The hallway ahead felt different the moment we stepped through the last door. The air was heavier, thicker, as though every breath required more effort. Shadows clung to the walls, but now they stretched unnaturally, bending toward the floor, while light above flickered like distant stars.
"This one… I feel it in my chest," I murmured, gripping the key tightly. "Something's… off."
She nodded, eyes scanning the space. "Gravity. It's… fluctuating. This room can control it."
We moved cautiously. The floor beneath us shifted subtly, tilting without warning. Shadows clung to us differently depending on where we stood, stretching or curling in response to the pull of the anomaly. The key pulsed warmly in my pocket, almost alive, almost urging me forward.
A sudden lurch threw me off balance. My companion caught me just in time, her eyes wide but focused. The floor had tilted sharply beneath our feet, forcing us to adjust quickly—or fall.
"Careful," she warned. "Every step matters."
The walls themselves seemed to bend, pulling us toward or away from certain areas. Gravity wasn't just vertical—it shifted unpredictably, sideways, even upward in patches. Shadows moved with it, sometimes blocking our path, sometimes stretching into bridges or barriers.
I realized immediately: observation alone wouldn't be enough. This anomaly demanded coordination, timing, and trust in each other. One wrong step could mean injury—or worse.
The key pulsed stronger, guiding us toward a glowing door in the far corner. But reaching it required precise movement: jumping when gravity shifted upward, crouching when it pulled too strongly down, balancing across tilted surfaces as shadows twisted into obstacles.
"This is insane," I whispered, adjusting to a sudden upward pull. "I can feel the room testing strength, reflexes, everything."
She smiled faintly, gripping my arm. "It's teaching us to move as one. To anticipate. To adapt."
Step by step, we navigated the room. Gravity shifted unpredictably, yet the key pulsed steadily, providing guidance if we trusted it. Shadows twisted and curled, forming temporary steps or walls, forcing us to react and adapt instantly.
A sudden surge of energy made the floor beneath us tilt sharply. I felt myself sliding sideways, but my companion grabbed my hand, anchoring me. The room pulsed, almost as if laughing—or approving.
Finally, we reached the glowing door. The key warmed in my pocket, pulsing like a heartbeat, as if acknowledging our success. The gravity normalized, and shadows returned to their usual curling forms along the walls.
I exhaled, heart pounding. "Every anomaly… is escalating. And this one… tested every instinct we have."
She nodded. "And the building isn't done. The next one will push us even further—if we survive."
The hallway beyond the door was calm, but I could still feel faint ripples of shifting gravity—a reminder that the anomalies were always watching, always waiting, always testing.
Somewhere deeper in the building, the next anomaly awaited, stronger, more unpredictable, and ready to challenge us in ways we hadn't yet imagined.