Two truths were revealed to me right before the end of the world.
The first one was—fear is heavy.
The second one was—shadows are eavesdroppers.
The day started like every other day, to be precise, the day started with the city giving its dead self a pulse.
Neon signs were still blinking even though the sun was already up. Traders were yelling their slogan in full excitement. Sirens were screaming in a distance where no one felt guilty.
I was just a spectator at the metro platform, my hands buried deep in my jacket pockets, and watching the glass wall break my reflection into pieces. The man who was looking at me was not remarkable—a bit lanky, black-eyed, and easily forgettable.
That was the survival tip: to learn the art of invisibility by not moving.
The station announcement rang out: The next train will be here in 3 minutes.
Three minutes is a great time to let regret blossom.
The marking of me had begun at midnight.
The mark did not create heat. It did not shine or burn. It did not cause any discomfort. It was like an annoying little thought that you could not quit once it occurred.
A pressure behind the eyes. A whisper near the ribs. During my fist closing, I could feel it there—something was watching me from the inner dark.
The night at exactly midnight had ripped apart.
Not just broken. Torn like paper, extremely thin and very much annoyed.
The whole city went into blackness all at once. The entire sound spectrum disappeared at once—machines, people, and even the wind. My heart beat also seemed to stop temporarily, not knowing if it was still allowed or not. After that, the announcement came not on screens but in the head.
THE DESCENT TRIAL HAS COMMENCED.
THE CANDIDATES ARE: POSITIVE.
GET READY.
People were screaming. Some were praying. Some were laughing as if the joke had finally hit its target. A few—very few—fell silent, their eyes were vacant as if they were deeply aware of the truth. I was one of those who kept quiet. Not because of the courage I possessed but because of the term *eligible* which had already picked me.
Now, several hours down the line, the city gave the impression that nothing was different.
However, it was a bad liar.
A fellow traveler next to me was constantly checking his cell phone even though there was no signal available. His leg was moving up and down rapidly. A mother was hugging her baby so tightly as if by doing so, she could keep the outside world from seeing them. The shadows above us were wrong—too long, too sharp, as if they were trying to reclaim something they had lost.
I looked down.
My shadow and my movements were not in sync.
Whenever I changed my position, it would take a moment to respond. When I lifted my hand, it would be uncertain, fingering, almost like it was not willing to listen. I swallowed and told myself to stay calm. Panic was noticeable. Noisy things got seen.
The train pulled in.
Metal screeched against metal. The doors opened with a bang letting out a loud puff of hot air and irritated people. I walked in with the crowd and took up a position against the wall. The bulbs flashed once, then twice.
Then, they went off.
Blackness encompassed the entire carriage.
Someone swore, another one giggled to mask fear, a kid in the back started crying. The lights in the emergency case should have been switched on, but they weren't.
What happened instead was that the ground disappeared.
I could not feel that I was falling. There was no blowing air, no dizziness. A second before, I was standing with people; the next moment, a huge sky that was no sky at all was looking down upon me alone.
It was a roof.
Heavy stone was above, massive, and old like a mountain, and there were undecipherable signs carved on it which no one, including me, could look at for long. Smoky blue fire was kept alive at the wall by the light that refused to burn anything and only cast shadows which were in a war with none. The dust and ancient iron mingling in the air were the only sources of the smell.
Then a voice sounded.
It was coming from all directions and none, as if many people were speaking in a rehearsal and the master was one who never granted mercy.
WELCOME, CANDIDATE.
I kept my mouth shut.
The woman's insistence had been unintentional but along with its so-called good effects, it had taught me a very important lesson: at times, silence was the only thing better than truth.
But the voice did not stop.
YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN THE DESCENT AS A GIFT. GOOD OUTCOME WILL BE YOUR LIFE. BAD OUTCOME WILL BE YOUR DEATH.
A brief silence followed.
YOU MAY TAKE THIS AS A SMALL CHANCE.
I nearly burst out laughing.
The place was really big, a round hall with civilized and lively doors set around the walls—a whole lot of them, each unique. Some were very large with iron and deep scars. Others were small, very smooth stone with no handle. One was that of what I thought was bone.
Black water was the content of a basin in the middle of the floor.
My reflection looked back at me, distorted and insecure. The reflection winked when I inched closer.
I got back.
FIRST JUDGMENT: REVEAL YOUR FEAR.
Light words of a faint color illuminated the air and formed the letters that spelled the words.
Fear.
I could list a lot of them. One was dying in solitude. Another was being erased from memory. A third was turning so cruel as to be able to live. However, the real fear was someone very brave picking the name you would not want to be called. Words are not just tools to express thoughts but powerful entities that can even provoke a certain response from the surroundings. I could feel it in this very place—each word was heavy, had consequences.
I was uncertain.
The dark part of the room was like a curtain drawn back.
WARNING. INDECISION IS ALSO A CHOICE.
The shadow that was mine seemed to be pulling me down.
I looked at my feet.
It was now so deep and so dark that it almost looked like black ink under me, slowly spreading. When I looked at the dark thing—yes it had eyes now—I understood.
"I am scared," I said after a pause, "that I will turn into a person this place wishes me to be."
The basin stirred.
The vault kept silent.
After a while the sound spoke again but now it was quieter.
ACKNOWLEDGED.
I felt something change within me. It was not pain, nor was it relief. It was acknowledgment.
SECOND JUDGMENT: ACCEPT YOUR BURDEN.
Black liquid climbed up from the basin, contorting into a blade—not a blade though, a shadow that was masquerading as one. It was shaking and was stuck right in front of me.
EACH GIFT REQUIRES A COST.
I extended my hand.
The instant my fingers came in contact with the blackness, it was like a flood that entered me.
I let out a loud cry.
Ice coursed through my body. Foreign memories clawed at my mind—destruction of cities, muffled cries, shadowy forms prostrating before a void that has no throne. I tipped over, holding my heart as the darkness slid down into my back just like a second heart.
The agony ceased as abruptly as it had started.
I inhaled, soaking wet with sweat, and my eyesight was blurry. The vault became clear again.
Something was being inscribed into my vision.
BURDEN ACQUIRED: VEILED SHADE.
DESCRIPTION:What used to be your shadow is now an ally of your will and a witness to your wrongdoings.
LIMITATION:It holds the memories of everything you try to erase from your mind.
I shut my eyes.
That was the price.
FINAL JUDGMENT:ENTER.
At once, all the doors creaked.
There were noises behind them—growls, whispers, crying, exceedingly sharp laughter that couldn't possibly be human. The light of the pale fire brightened, making my shadow very large on the wall.
It was already moving before me.
Pointing.
Towards a door made of crumbling stone that was branded with an eye intersected by a line.
I was standing still.
My legs were trembling, but they did not give up.
"Why that one?" I directed my question to the chamber, the voice, the universe.
My shadow responded by clenching its hold on my feet, and so I was pushed to go on.
Then I realized.
The strong were not the ones to get rewarded in this place.
The honest were the ones who got rewarded.
My hand was on the door.
The stone felt warm to my touch.
There was something behind the door—something that might either kill me, or break me, or make me kneel.
The smile was on my face, thin and tired.
I said in a whisper, "Okay. Let's find out what you need from me."
The door creaked open.
Darkness, like an old friend, stormed out to welcome me.