You throw yourself around the corner, darting towards the creature. A pale, high-cheekboned face, topped with neat auburn hair, rises to look at you. There's no surprise in its expression: the creature's white, pupilless eyes don't so much as widen.
Even faced with this total lack of surprise, you don't stop, instead still charging forward, desperate to reach the being standing between you and the door. Your hands reach forward, trying to grab hold of it, to pull it down to the ground where you can contain it, but instead, long, pale fingers interlock themselves with yours, gripping your hands tight—far tighter than human strength could ever allow.
Still, you push forward, trying to force the being holding you back to break his grip. Your finger joints are screaming in response, but you hang on, staring into the white eyes that gaze, utterly calm, back at you.
"Enough."
With a suddenness that almost sends you stumbling forward, your hands are released, the chalk-white fingers slipping from between yours. You stare up at the creature as it regards you, utterly bewildered.
"Enough?" you ask, breathing heavily.
The being nods. "A standard test," it says through lips that remain closed. "There are many ways to judge a supplicant, but what matters is that they are worthy. Your strength was…sufficient, and you may pass through."
You're still struggling to regain your breath, but you manage to speak to the creature, who has turned to face the door.
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