Lewis stepped forward, shoulders squared, but the moment he crossed into the sigil, he found himself transported to a bleak, crumbling landscape. He saw his sister's face, her form distant and fragile, and immediately felt his fear surge: the thought of something happening to her, of losing her, was almost unbearable. He'd built his life around becoming stronger, rising through gang ranks to ensure no one could harm her. And yet, here in this grim vision, his strength felt like an illusion, his fists empty.
Lewis clenched his hands, his mind racing. "I'll protect her, whatever it takes," he muttered. But the more he repeated it, the further away her image seemed. Vas watched the scene unfold, sensing the raw tension in Lewis' determination.
"He's strong," Vas thought aloud. "But his strength alone isn't the answer, is it?"
Morrigan replied softly, "No, he must realize it's their strength combined that ensures their safety."
Inside, Lewis stopped, his fists relaxing as he remembered the truth: it wasn't just his power that mattered, but the strength he and Morgan shared. They were a team, and their combined resolve was what gave them an edge. The realization washed over him, and the landscape dissolved, the fear losing its grip as he returned to the present, calmer and more assured.
Finally, Sarah stepped into the sigil, her normally vibrant energy subdued as she crossed the threshold. Instantly, she found herself in a cold, silent void, a place where sound had no meaning. It was a world without rhythm, without the tunes of existence she held so dear. She opened her mouth to speak, to sing, but the silence swallowed everything, as if the universe itself had lost its voice.
Her fear was visceral: the fear of losing the music that connected her to everything around her, of living in a world without harmony. She staggered, clutching her head, desperate for even a single note to break the silence.
"Sarah…" Vas's voice murmured, though he knew she couldn't hear it. "She needs to learn that she can make her own music, create her own tunes in this world of silence."
Inside, Sarah's panic faded, and she stilled, her fingers trembling as she began tapping them softly against her thigh, finding rhythm in her own heartbeat. Slowly, a hum rose within her, faint but unmistakable, a melody born from her own spirit. She felt a surge of joy, realizing that the silence couldn't take away her connection to music—she was her own source. With that, she passed the test, her eyes opening to the familiar sights and sounds of reality.
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Each of them had faced their deepest fears, and emerged transformed.
Vas stepped forward, a small smile playing on his lips as he looked over the group. "You've all shown resilience and grit today," he said, altough with coldness evident in his voice. "Rest for a while. You'll need it." He gave them a nod, his gaze lingering with a hint of curiosity.
As the group settled down, Vas stepped back, catching a familiar shimmer out of the corner of his eye. Morrigan's voice echoed in his mind. "It's time, Vas. I'll need to take physical form to explain what lies ahead. Be ready."
Within moments, a faint light began to coalesce behind the ancient oak tree, its branches casting long shadows over the group as the shape of a woman slowly emerged. She stepped out from behind the tree, her every movement fluid, almost ethereal. She wore a gown that seemed woven from the threads of time itself, shifting hues with every step, and her expression held a wisdom that seemed both gentle and severe. The silence was tangible, an unspoken reverence for her presence settling over the group.
Morrigan spoke, her voice rich and commanding as it filled the clearing. "I am Trismegistus," she said, her gaze intense as it swept over each of them. "The guiding force of the path you are about to walk." She paused, allowing her words to sink in before continuing. "This gathering has a purpose beyond what any of you have yet seen. We are here to seek out, gather, and protect knowledge, particularly the kind that lurks in the shadows and is rarely understood."
Lewis, still catching his breath from the day's trials, raised an eyebrow. "And what's in it for us?" His tone was skeptical, a hint of challenge woven into his question.
Morrigan's gaze hardened, a steely edge to her voice as she replied. "You misunderstand, Lewis. The reasons behind this endeavor are not for you to question. You are here because you are chosen, because in joining, you will step beyond human limitations. The power you seek, the abilities you desire—these lie at the heart of what this group will uncover."
Her words hung heavily, the weight of her unspoken warning settling over the group. Nyra, ever the strategist, broke the silence. "If we're in this, how will we be organized? What are our roles?"
Morrigan inclined her head approvingly. "Our structure is simple but purposeful. Thirteen High Seats will form the core of this alliance, those entrusted with our most dangerous secrets and highest responsibilities. Beneath you will be the Shaded Circle—a group of close allies who understand our mission and aid us in reaching it. Lastly, there is the Umbral Collective, agents who work in the shadows, unaware of the full scope of our mission but still essential to our purpose."
The group exchanged glances, the importance of the arrangement settling over them. Trismegistus continued, her voice filled with a quiet power. "The name of our order shall be The Scriptorum Arcanum."
A murmur rippled through the group, a mix of curiosity and trepidation. Satisfied, Morrigan paused, her piercing gaze sweeping over each of them. "Do you accept this mantle? Once you agree, there will be no turning back."
They each nodded, some with conviction, others with hesitation. But each nod was a commitment. With a final, acknowledging look, Morrigan continued.
"As members of The Scriptorum Arcanum, each of you will bear a title—a symbol of the role you are to embody within this order." She looked to Vas first, the slightest hint of a smile in her eyes.