The fog was thicker this time. The golden thread glowed brighter. I followed without question.
A stone gate rose from the darkness, ancient and overgrown, blocking my path. I hesitated before pushing it open.
Inside, I found a garden, but not the kind you'd ever find in the real world. Eden, maybe. It was both alive and dead—statues stood frozen in time, their faces solemn, hands reaching. Flowers I didn't recognize bloomed wildly, untouched by decay.
The thread led me to a building, a grand structure hidden in the shadows.
Down a flight of stairs.
Through twisting corridors, torches flickering to life as I passed.
At the bottom, two massive doors stood opposite each other.
The thread extended through the one on the right.
I pressed my palm against it, but it wouldn't budge. My lips parted, an exhale escaping, my own breath sounding loud in the suffocating silence.
"What the fuck is this?" I muttered, tapping the door. "Is this one of those 'speak, friend, and enter' situations? Do I need a password? Open sesame? Abracadabra?"
Nothing.
"Cool. No response. Love that for me."
I ran a hand down my face, exhaling sharply before I leaned in, peering through a narrow slit in the stone.
And then I saw him.
A man stood inside.
Pale skin, almost the same color as the statues outside. Silver hair, silver eyes—like moonlight made flesh. His face was achingly beautiful, but there was something… broken in the way he stared back at me.
I blinked. "Oh. Uh. Hey?"
He didn't respond, just kept watching me, those silver eyes a little too sharp, a little too piercing, like he was assessing me.
I cleared my throat. "Okay, so. I don't know what's going on here, but, uh… do you need help?"
Still no response.
I scratched the back of my neck. "I mean, you look trapped. And—" I gestured at the golden thread still glowing between us, "—I'm guessing I'm here for a reason."
A flicker of'movement. His lips parted like he was about to speak, but then he stopped himself.
I shifted on my feet. "Look, I don't know why I'm here, but… if you are trapped, then I promise I'll help you."
That got a reaction. His silver eyes widened, a slow inhale filling his chest. His fingers twitched. Then, without a word, he extended his hand through the slit in the door.
I hesitated.
But something about him—about this whole thing—felt important.
So, I reached out.
The moment our fingers brushed, something shifted.
The ground trembled.
A gust of wind roared through the corridor, though there was no source.
The golden thread blazed, heat rushing up my arm.
And then, as if something ancient had been waiting for this exact moment—
The door unlocked.