Chapter 22: The Hollow Gate

Victor's every instinct screamed for him to stop, but there was no turning back now. The wraiths, though vanquished, had been a mere distraction. The true test lay ahead.

The forest around him had become a twisted labyrinth. The path before him was no longer clear—only a dense, fog-laden maze, its edges curling into unnatural angles. The air was thick with an almost tangible pressure, as if the very fabric of reality was bending in response to his presence.

The **Eternal Flame Ember** in his hand burned brightly, the only source of warmth and light in the oppressive darkness that pressed in from all sides. Yet, despite its fiery glow, the surroundings seemed to absorb its warmth. A faint chill spread through the air, biting at his skin.

Victor's gaze locked onto a distant shape that emerged from the gloom—a towering archway made of blackened stone, etched with symbols that pulsed with a cold, sickly light. It stood as though it had always been there, hidden in plain sight, waiting for him to approach. A gate—no, a *Hollow Gate*.

He had heard rumors of such gates—ancient and cursed, leading to realms unknown. Legends spoke of them as places where the boundaries between worlds thinned, where time and space unraveled, and only those with the strength of will could pass through unscathed. The gate itself seemed to hum with a strange energy, like the calm before a storm, and Victor could feel it pulling at him, beckoning him forward.

He stepped closer, every instinct warning him to be cautious, but his feet moved on their own accord. The gate was not only a physical structure—it was a challenge, a trial in and of itself. Seris had been clear about the stakes: only by surviving these trials would he become worthy of the ember's full power.

Victor took a deep breath, his hand tightening around the ember. The glow from it flickered, brighter now, as if acknowledging the importance of this moment. He was standing on the edge of something far more dangerous than the wraiths—this gate was no mere obstacle. It was a *test*.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the temperature plummeted. A sharp wind whipped through the air, carrying with it the scent of decay. The mist thickened, swirling violently around his legs as though trying to pull him under.

Victor's vision blurred as the world around him shifted. The stone archway that had stood so firm moments before now seemed to ripple, like the surface of water disturbed by an unseen force. His heart raced as the ground beneath him began to crack open, sending tremors up through his legs.

Suddenly, the fog cleared, and the landscape before him unfolded—a vast, barren wasteland stretching into infinity. Jagged rocks rose from the cracked earth, their sharp edges gleaming with an otherworldly, dark luster. Above, the sky was a swirling vortex of black clouds and red lightning, casting an eerie, unnatural glow on everything below.

Victor stepped forward, unease crawling under his skin. This was no ordinary place. This was a realm of emptiness, one that seemed to stretch forever, a place that defied logic and reason.

And standing in the center of this desolate world was a figure. Cloaked in shadows, its features hidden by the darkness that clung to it like a shroud, the figure was tall, impossibly tall, with limbs that seemed too long, too thin to be human.

Victor's grip on the ember tightened. The figure turned toward him, its head tilting as if studying him, and the air itself seemed to crackle with a malevolent energy. The figure spoke—not with words, but with a voice that filled Victor's mind, reverberating like a thousand whispers all at once.

*"You seek power,"* the voice intoned, each syllable dripping with disdain. *"You seek to control the flame, but you do not understand it. Power is not a gift—it is a burden. A chain that will weigh you down until you break beneath it."*

Victor swallowed hard. He didn't need to hear more. This was not a simple trial—it was a warning, a challenge to his very resolve.

*"You are not ready,"* the voice continued, its tone growing colder. *"But I will give you a choice: leave now, and the trials will end. Or continue forward, and face what you are truly capable of. Choose wisely, for this path leads to your destruction."*

Victor's thoughts raced, his mind caught between the fear of the unknown and the burning desire to prove himself. He had come this far—not just for power, but for the strength to protect those he cared about. He couldn't stop now.

Without hesitation, he raised the **Eternal Flame Ember**, its light flaring bright enough to rival the storms above.

"I'm not afraid," Victor said, his voice steady, though his heart thundered in his chest. "I won't turn back. I'm ready for whatever comes."

For a moment, there was silence. Then, the figure's head lowered, as if acknowledging his determination. Its form began to dissolve into the air, melting away like smoke, until only the wind remained, carrying the voice with it.

*"Very well, then. The true trial begins."*

The ground beneath Victor's feet trembled violently, and the world around him began to shift. The sky darkened further, and shadows stretched unnaturally, reaching out like tendrils toward him. The winds howled as if angry, pushing against him, trying to drag him backward.

Victor stood firm, his pulse quickening, but his resolve unwavering. He had faced the wraiths. He had faced the flames. This was no different.

The **Eternal Flame Ember** burned brighter, its light cutting through the darkness as he moved forward. The Hollow Gate had opened, but now, the real test had begun.

And Victor was determined to see it through.