Walking along the pulsating path, Melania felt each of her steps resonate in the silence around her. It seemed as if the shadows themselves were watching her intently, listening to her breath, studying her every movement. The darkness no longer seemed empty—she could sense something invisible moving nearby, like spiders weaving their intricate webs.
Finally, the path led her to a massive arch, entwined with patterns resembling spiderwebs. Its surface shimmered with silvery light, and the longer Melania stared at it, the more it seemed that the web was alive, gently shifting as if breathing.
— “Enter,” came the same voice, quieter now but still full of authority.
Melania stopped, gazing at the arch. Beyond it lay a transparent yet chilling darkness. As she stepped forward, a feeling of pressure tightened in her chest, forcing her to hold her breath. She moved inside.
The darkness enveloped her but lasted only a moment. Suddenly, a new world opened before her—a vast hall, its walls covered with silvery webs. They gleamed softly, illuminating the space around her. At the center stood a throne made of interwoven silvery threads, which flickered and faded as if absorbing the light.
On the throne sat a figure—tall and graceful, their face concealed by a mask of thin metal resembling the visage of a spirit. Their hands rested calmly on the throne’s armrests, and their long hair, like mist, cascaded down, blending into the webbing.
— “Welcome, seeker,” the figure spoke, their voice multifaceted, as if hundreds of different tones had merged into one. — “You have come further than many others. But are you ready to face what lies ahead?”
— “I am ready,” Melania replied firmly, though her heart was pounding in her chest.
— “In this place, truth is never simple,” the figure continued, gesturing toward the shimmering web hanging from the ceiling, forming intricate patterns. — “This web is a reflection of destiny. Each thread is a choice; each knot is a consequence. And today, you must decide which thread you will touch.”
— “What will happen if I choose wrong?”
— “There is no right or wrong here. There is only choice and its price. The thread you choose will connect you to what you seek, but it will also bind you to what you fear.”
Melania stepped closer to the web. It trembled, as if anticipating her touch. She saw scenes on its surface that resembled memories, though she could not tell whose they were. On one thread flashed the image of a battlefield, where she stood among fallen comrades. On another, the vision of her mother holding an ancient pendant, though her face was obscured. Yet another thread showed a tower, where a man sat on a throne wearing a mask like the one before her now.
— “Can I see everything before I choose?” she asked, trying to suppress her anxiety.
— “No,” the figure replied, their voice stern. — “You must trust your intuition. Here, you will not find answers, only new questions.”
Melania closed her eyes, trying to sense which thread resonated with her. The silence felt endless. Her hand reached for one of the threads, and as her fingers touched it, the web blazed with bright white light.
Suddenly, a new vision unfolded before her eyes: a towering gate surrounded by shadows, beyond which lay a world of ruins and fire. At the center of this chaos stood a figure clad in a black cloak, wielding a fiery sword.
— “You have chosen a path that will lead you to truth but also to pain,” the figure’s voice echoed. — “Remember, truth is rarely merciful.”
The web began to swirl again, and Melania felt herself being pulled forward, deeper into the hall. The shadow on the throne spoke no more, but she knew: this choice was only the beginning of a new trial.