The golden light enveloped Rollan and his companions, carrying them forward with a sensation that was neither movement nor stillness. It was as if the world around them had ceased to exist, replaced by the shimmering glow and the faint, resonant hum of the shard's energy. Time stretched and twisted, and Rollan couldn't tell if they had been traveling for seconds or years when the light began to fade.
When they emerged, they found themselves standing on the edge of an enormous expanse. The ground beneath them was a smooth, obsidian-like surface, reflecting faint patterns of light that pulsed and rippled outward in infinite directions. Above them, the sky—or what passed for one—was an endless swirl of colors, constantly shifting and merging in patterns that defied understanding.
At the heart of the expanse stood a towering structure. It was unlike the shard they had faced before—this one was smooth, polished, and seamless, rising into the swirling void like a needle piercing the heavens. It radiated a strange, rhythmic pulse, each vibration sending ripples through the obsidian floor.
Rollan stepped forward cautiously, his claws clicking softly against the reflective ground. His antennae twitched as he scanned the expanse, searching for any sign of movement.
"This… doesn't feel real," Tella whispered, her small form quivering as she scurried closer to Rollan.
"It's real," Rollan said, though he wasn't sure he believed it. "Stay close. We don't know what's waiting for us."
The group moved as one, their tight formation a silent testament to the bond they had forged. Calyx led her disciplined line of ants, their movements precise and deliberate. Brack lumbered at the rear, his massive frame a reassuring presence. The spiders skittered along the edges, their silk glinting faintly as they spun thin threads that vanished into the shimmering void.
As they approached the structure, the air grew heavier, charged with a presence that was both overwhelming and intangible. Rollan felt it pressing against him, not physically, but mentally—an invisible force that seemed to probe the edges of his thoughts, testing, searching.
"We're being watched," Calyx said, her voice tight.
"I know," Rollan replied. He took a deep breath, steadying himself as they reached the base of the structure.
The surface of the tower shimmered faintly, its polished exterior reflecting the swirling patterns of the void. At its center was an opening—an arched doorway filled with soft, golden light. Rollan hesitated, his claws gripping the ground as he studied the entrance.
"Do we go in?" Brack rumbled, his deep voice breaking the silence.
"We have to," Rollan said. "This is why we came here."
Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward, his antennae quivering as he crossed the threshold. The light surrounded him instantly, filling his vision and blocking out the world behind him. For a moment, he felt weightless, as if he had been untethered from his body.
And then he was inside.
The Hall of Reflections
The chamber within the structure was vast and featureless, its walls made of the same reflective material as the floor outside. The light here was softer, more diffuse, casting faint shadows that seemed to shift and writhe like living things. Rollan's reflection stared back at him from every surface, multiplied endlessly in a dizzying array of angles and perspectives.
The others stepped through the doorway behind him, their movements hesitant. Their reflections joined his, creating a kaleidoscope of shifting forms that seemed to stretch into infinity.
"What is this place?" Tella asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know," Rollan admitted. He took a cautious step forward, his claws clicking against the polished floor. The sound echoed strangely, as if the chamber itself was alive, listening.
As they moved deeper into the chamber, the reflections began to change. At first, they were subtle—slight distortions in the way the light caught their exoskeletons. But as they continued, the differences grew more pronounced. Rollan's reflection no longer moved in perfect sync with him; it lagged behind, then sped ahead, its antennae twitching in ways that didn't match his own.
"Something's wrong," Calyx said, her antennae quivering. She stopped, turning to face one of her reflections. "It's not me."
The others began to notice the same. Their reflections twisted and shifted, their movements no longer their own. Tella's tiny form fractured into a dozen distorted versions, each one darting in a different direction. Brack's reflection loomed larger than life, its shell cracked and jagged, its eyes glowing with an unnatural light.
"This… this isn't real," Tella stammered, backing away from the nearest wall.
"It's a test," Rollan said, his voice firm. "The shard's trial was physical. This one is… something else."
The reflections grew more chaotic, their distortions intensifying until they no longer resembled the group at all. Rollan's reflection began to change shape, its segmented body stretching and twisting into a towering, grotesque form. Its eyes glowed with a cold, merciless light, and its antennae writhed like serpents.
"You can't lead them," the reflection said, its voice a distorted echo of Rollan's own. "You've failed before. You'll fail again."
Rollan froze, his claws digging into the polished floor. The reflection's words struck a chord deep within him, stirring memories he had tried to bury. The moments of doubt, the times he had hesitated, the companions he had lost along the way.
"You're wrong," Rollan said, though his voice wavered. "We've survived because we've stood together."
"Have you?" the reflection sneered. "Or have they survived despite you?"
Rollan turned away, his antennae trembling. He didn't want to face it, didn't want to confront the possibility that the reflection might be right. But the chamber offered no escape. Every surface reflected the distorted version of himself, a constant reminder of his doubts.
The others were facing their own trials. Tella's reflections surrounded her, each one whispering fears and doubts that she couldn't block out. Calyx's disciplined formation of ants shattered into chaos, her reflections accusing her of leading them to ruin. Brack's towering reflection loomed over him, its voice a rumbling growl that questioned his strength.
"We have to keep moving," Rollan said, forcing himself to speak. "This isn't real. It's trying to break us."
But as he stepped forward, the ground beneath him shifted. The chamber rippled, and the reflections dissolved into shimmering light. The group found themselves standing in a new space—smaller, more confined. At its center was a single pedestal, its surface smooth and dark.
"What now?" Brack asked, his deep voice laced with frustration.
Rollan approached the pedestal cautiously. As he neared, the surface began to glow, its light forming a familiar shape—a map, similar to the one they had seen before, but more intricate, more complete.
"It's showing us the way forward," Rollan said. He reached out to touch the map, but as his claw made contact, the light flared, and a voice filled the chamber.
"Forward?" the voice said, its tone cold and mocking. "There is no forward. There is no beyond. There is only the cycle."
Rollan froze. The voice was not his own, but it felt familiar, like an echo of a memory he couldn't quite grasp.
"The cycle repeats," the voice continued. "You leave the shell. You seek the beyond. And you return to the beginning."
The chamber began to ripple, the walls shimmering as new reflections appeared. These were not of Rollan or his companions—they were of others. Countless creatures, each one stepping through the same doorway, facing the same trials, and reaching the same pedestal.
"What… what is this?" Tella whispered, her voice trembling.
"It's us," Rollan said, his antennae quivering. "But not just us. Others. Hundreds of others."
The reflections shifted again, showing scenes that made Rollan's claws tremble. The creatures in the reflections reached the pedestal, touched the map, and dissolved into light. And then they reappeared, back at the beginning, their journey starting anew.
"It's a loop," Rollan said, his voice hollow. "We're trapped."
The voice returned, its tone colder now. "There is no escape. The beyond is not freedom. It is the prison."
Rollan staggered back, his mind racing. Everything they had faced, every trial they had overcome—it had all been for nothing. The beyond was not a destination. It was a cycle, an endless loop that fed on their hope and resilience.
"No," he said, his voice firm. "This isn't the end. There has to be more."
The light on the pedestal flickered, and the voice grew softer. "Perhaps. But only for those willing to break the cycle."
"How?" Rollan demanded. "How do we break it?"
The chamber fell silent, the reflections fading until only the pedestal remained. Rollan turned to his companions, their faces filled with fear and uncertainty.
"We've come too far to stop now," he said. "If there's a way to break the cycle, we'll find it. Together."
The pedestal began to glow again, its light forming a new pathway that stretched into the swirling void beyond. Rollan stepped forward, his resolve unshaken.
This wasn't the end.
It was just the beginning.