He stood poised at the threshold of a stone bridge, its path stretching forth into an expansive flatland. Far beyond, a radiant beam of light beckoned like a tantalizing prize atop a treacherous staircase. The darkness enveloped both sides of the bridge, veiling the secrets hidden beneath. Faint echoes, ominous and unintelligible, reverberated in the distance, reaching his ears.
Now, he found himself suspended in the middle of that very stone bridge, compelled to steal a backward glance. The path he had traversed appeared distant, almost otherworldly. The elusive light ahead remained at an unyielding distance, unaltered by his progress. How many strides had he taken? How much time had slipped away during his journey? Time had eluded him, slipping through his fingers like sand.
"Forge onward," a voice whispered, barely audible yet full of significance. "Does this not align with the creed of your very existence, Brad?"
He raised his gaze, his eyes fixed upon the path that lay ahead. And there, standing resolutely before him, was his friend Maleckhie.
"Are you standing firm, unwavering?" Brad inquired, his voice laced with disbelief.
"Why does my stance surprise you, Brad?" responded the young man, his raven tresses framing piercing azure eyes, donned in the resplendent attire of the sacred knighthood.
"The last time I laid eyes upon you, Maleckhie, you were confined to a wheelchair. We stood amidst the ethereal enchantment of the Misty Grove. And then..."
"Then, a piercing shriek rent the air. We raced towards its source. But I, dear Brad, was never bound to a wheelchair. Has your sanity faltered?"
Brad's hand moved to caress his weary countenance, seeking comprehension amidst the labyrinthine haze. "I know not. The realms of my perception have been awry these recent days. My mind must have woven illusions," he murmured, his gaze penetrating the depths of his comrade's being.
Maleckhie's astral essence radiated a scintillating luminosity, casting a brilliant radiance that overwhelmed Brad's sight, leaving him momentarily blinded.
Brad queried in a hushed tone, "Pray tell, Maleckhie, do you comprehend your presence in this place?"
The young man turned, his countenance serious, and pointed towards the radiant beam of light. "Ever since the fateful day when I succumbed amidst the clash with the ethereal specters, I have been confined here. Fret not, dear comrade, for I fare well. I am but a guardian of the Luminous Portal, biding my time," he proclaimed with a touch of pride gleaming in his azure eyes.
"I believe it is my path to tread," Brad declared.
Maleckhie took a measured step back, assuming a resolute posture. "I cannot grant you passage, my loyal friend," he asserted with unwavering resolve.
"Maleckhie, I implore you, I must escape this realm," Brad protested, yet he hesitated to confront his stalwart companion. His physical strength waned, leaving him barely able to maintain his stance.
"Brad, have you cast your gaze upon the looking glass?" Maleckhie queried.
"Do I appear as one who has done so?" Brad retorted, his tone laced with skepticism.
"Brad, I beseech you, gaze upon your own reflection," Maleckhie insisted, and in an instant, a grand mirror materialized betwixt the two, extending from floor to ceiling.
Brad stood in silence, his gaze fixed upon his reflection in the mystical mirror. His locks of hair and his once-trimmed beard had become a chaotic tangle. The pristine white fabric of his linen shirt lay in tatters, unable to conceal the intricate runes etched upon his chest, visage, neck, and arms. Every exposed inch of his flesh bore the enigmatic markings, pulsating with a life of their own. They coiled and twisted, captivating his gaze. The valiant knight, confronted with an unprecedented terror, found himself petrified, unable to move. In an instant, the mirror vanished without a trace.
"Brad, you have been marked," Maleckhie pronounced, his voice heavy with sorrow. "You must retrace your steps and confront this dire predicament."
"I cannot turn back," Brad responded, his voice quivering with trepidation.
Once again, he cast a forlorn glance behind him. The passage he had traversed appeared distant, barely discernible as a mere speck. He ran his fingers through his disheveled, oil-laden locks in a futile attempt to regain composure. His gaze fell upon his hands, now stained with crimson. "I am ensnared in a trap," he uttered with hopeless resignation.
"Absurdity has no place here, Brad. No force can confine you. It was your valiant intervention that rescued us from those abominable phantoms haunting that manor. Both I and Christine owe our lives to you. Without your presence, our existence would be but a fading ember."
"Christine?" Brad interjected, his memory veiled in uncertainty.
"Yes, does the recollection of the little girl elude you?"
"Dimly," Brad confessed, his thoughts entangled.
"Your mind is entwined in chaos, an affliction I perceive. Now, I beseech you, Brad, to grant me a favor."
"What would that be?" Brad sought clarification.
"When the veil of slumber lifts, seek out Christine. Her extraordinary aptitude enables her to discern ethereal beings that transgress this plane. The entity that relentlessly pursues you hails from realms beyond. I have seen its presence."
"Understood," Brad murmured, his gaze shifting fleetingly towards the direction that held Maleckhie's unwavering attention.
"Moreover, I implore you, Brad, until you vanquish this entity, abstain from revisiting this realm. Alas, it is here that your vigor wanes most grievously," Maleckhie cautioned, his smile conveying heartfelt concern.
Brad nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation.
"Now, depart," Maleckhie commanded, approaching Brad with measured steps.
"And where shall I venture?" Brad inquired.
"I apologize, for your capacity to choose appears compromised. Shall I assume this responsibility on your behalf?" Maleckhie posed the question.
Brad nodded assent, relinquishing the burden of decision.
"We shall reunite," Maleckhie pledged, embracing his longstanding comrade with an ardent embrace.
And in an unforeseen instant, Maleckhie propelled Brad towards the abyss that yawned, seemingly bottomless, awaiting his descent.