The tower didn't welcome them.
It waited.
No torches lit. No guidance given. No warmth in the air. Only a cold draft bleeding out from the open gate like breath from a dying lung.
They entered in silence.
Mira went second, blade out and steady. Tomas followed, checking corners that didn't exist. Kairis brought up the rear, eyes half-lidded, sensing things even her voice wouldn't dare name.
The interior was... wrong.
Not in shape, but in feeling.
The walls weren't made of stone. They were memories frozen solid—images flickering beneath the surface like moths behind glass. A corridor stretched out ahead, endlessly looping in on itself. Doors lined both sides, but none had handles. Only sigils carved into wood older than any tree still standing.
Leon stepped forward. The moment his foot hit the floor, one door lit up.
A pale green mark—looped like a noose.
Kairis exhaled. "Trial of Mercy."
Tomas winced. "Why do these things always sound like they want to kill us politely?"
