Endless ascent

Chapter 3: Hall of Echoes

A blinding light consumed him.

Tamer flinched, shielding his eyes with his arm, but the light was too overwhelming. It wasn't just sight—it invaded his mind, his chest, his thoughts. For a moment, it felt like he was falling through a star.

And then… silence.

The light faded.

Tamer opened his eyes.

He stood in a vast corridor that stretched into forever. The walls were smooth obsidian, so polished they reflected his figure—distorted, like a version of himself he didn't recognize. Cold mist slithered around his boots, and the air was heavy, like the entire space was holding its breath.

"Where… am I?"

There was no door, no ceiling. Just him, the endless corridor, and the soft sound of something breathing in the distance—slow and steady, like a sleeping beast waiting to stir.

Suddenly, a soft voice whispered from the shadows.

It was his voice, but warped.

"What is it you truly desire?"

Tamer froze.

The voice echoed again, this time more clearly—coming from all around him.

"What would you give everything for?"

A strange pressure coiled around his heart, and the mist before him began to twist, forming images—like smoke being molded by an invisible hand.

The illusion unfolded.

He saw a boy, no older than ten, training alone in the dead of night beneath a battered oak tree. The boy swung a wooden sword over and over until his knuckles turned raw. His breathing was ragged. His legs shook.

But he didn't stop.

Tamer recognized the scene instantly—it was him. The night after his parents had vanished. The first time he made a vow.

"I'll never be weak again."

The image shifted.

Now he saw himself, older, standing between villagers and a group of raiders. His hands trembled, his blade dull. Blood on his arm. Fear in his chest. And yet, he didn't move.

He stood firm.

"Even if I'm afraid... I'll stand here. I'll fight."

The image twisted again.

The villagers he protected now screamed in terror. Fire consumed their homes. Tamer stood in the same spot, paralyzed. His sword snapped in two. His knees buckled. The people he swore to protect were fading like ashes in the wind.

"No! No, that's not what happened!" Tamer shouted.

He ran toward the illusion, trying to reach them—but his body didn't move. He was stuck. Frozen.

The hallway darkened. From the edge of the shadows, a figure emerged—tall, broad-shouldered, with a sword on his back. His movements were familiar. His gaze—empty.

It was him.

But twisted.

His doppelgänger stepped forward, eyes like hollow voids.

"You fight for others," it said, voice calm and cold, "but deep down, you fight because you fear being nothing."

Tamer gritted his teeth.

"You don't fight for peace. You fight so you can matter. So they remember your name."

"That's not true," Tamer snapped, but his words lacked weight.

"You lift your sword for others because you want to feel needed. You wear kindness like armor… but when no one needs saving, what will you become?"

Tamer's breath caught in his throat.

He couldn't deny the words—not fully.

He had questioned that very thing, deep down where he thought no one would ever look.

What happens after peace?

Would he still have a purpose?

The corridor trembled.

The illusions closed in around him—burning villages, crying voices, failures. The weight pressed against his chest, crushing.

He dropped to one knee.

"I'm not perfect," he whispered. "And maybe I do want to be needed. Maybe I do fear being forgotten."

The illusions paused.

"But I choose to lift my sword anyway. Even if I'm afraid. Even if no one remembers. I fight not to be remembered—but because it's right."

The corridor lit with a sudden burst of gold light.

The doppelgänger's expression cracked—anger? sorrow?—before it shattered into fragments of light.

The obsidian walls splintered, the illusions vanishing in waves of shimmering dust.

Silence returned.

Tamer stood, chest rising and falling, sweat running down his brow. The corridor was gone.

In its place, a small chamber of light had formed—a peaceful room, silent and still. A single doorway stood ahead.

"You have passed the first trial."

"Your heart is imperfect, but it is honest."

Tamer stared at the door.

He exhaled.

"I'm still standing," he muttered, a small smile tugging at his lips.

He placed his hand on the doorway.

Warmth surged through his palm.

"One down. Two to go."

The doorway pulsed with light—and opened.