They all remained, each face set with determination, though Vas could see the flickers of fear in their eyes. Nyra stepped forward, resolute. "I'll go first."
She moved into the center of the sigil, and the moment her foot touched it, the symbols flared to life, casting a cold, blue glow over the garden. Within seconds, Nyra's body went rigid, and her eyes glazed over as she was drawn into her mind world. Vas and Morrigan, having created the sigil, were granted the ability to observe what unfolded.
Nyra found herself in a grand, opulent palace, its walls adorned with rich purple tapestries and glittering chandeliers. Everything gleamed with an eerie perfection, but the air was cold, and a terrible silence filled the space. Her eyes were drawn to a throne at the far end of the hall—a symbol of her ambitions and ultimate goal. Yet no matter how fast or hard she ran toward it, it always seemed just out of reach, vanishing like a mirage the closer she got.
She felt her heart race, her breaths turning ragged. Her worst fear was a deep-seated one: the fear of never reaching her goals, no matter how hard she tried. The more she ran, the more hopeless it seemed, the walls of the palace seeming to close in on her, tightening, restricting her.
From outside, Vas watched, understanding the relentless passage of time within the sigil. "Morrigan," he thought, "isn't this... a bit much?"
"Fear is never easy," she replied softly. "It must be overcome or endured. There is no shortcut here."
For Nyra, hours seemed to pass, then days, and she felt herself weakening under the ceaseless chase. She wanted to cry out, to scream, but her voice echoed back to her, hollow and mocking. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the floor were pulling her down. She reached out, desperate, her fingers brushing empty air as the throne shimmered just out of reach. Her legs gave out, and she fell to her knees, her spirit fraying under the endless pursuit.
But just as despair threatened to consume her, a thought struck her: Maybe running isn't the way. She pushed herself to her feet, shaky and exhausted, and took a deep, calming breath. What if patience is what's needed? What if the answer is in letting go?
She started to walk, slowly, deliberately. The world around her shifted, and the throne finally seemed to stay in place, waiting for her. Each step became lighter, and with calm resolve, she reached the throne. She placed her hand on its arm, feeling a rush of peace and satisfaction course through her.
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On the outside, Vas and Morrigan saw Nyra's eyelids flutter open. She took a deep breath, her gaze steady, her fear conquered.
As Axel eagerly stepped into the glowing sigil, he was transported to a dark, decaying dance floor that sprawled out beneath flickering neon lights. The place looked like an abandoned disco, its walls cracked and covered in graffiti, the once vibrant dance floor littered with broken glass and torn streamers. The air hung heavy, stale, as if the space itself had long been forgotten. Every few moments, a speaker crackled and hissed, playing distorted notes that vanished almost as soon as they emerged.
Axel looked around, a nervous smile flickering on his face. "Well, this is different," he muttered, but his voice echoed back, bouncing off the peeling walls with an unsettling emptiness. There were no people, no friends, no movement or music pulsing to fill the silence. A chill ran down his spine as he realized that, for the first time, he was utterly alone. His worst fear wasn't some monster lurking in the shadows; it was the stillness, the emptiness, the idea that he'd be left to his own devices with no one to entertain or to distract him.
From the outside, Vas watched, observing the nuances of Axel's fear through the shimmering sigil. "So, Morrigan," he asked, "Axel has to face... loneliness?"
"Not just loneliness," she replied, "he fears the boredom, the emptiness that comes with it. His test is to find satisfaction within himself, to learn that his worth isn't tied to the people around him."
Inside the sigil, Axel tried to break the silence with exaggerated dance moves, filling the empty space with his own laughter, his feet moving in rhythm to imaginary beats. But it quickly felt hollow. He slumped against the wall, feeling his pulse quicken with frustration. Why does this place feel so dead? he wondered, his heart sinking. Time passed, each minute dragging as he struggled to find any comfort in the silence around him.
Eventually, exhausted, Axel sat cross-legged on the floor, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Maybe, just maybe, the peace he was avoiding held the key. Slowly, he allowed himself to relax, focusing on his breathing, finding rhythm in the quiet. The emptiness began to feel less oppressive, and he began to enjoy simply being present in his own company. His fear melted away, and the sigil released him back into the real world, where he opened his eyes, a faint smile of victory on his face.
Next was Morgan. She stepped into the sigil, and immediately found herself in a dimly lit alleyway. The walls around her were damp, the shadows stretching ominously as she moved forward, her instincts honed to keep watch on every corner. Her fear took shape in cold, harsh imagery: people lurking just beyond her vision, waiting to strike, leaving her and her brother vulnerable, starving, and alone. The terror of losing her survival instinct, of failing to protect herself and Lewis, wrapped around her heart, tightening like a vise.
Morrigan's voice reached Vas' mind. "Her fear is primal—survival. It's built into her, woven deep. She's fought to escape it for so long."
Morgan's eyes darted around the darkened alley, her pulse racing as shadows flickered and shifted. It felt like a dream where she was always on the verge of being cornered, her every movement guided by desperation. But then she heard something—Lewis's voice, faint but steady. He was there, calling her name, reminding her that she wasn't alone anymore. She paused, realizing that survival wasn't something she faced alone now. Lewis was there, fighting by her side.
With that realization, the shadows receded, the suffocating weight lifted, and Morgan's fear lost its hold. She opened her eyes, exhaling in relief as the world returned to focus.