. Brother Samuel glimpsed the shafts in his chest, gurgled, then fell into a spreading pool of blood.
THUMP
"Keep your eyes open!" the priestess screamed in horror. "It's a trap!"
But with their eyes open, the madness returned in full force. The priestess felt her thoughts scattering like leaves in a hurricane. (When you keep your eyes open, you lose your sanity but when you close them, spears struck from the ground. The riddle... there has to be... the truth dispersing from the eyes... Is it the statues gazes ? I can't... can't think…)
Just as she was about to succumb completely to the insanity, a strong arm wrapped around her shoulders, pulling her backward with confident precision.
"Easy there, Saintess," a calm, almost amused voice said near her ear. "Looks like you could use a guide through this little puzzle."
Elias emerged from the shadows like living smoke, moving with predator's grace. His dark cloak merged with the darkness, confidence radiating amid chaos.
Somehow, with his touch, her mind began to clear. She looked up at him with a mixture of relief and growing wariness.
"YOU!" Méline shrieked the moment she saw him, pointing an accusing finger. "This is all YOUR fault! You abandoned us! You left us to get captured by these crazy priests and dragged into this nightmare! I want double—no, TRIPLE payment for this disaster!"
Elias chuckled, not even glancing in her direction. "Payment? You're alive, aren't you? That's payment enough."
"Don't you dare—"
"Quiet," he said, his voice carrying an edge of steel that cut through her protests like a blade. His eyes gleamed as he surveyed the chamber. "Well, well. What do we have here? An ancient puzzle chamber filled with treasures, no doubt. How delightfully... profitable."
Elena appeared from another direction, efficiently but clearly irritated as she dragged Andreas by his arm. "Come on, you useless lump," she muttered. "I swear, keeping you alive is harder than hunting dragons. Stop stumbling over your own feet."
Andreas whimpered as she hauled him along. "I can't... the voices... they're so loud..."
"They'll be a lot quieter if you end up like the priest over there," Elena snapped, gesturing at Samuel's corpse. "So move."
"Now then," Elias continued, his attention returning to the chamber with an almost greedy intensity. "Let me explain what's really happening in this marvelous death trap. The blind shall find what they seek—when you meet the gaze of a statue, madness takes you. Close your eyes for more than twenty seconds, and hidden spears will end you. But here's what your dead friend missed..."
He guided the priestess between the towering figures, his movements precise and purposeful. "Even with your eyes closed, you're still going insane because the statues are looking at you. The riddle isn't about you becoming blind—it's about finding the statues that already are."
As her sanity stabilized under his guidance, the priestess began to notice details she'd missed before. Scattered throughout the forest of figures were statues that were different—not in pose or clothing, but in their faces. Several had their eyes carved shut, others bore stone blindfolds, and a few had their hands covering their eyes in gestures of grief or shame.
"Blind statues," she breathed in understanding.
"Exactly. And around each one..." Elias stopped beneath a statue whose hands covered its face, "...is a safe zone. The blind statues can't see you, so their madness-inducing gaze can't reach you here."
The relief was immediate and profound. Standing within the radius of the blind statue felt like stepping into calm waters after being tossed by a storm.
Elena efficiently herded the other survivors toward different blind statues, though she continued grumbling as she dragged Andreas. "This one's about as useful as a broken sword. Come on, Andreas, this way. Try not to trip over air."
"How many safe zones?" the priestess asked, her analytical mind reasserting itself.
Elias had already been counting, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of solving a complex puzzle. "Seven blind statues total. Perfect—exactly half the number of people who entered this room, including your perforated friend. Each safe zone has room for precisely two people."
As Elena settled Andreas beneath his assigned statue—where he immediately curled into a ball—the priestess began putting the remaining pieces together. "The second line of the riddle—'In the clear reflection lies the path.'"
"Clever girl," Elias said approvingly. "But it's not the mirrors—those are death traps that reflect the statues' gazes, creating inescapable prisons of madness. The real reflection you need is up there."
He pointed toward the black ceiling with obvious satisfaction, like a master showing off a prized collection. "Those red glimmers reflected in the glass—they're not just pretty lights."
Following his gesture, the priestess could now clearly see them: seven distinct points of red light reflected in the dark ceiling, like rubies scattered across black velvet.
"Crystals," she whispered.
"Red crystals embedded in the tops of certain statues' heads," Elias confirmed. "Seven of them—the same number as blind statues. And here's where it gets interesting: each blind statue has exactly one red crystal statue positioned to look directly at it."
The priestess studied their surroundings more carefully. Sure enough, she could identify one statue whose carved head bore a gleaming red crystal at its crown, and it was facing directly toward their stone guardian.
"The third hint is about the ordeal of emotions," Elias continued. "Each red crystal statue is a key into some kind of trial. Ancient magic like this always guards the most valuable treasures." His eyes gleamed. "And whatever's hidden in this place... it's going to be mine."
Looking around at the visible red-crystal statues, the priestess could see what he meant about the emotions. One wept stone tears, another had a sword piercing through its carved heart, and a third bore an expression of terrible, consuming rage.
"The fourth hint," she said slowly, "is about finding your own truth within these ordeals to claim whatever lies beyond."
"Before we proceed," Elias said, his grip on her shoulder tightening slightly, "let's establish some ground rules. I know exactly who you are, Saintess."
Elena called out from her position. "Saintess Lyssana de Serenthia. Youngest person ever to achieve sainthood in the Cult of Mortalis. I would never forget the face of such a prominent figure."
Lyssana's hand moved instinctively toward her weapon, but Elias's chuckle stopped her.
"I wouldn't try it. Your holy powers don't work here, remember? Besides, I'm not interested in whatever grudges the outside world might have." His eyes swept the chamber greedily. "I'm only interested in what treasures this place is hiding."
"I..." Lyssana hesitated, then seemed to deflate slightly. "I surrender. I'm not here for conquest or politics. I only want to uncover the secrets of these ruins—to understand what happened here."
"How refreshingly honest," Elias said with mock appreciation. "Now then, everyone needs to position themselves in front of a red crystal statue. The choice is yours—pick whichever calls to you."
Elena was still struggling with Andreas, who had become completely non-responsive. "Great, just great. This one's gone completely catatonic. Come on, you useless sack, we're moving." She hauled him bodily toward the angry statue. "If you get me killed because you can't function, I'm haunting you in the afterlife."
Sagan and Méline nervously approached the weeping statue, while Elias guided Lyssana toward the one with the sword through its heart—not because of any grand plan, but simply because it was closest to their current position.
"What happens when we look at them?" Sagan called out, his voice still shaky.
"The ordeals begin," Elias replied, but his tone was excited rather than grim. "Trials of trust and betrayal, anger, grief—whatever's carved into their faces. But remember the final line: you need to find your own truth within these trials to claim whatever reward awaits." He paused, his smile turning predatory. "And I intend to claim everything this place has to offer."
One by one, they moved from their safe positions toward their chosen statues. The red crystals atop the stone heads pulsed with an otherworldly light, and as each pair positioned themselves before their selected guardian, the air itself seemed to thicken with ancient magic and promise of hidden wealth.
"Ready?" Elias asked, his voice practically purring with anticipation.
There were nervous nods all around.
"Then look into their eyes and let's see what treasures await us."
As soon as they made eye contact with their respective statues, the red crystals flared with brilliant light.
The Hall of Deception had claimed them, and the ordeals were about to begin.