Jessica hesitated as she stepped onto the first stair. The staircase spiraled upwards, a slow and steady climb that seemed to go on forever despite being only about 40 feet high. At the top, she could see a gilded door, which she assumed led to the Raven's quarters. The tower was spacious, about 30 feet across, allowing for a wide, graceful ascent.

The place was impeccably maintained. The marble steps gleamed, recently polished, and the stained glass windows cast rainbows of light that danced around the tower’s interior. She imagined the colors would be even more brilliant earlier in the day, before dusk. The entrance door behind her was made of steel-reinforced oak, a barrier that seemed impossible to breach if locked.

As she lifted her foot to ascend, her vision abruptly darkened. For a moment, she was enveloped in pitch blackness. Flickering images appeared, shadowy figures staring at her—dozens of them, watching intently.

Her foot touched the second step, and reality snapped back. Jessica gasped, her breath caught in her throat. "What was that? Am I losing my mind?" She stared down at her feet, trying to make sense of the sudden vision. Was it a hallucination brought on by stress? Shaking it off, she pressed on, though her heart pounded in her chest.

The moment she lifted her foot again, darkness enveloped her once more. This time, the whispers came—hundreds of voices, their words indecipherable, a cacophony of sound that surrounded her. The shadowy figures from before were now swirling around her, their whispers growing into screams. Panic surged through her, but amidst the chaos, she managed to focus on one voice. As she honed in on it, the other screams faded into the background. The voice was clear, repeating the same phrase over and over: “He chose this one? There were better.”

The words cut deep, stoking a fire within her. Anger rose to the surface.

“He chose this one? There were better,” the voice taunted, relentless.

“He chose this one? There were better,” each time it pressed her nerves, and this was the point where she would end the taunts.

Jessica clenched her fists, her resolve hardening. “I am the best there is,” she shouted into the void, her voice trembling but fierce. “I’ve worked, I’ve fought, and I’ve earned my place.”

The shadowy figure she was addressing seemed to dissolve, the silhouette disintegrating into a warm mist that slipped through her fingers. But the staircase was far from over. Each step brought a new voice, a new challenge.

“No one cares about you. No one will miss you,” one voice hissed.

“I forge my own path,” she shot back, her voice steady. “I need no one’s praise or disdain.”

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Step by step, she ascended, battling the voices that sought to undermine her. “There is no more hope. Your freedom ends now,” another voice jeered.

Jessica’s eyes narrowed as she pressed on. “Freedom is mine to choose. No one has the right to take that from me.”

With every step, she confronted her doubts and fears, refusing to back down. The voices became fewer, weaker, until finally, she faced the last one.

“You have destroyed my brethren. But they were never real,” the final silhouette whispered. “You think you've won, but you still walk toward your doom. Worthiness is something you will never possess.”

This last voice struck a nerve. It felt more real, more personal than the others. Jessica’s rage flared anew. “You do not decide my destiny,” she declared, tearing the shadowy figure apart with her hands. The spirit dissolved into smoke, leaving her in a void of silence.

As she caught her breath, the darkness around her receded, and she realized her feet were still moving, carrying her steadily up the staircase. A new voice, deep and resonant, filled the space: “You have been tested and found worthy. You have overcome the spirits. You have proven yourself stronger than the darkness.”

The voice paused, then continued, “The path you now walk is the same as the Raven’s. Be strong, for war is coming to these lands, and the magic of the Raven will be tested.”

The void faded, and Jessica found herself standing before the gilded door at the top of the staircase. The door was intricately decorated, with painted markings of a raven overseeing the village below. Three words were etched into the wood at the bottom: Faith, Law, Knowledge. The golden lines around the designs seemed to capture and reflect the last rays of daylight. The handle was a smooth piece of ebony, cool to the touch.

Jessica’s mind reeled as she stared at the door. What is happening? she wondered for what felt like the thousandth time that day. I was supposed to be selling flowers, tending to my family. Now I’m here, in this tower, facing... whatever this is.

Her thoughts turned to her siblings and her mother. She had imagined returning home to cook dinner, playing with Xavier until he finally fell asleep after countless assurances of her love. She would have checked on her mother, dimmed the lamps, and written in her journal before bed. Now, all of that seemed impossibly far away.

With a deep breath, she forced herself to focus. There was no turning back now. She rolled up her sleeves, squared her shoulders, and knocked firmly on the door. She was determined to tell the Raven that he could find another bride. Her mother’s health was her only concern.

After a few moments of tense silence, a voice called out from the other side—a voice that was shockingly young. “Hello? Yes, Jessica? If that’s you, please come in.”

Confused, Jessica pushed the door open and stepped inside. To her astonishment, she found herself face-to-face with a boy no older than eighteen, seated at a desk. He was staring out a window that overlooked the meadows she knew so well. It dawned on her that he must have seen her from here every morning as she gathered flowers. A shiver ran down her spine at the thought.

“Welcome,” the boy said, turning to face her with a soft smile. “I’ve been waiting for you.”