Trial of Curiosity
As you step forward, the mist flows around you like liquid silver, guiding your feet over soft, unseen pathways. Gradually, the forest parts, dissolving entirely, until only the ruins of a forgotten settlement remain. Cracked stones, half-collapsed walls, and toppled statues whisper of lives long vanished. Yet two structures dominate the horizon.
One is a tower, impossibly tall, its spire piercing the crimson clouds. Golden runes pulse faintly along its surface, glowing like a heartbeat. Shadows stretch and twist toward you, and the very air seems to vibrate at your skin, tugging at something deeper and unspoken inside you. A sudden clarity strikes you - curiosity, ambition, hunger - urging you to climb, to explore, to claim. The pulse of something vast and secret waits within, though its nature remains veiled.
The other is a library, partially crumbled yet still standing. Heavy doors remain closed, but warm candlelight flickers behind the windows. Shelves bend under the weight of countless tomes, whispering secrets only for those who dare to enter and commit. The scent of parchment and ink winds around your senses, promising understanding to the patient, reward to the careful. A quiet ancient voice seems to murmur in between your breaths; inviting yet cautious.
A soft wind weaves through the ruins, carrying echoes of the past. Perhaps the tower holds wonders too perilous to name. Perhaps the library hides truths you are not yet ready to wield. Yet both beckon.
You push against the tower door and it opens with ease. Behind it you see a spiraling stairwell that coils upward it's last step swallowed into darkness. Golden runes flare faintly as you step inside. Each step you take pulls your chest tight, as though the tower is inhaling through your lungs.
Shapes flicker just beyond your vision: a clawed hand disappearing around a corner, a pale face glimpsed in the gloom. The stairs twist underfoot, sometimes straight, sometimes warped, leading you higher into the tower’s core.
A sudden whisper - a hiss of movement - slithers across your shoulder. Tiny forms skitter along the bannisters, eyes glinting, teeth chattering. Foes have taken notice. They gather in the corners, mirrored in the runes’ glow, their eyes fixed on you. They do not strike - not yet. They tease, circle, taunt, savoring your struggles as you climb.
Every instinct screams retreat, but the tower stretches endlessly above and below now. The pulse of danger mingles with the thrill of the unknown. One wrong step, one glance too long, and you will be swallowed by what dwells within.
The library doors resist, then yield with a long, mournful creak. Warm candlelight spills across endless shelves, gilded spines and cracked bindings whispering under the flicker. The scent of ink and parchment curls around your senses, heavy and intoxicating.
You step inside. Floorboards groan under your weight, and dust motes drift like pale spirits in the air. Between towering shelves, your fingertips trace spines etched with half-familiar scripts, words that dissolve as you try to hold them, sketches of machines that could never exist.
Ahead, a larger chamber opens. In the center rests a pedestal, a single book bound in deep indigo leather. It hums with quiet power, the weight of knowledge pressing gently against your mind. The turning of pages guides you forward, opening a path to the next trial.
All written content is original, drawn from myth, memory, and madness.
All images are generated via Midjourney using custom prompts by the author, unless otherwise stated.
I left my likes as breadcrumbs all the way here. Now the path is blocked, so I’ll wait patiently for it to clear.