The forest path grew narrower, the canopy above blotting out the remaining sunlight. Each step forward felt heavier, as though the earth itself resisted their passage. Yet with Seraphim at her side, Nuna found strength she hadn't known she possessed.
A low hum began to rise from the underbrush, subtle at first, then intensifying—a chorus of whispered voices and rustling leaves that seemed almost sentient. The silver dust around them responded, twisting into spirals that pointed toward a clearing just ahead.
Nuna slowed, sensing the tension in the air. "Do you feel that?" she asked, her voice barely above the wind.
Seraphim nodded, his eyes scanning the shadows. "The threshold is near. This is where the past and present intertwine… where choices must be made."
As they stepped into the clearing, the world seemed to shift. Time slowed, the air thick with the scent of ancient incense and wet moss. In the center stood a stone pedestal, carved with symbols that glimmered faintly, as though aware of their approach.
Nuna swallowed hard, gripping Seraphim's hand tighter. "This… this is it," she whispered.
"Yes," he said, voice steady, though his grip on her hand hinted at the gravity of what awaited them. "Beyond this, nothing is certain. But whatever happens… we face it together."
A shiver ran down Nuna's spine as the silver motes rose higher, forming a column of light around the pedestal, encasing them in a cocoon of spectral energy. The whispers grew louder, almost forming words she could not yet understand.
And in that moment, standing at the threshold between the living and the past, Nuna realized that the real journey was only beginning.