I stared at the last doorway—a simple stone arch identical to the others we'd passed through. No heat radiated from it like the Chamber of Flames. No frost crusted its edges like the Chamber of Frost. No deceptive emptiness like the Void, no reflective surfaces like the Chamber of Reflections, and no oppressive silence like the Whispers. Just an ordinary doorway leading to our final trial before facing the Winter King.
"One more," I said, glancing at my companions.
Laina tightened the strap of her quiver, her violet eyes haunted by whatever she'd heard in the Chamber of Whispers. The confident mask she typically wore had slipped back into place, but cracks remained visible—like thin fractures in ice that would spread under pressure.
Joran stood slightly apart from us, checking his knives for the third time. When he thought no one was watching, his hand occasionally rose to his temple, as if feeling for a crown that wasn't there.
"Any guesses what's behind door number six?" I asked, trying to lighten the mood.
Laina's mouth twitched. "Something horrible, no doubt."
"Naturally." I drew Heartseeker, feeling the blade's reassuring warmth spread up my arm. Its twin, Frostbite, remained sheathed—this close to the Winter King, I sensed the heat-focused blade would serve us better. "Let's get this over with."
We approached the doorway together, our footsteps echoing in the vast central chamber. As we crossed the threshold, the familiar disorientation of transition washed over me—that momentary vertigo as the Temple's magic transported us somewhere that couldn't possibly fit within its physical dimensions.
When my vision cleared, I found myself standing in a circular room with walls of polished white stone. Unlike the other chambers, this one was brightly lit by an unseen source, every corner visible. At the center stood a large hourglass mounted on a stone pedestal, easily seven feet tall, filled with glittering blue-white sand. The upper bulb was nearly full, only a few grains trickling through the narrow neck to the bottom chamber.
"Well, this is unexpected," I muttered. "Almost peaceful."
I approached the hourglass cautiously, studying its construction. The frame was made of some silver-white metal I didn't recognize, etched with runes that seemed to shift when I tried to focus on them. The sand itself glowed with an inner light, each grain sparkling like a miniature star.
"Anyone else notice there's no obvious exit?" I pointed out, looking around the seamless circular room.
Laina completed her circuit of the chamber and shook her head. "No doors, no windows. Just us and this giant timepiece."
"The trial must involve the hourglass," Joran said, approaching it from the opposite side. "Perhaps we need to turn it over?"
I reached out, my fingers hovering near the metal frame. "Let's not touch anything until we understand what we're dealing with."
The moment I spoke, the room shuddered slightly. A grinding sound came from above, and a section of the ceiling retracted, revealing a circular opening. Through it, more of the glittering sand began to pour, forming a perfect column that fell directly into the top of the hourglass.
"That can't be good," I said, stepping back.
The new influx increased the pressure, accelerating the flow through the narrow neck. What had been a trickle became a steady stream, the bottom bulb filling noticeably.
"It's measuring our time," Joran observed. "When it runs out..."
He didn't need to finish. We all understood the implication.
"So we find the way out before the sand runs out," I said. "Simple enough."
Laina snorted. "Nothing in this Temple is simple."
As if to prove her point, the room shuddered again. The white stone floor began to crack, hairline fractures spreading outward from the hourglass pedestal. Through these cracks, pale blue light seeped upward, casting an eerie glow across our faces.
"Move!" I shouted as a section of floor near Joran gave way entirely, crumbling into a pit of swirling blue energy below.
He leaped back just in time, the edge of the newly formed hole crumbling under his boot heel. More sections began to fall away, the solid floor rapidly becoming a precarious network of narrow stone paths over a glowing abyss.
"Get to the walls!" Laina called, already sprinting toward the curved outer edge of the room.
We followed her lead, navigating the rapidly disintegrating floor. I jumped over a widening gap, landed hard on a crumbling section, then rolled to more stable ground near the wall. Joran made it seconds later, his face tight with concentration.
"Now what?" he asked, pressing his back against the white stone.
I glanced toward the hourglass, still standing untouched on its pedestal despite the chaos around it. The sand continued to flow, perhaps a quarter of the top chamber now emptied.
"We need to reach the hourglass," I decided. "It's the key to this trial."
"The floor won't hold us," Laina pointed out. "And that pit looks... unfriendly."
She wasn't wrong. The blue energy swirling below us radiated a cold that I felt in my spirit.
I studied the remaining floor. What had once been solid stone was now a spider's web of narrow paths, some barely wide enough for a single foot, all suspended over the energy pit. The paths shifted and crumbled even as we watched, making any route to the central pedestal treacherous at best, suicidal at worst.
"We need to—" I began, then froze as something emerged from the swirling energy below.
At first, I thought it was merely vapor or mist. Then it took shape—a human figure, translucent and blue-white, rising through what had once been solid floor. As it fully materialized, I recognized the face with a shock.
It was me. Or rather, a version of me—older, harder, with lines of exhaustion etched into a face that had seen too much. This spectral copy wore the same clothes I did, carried the same weapons, but moved with a bone-deep weariness I hadn't yet earned.
"What the hell?" I breathed.
My double didn't acknowledge me. Instead, it—he—turned toward the hourglass and began picking his way across the fractured pathways as if he'd done this many times before.
"Isaiah..." Laina's voice trailed off as two more figures rose from the energy pit—spectral versions of herself and Joran, similarly aged and worn.
"Time," Joran whispered. "This is the Chamber of Time."
As he spoke, his double turned toward him, mouth moving in words we couldn't hear. The spectral Joran looked desperate, gesturing urgently toward the hourglass, then pointing at something on his wrist—where a watch might be.
"They're trying to tell us something," Laina said, watching her own double navigate the treacherous paths.
I focused on my spectral self, who had nearly reached the hourglass.
"They're showing us the way," I realized. "They've done this already."
"Or they will do it," Joran countered. "Time works strangely here."
I didn't waste time debating temporal mechanics. My double had reached the pedestal and was examining the hourglass closely. Following his example seemed like our best option.
"I'm going after him," I announced. "Follow if you can, but be careful."
I stepped onto the nearest path, testing it with my weight. It held, though fine cracks spread beneath my boot. Moving slowly, I followed the route my spectral self had taken, placing my feet exactly where he had placed his.
Behind me, I heard Laina and Joran doing the same, following their own doubles across the fractured floor. The paths continued to crumble, forcing us to move faster than was safe. Twice I nearly fell when sections gave way beneath me, saved only by quick reflexes and desperate grabs at more stable areas.
As I neared the hourglass, my double turned to face me directly for the first time. His eyes—my eyes—held a weight of knowledge that made my stomach clench. He pointed urgently at the hourglass, then at his temple, then made a turning motion with his hands.
"What are you trying to tell me?" I muttered.
The sand continued to flow, now half depleted. Whatever time we had was running out quickly.
My double approached me, his form flickering like a candle in wind. When he spoke, his voice sounded distant, as if coming from the bottom of a well:
"Remember... the price... is... memory."
"What price? What memory?" I demanded.
But he was already fading, his form becoming transparent as the blue energy reclaimed him. Before disappearing entirely, he reached toward the hourglass one last time, his hand passing through the metal frame as if to grasp the very concept of time itself.
I reached the pedestal moments later, bracing myself against it as the path behind me collapsed entirely. Laina and Joran weren't far behind, their own spectral guides now vanished.
"What did yours say?" Laina asked as she joined me, breathing hard.
"Something about memory being the price," I replied, studying the hourglass more closely. The sand continued to pour, perhaps a third of the upper chamber still full. "Yours?"
"'Accept the years,'" she quoted. "Whatever that means."
Joran reached us last, his face pale. "Mine said 'The crown waits.'"
I filed that information away for later consideration. Right now, we needed to focus on surviving this chamber.
The hourglass seemed our only hope. I examined it carefully, looking for mechanisms or hidden switches. Nothing obvious presented itself—just smooth metal and flowing sand.
"The sand represents our time in the trial," I reasoned aloud. "When it runs out..."
"We fail," Laina finished.
"Or die," Joran added helpfully.
I placed my hands on the cool metal frame, feeling subtle vibrations through my palms. "My double tried to turn it," I recalled. "Maybe that's what we need to do."
"Turn back time?" Laina sounded skeptical. "Is that even possible?"
"In a place called the Chamber of Time? I'd say it's likely." I gripped the frame more firmly. "Help me."
They joined me, positioning themselves around the hourglass. Together, we attempted to rotate the massive timepiece. At first, it resisted, seemingly fixed to the pedestal. Then, with a groan of metal against stone, it began to turn.
The moment it moved, pain lanced through my temples. Images flashed behind my eyes—memories rushing past like leaves in a storm. I saw my mother's face, Miri's laugh, my father's hands showing me how to tie knots. I saw the streets of the Depths, the cramped apartment, the school I'd fought so hard to attend.
"What's happening?" I gasped, nearly losing my grip as the pain intensified.
Laina's face contorted in similar agony. "It's taking... memories..."
"Keep turning," Joran grunted through clenched teeth, his knuckles white on the metal frame.
The hourglass rotated slowly, the sand inside shifting in defiance of gravity. As the bottom bulb began to empty back into the top, years of my life flashed before me—then began to fade, details blurring, faces becoming indistinct.
"The price is memory," I repeated, understanding dawning through the pain. "We're trading our past for more time."
With each degree of rotation, the memories grew more distant, harder to grasp. I fought to hold onto the important ones—my name, my family, my purpose here. Other details slipped away like water through cupped hands.
When the hourglass completed its rotation, now standing inverted on the pedestal, the pain subsided. The sand began flowing again, but now from the newly positioned top chamber—giving us a fresh measure of time.
I staggered back, my head pounding. Something felt missing, holes in my mind where memories should have been. I knew who I was, why I was here, but the details of my life had become sketchy, incomplete.
"Did it work?" Laina asked, her voice uncertain. She pressed her fingers to her temples, wincing. "I can't remember... things I should know."
"It worked," Joran confirmed, pointing to the floor.
The fractures had sealed themselves, the stone once again solid beneath our feet. And on the far wall, a doorway had appeared—our exit from the Chamber of Time.
"We should go," I said, taking a step toward it. "Before the sand runs out again."