A low hum rippled through the air as Daniel stepped deeper into the corridor. It was not sound—it was vibration, the kind that thrummed inside his bones. The walls glowed faintly with lines of interlocking symbols, precise and cold. They weren't alive; they were crafted—each glyph pulsing in a measured rhythm, like the heartbeat of a mechanism that had waited for centuries.
The floor was glassy, formed from condensed crystal dust. Every step set off soft echoes that vanished into the endless dark ahead. Mira walked beside him, blades drawn, eyes flicking from one wall to the next. "This doesn't feel like a natural formation."
David knelt and traced a glyph with his finger. It shimmered gold and hissed before fading. "It isn't. These are glyph arrays. Whoever built this controlled essence through language."
Daniel crouched next to him, running his hand along another line of symbols. Sparks jumped between his fingertips and the glyphs, as though lightning itself recognized the pattern. "They're not like the runes outside. These react to intent."
"Meaning?" Mira asked.
"Meaning they're… listening for purpose, not sound." Daniel frowned. "Eryndor must've designed this."
The corridor widened into a hall. Pillars carved from obsidian rose toward an unseen ceiling, and at the center stood a stone slab half-buried in light. Dust gathered at its base, but the writing etched upon it still glowed—a script so ancient it felt wrong to look at for too long.
Mira brushed the surface gently. "It's in the same glyph-language."
David nodded. "Translate it, Daniel. You're the one the lightning likes."
Daniel placed his palm against the slab. A current ran through him, sharp and clean. Words began to form—not in speech, but directly in his mind.
> I am Eryndor Vael, Core Formation Adept of the Twin Moons.
To those who reach this hall, know that knowledge alone will not open the path beyond.
Power guided by wisdom, courage tempered by restraint—only through these will you earn the right to see further.
Beyond this door lies the first test. Fail, and your essence shall scatter to dust.
Succeed, and you will glimpse the heart of my craft—the cycle of the elements made one.
The glow faded, leaving a faint crackle of lightning between Daniel's fingers. He stepped back slowly, breathing hard.
"Did you understand it?" Mira asked.
He nodded. "Enough. This was written by Eryndor himself. He must've known others would come. He built the realm to test them."
David's gaze shifted to the far end of the hall, where the walls bent inward to form an archway sealed by interlocked glyphs. "Then that's the gate."
The archway towered over them, its frame etched with countless layers of symbols—circles within circles, weaving together like strands of lightning. No light passed through; it was sealed completely.
Mira exhaled. "Only the worthy, huh?"
Daniel studied the glyphs. "They're bound by elemental balance—lightning, earth, and shadow. Three elements… three of us."
David smirked faintly. "So it wants cooperation."
"Or proof," Daniel said. "Let's find out which."
They formed a triangle before the gate, each standing before a glowing circle carved into the floor. When their essence flared simultaneously, the glyphs above stirred to life. Lightning bled from Daniel's circle, shadows rose around Mira, and golden dust spiraled from David's feet. The energies intertwined, creating a column of twisting light that struck the archway.
For a heartbeat, nothing happened. Then the air convulsed.
The hall shuddered as streams of energy burst from the walls, weaving together into three figures—humanoid shapes formed of glyphs themselves. Each radiated a different hue: blue for lightning, gold for earth, black for shadow.
Mira took a step back. "So that's the test."
"No time for talk," David growled. The golden figure lunged at him, its arms turning into stone blades. He caught the strike on his forearm and countered with a pulse of earthen energy that sent cracks racing through the hall.
Mira vanished into smoke, reappearing behind her opponent. Her daggers met the shadow-formed blade mid-swing, sparks bursting as both forces clashed. The impact sent her sliding backward, but she twisted midair, landing in a crouch.
Daniel faced the blue one. It moved like lightning—instant, blinding. He barely caught the first strike, sparks exploding where his palm met the glyph's arm. It wasn't alive, yet it fought with intelligence born of Eryndor's design.
Circulate with rhythm… let the storm breathe through you, the Codex whispered.
He obeyed instinct. Lightning gathered in his chest, threaded through his veins, and for a moment, he felt the glyphs in the walls resonate with his pulse. He twisted aside, the construct's strike grazing him, and slammed his palm into its torso. The explosion tore it apart in a burst of light.
Across the hall, Mira's smoke coiled tighter, enveloping her foe until it imploded silently. David brought his fist down, shattering the golden figure into shards of glittering dust.
The hall fell still.
One by one, the glyphs in the archway unlocked, dissolving into streams of energy that flowed upward. The gate shimmered, light bleeding through its seams.
David exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. "That's one way to open a door."
Mira smirked faintly. "If this is the first test, I don't want to see the last."
Daniel didn't reply. His gaze stayed fixed on the glyphs still hovering in the air. Some of them rearranged as he watched—forming sequences that looked like equations, lines of power and intent.
He stepped closer. The Codex pulsed softly, syncing with the light.
> Observe the pattern, it whispered. Every glyph speaks a law of balance. Learn them, and you shape the world.
His fingers traced the glowing symbols, following their flow until the last glyph folded into itself and vanished. A faint spark lingered between his fingertips, then sank into his skin.
He felt it settle within him like a seed—tiny, cold, and waiting.
Mira touched his arm. "Daniel? You okay?"
He blinked, realizing how quiet the hall had become. "Yeah. I just… understood something."
David chuckled. "Good. Because I think the next door's ready."
The archway yawned open, revealing a spiral staircase descending into darkness. From below came a faint, rhythmic hum—like the pulse of distant thunder.
Daniel glanced once more at the ruined slab. The last line glowed faintly, only for him.
> Walk willingly into the storm, and the storm shall remember your name.
He smiled grimly. "Let's go meet Eryndor's storm."
And together they stepped into dark, unaware that the glyphs on the walls shifted after them—rearranging quietly, as though taking note of the first ones to pass in centuries.