Aden took a slow breath, rubbing a hand down his face. He wasn't sure how long he had been trapped in this temple, but his tolerance for ancient deathtraps was already running thin.
He turned back to the entrance.
Or at least, where the entrance used to be.
Now it was just a wall.
He exhaled through his nose. Of course.
"Yeah, why not? Love it when doors disappear behind me. Real confidence booster."
Shaking his head, he turned to the circular chamber ahead. Something about it felt… wrong. The room was lined with statues, each one tall and worn by time. Their faces were featureless, yet Aden had the uncomfortable feeling they were watching him anyway.
"Let me guess," he muttered. "At some point, one of you is gonna try to kill me. Or all of you. Yeah, probably all of you."
None of the statues responded. But then again, neither did the last inanimate object that tried to murder him.
At the center of the room, five pedestals stood in a precise pattern, each holding an object:
A bowl of ash, fine as dust.
A rusted dagger, barely holding together.
A stone tablet, covered in faded inscriptions.
A torch, still unlit.
A small key, unimpressive and almost too convenient.
Aden stared at them for a long moment. Great. A classic 'pick the wrong thing and die' situation.
He sighed. He hated choices.
---
The walls bore murals, their images cracked and worn with age. Aden traced his fingers over them, piecing together the sequence.
The first showed a man holding the bowl of ash. The second depicted a person cutting their palm with the dagger. The third… was too damaged to read.
"Yeah, no, that's not suspicious at all," Aden muttered.
Still, he understood the pattern. The temple wasn't testing strength it was testing understanding.
Aden's eyes drifted back to the pedestals.
The key? Way too easy. The kind of 'easy' that gets you impaled.
The torch? Lighting things on fire is usually a good idea… except when it isn't.
That left the bowl of ash. He frowned, remembering the mural.
The man holding the ash wasn't dying. He was changing.
"Alright," Aden muttered, picking up the bowl. "Let's see if I just signed my own death warrant."
---
The chamber rumbled immediately.
Aden closed his eyes for a second. Why do I even act surprised anymore?
A deep groaning filled the air as the statues shifted, their heads slowly turning to face him. The torches lining the room flickered to life, casting long, warped shadows.
Aden waited.
And waited.
Nothing happened.
"…Okay," he said slowly. "So, either I passed, or I'm about to get hit with the delayed death penalty."
A moment later, a section of the wall slid open, revealing a dark passageway. A breath of stale air seeped through, carrying the scent of something old… and waiting.
Aden exhaled.
"Well. Guess I live a little longer."
He adjusted his backpack and stepped forward, knowing full well that his luck wouldn't last forever.