The air was damp and cold, mist so thick it clung to every inch of their clothing like an invisible shroud. Ethan shivered as he tried to steady his breath. His hand still gripped his weapon tightly, though the shaking in his fingers wasn't from fear anymore. His mind was racing.
He glanced over at Amara, standing there beside him with her own weapon drawn and at the ready. She wasn't shaking, but her face was tight, her lips set in a firm, no-nonsense line. Ethan could feel her tension; she was trying to project confidence, but it wasn't working.
"I don't like this," he said, his voice low.
Amara did not look at him; she kept her eyes on the misty veil ahead. "You and me both, Ethan," she said, her voice as steady as her stance.
The glowing shapes waited a dozen feet away from them, watching. Ethan didn't know how, but they *knew*. They knew things about him and Amara and what their intention was. And worse still, Ethan couldn't come up with an idea about whether they were there to attack or wait for something to happen.
Amara decided, moving forward, her voice calm but unyielding.
"Who are you? What is this place?"
No response.
Ethan's heart thudded in his neck. "We didn't come here to hurt anyone. We're lost… seeking answers."
Nothing. His words seemed to be swallowed up by the mist.
And then, a voice.
It just seemed to come out of nowhere—soft, mechanical, but so clear that it made Ethan jump. His shoulders tensed. Amara went rigid beside him.
"I hear you," the voice said, as if it were reading his mind, not just responding to his words.
Ethan felt his throat close. His mind was a blur. "Wait. Who said that?"
The voice came again, unrepentant.
"I am the observer," it said, and its tone sent a chill through Ethan's bones.
Amara lowered her weapon slightly, though her eyes narrowed. "The observer?" she repeated. "What do you mean by that?"
The voice came again, slow and deliberate:
"I watch, but I do not interfere. You have entered the gates."
The words hung in the mist, their weight pressing into Ethan's chest. "The gates? What gates?" Ethan asked, his voice shaking despite his best effort to stay calm.
The voice continued. "The gates connect worlds, timelines, fates. Many come through, but few understand their purpose. You've passed through these gates, and now you stand on the threshold."
Amara breathed. Ethan could feel the tension in her shoulders, a faint shiver in her hands as she devoured the words spewing forth from that voice. "What does it mean?" she asked, a sharpness to her voice that had been tempered with an undercurrent of hesitation there as well.
"It means you have choices," the voice said, matter-of-fact. "Knowledge is always a cost. Power has its price. This is your choice now: return to the unknown path, or step deeper into the truth."
The air grew colder as the words settled over them. Ethan looked at Amara. His throat was dry. He didn't like this-whatever this observer was, it wasn't offering hope, nor was it offering clarity. It felt distant and ancient, its intentions buried in riddles.
"What's on the other side of the gates?" Ethan found himself asking, his voice sharper this time.
The mist seemed to shift, the voice growing more menacing in its undertone.
"All that you seek," it said. "And all that you fear."
The words stung. Ethan clenched his fists, fighting to quell the nervousness building up within him. His entire body was tight with anxiety. He could feel Amara's gaze on him as if she were trying to read his thoughts.
Before either of them could react, the figures in the mist shifted just the tiniest bit. Ethan tensed up again, his heart racing wildly. Amara was high alert once more, weapon at hand once more.
The air felt alive now, a presence in front of them pressing in on them from all sides.
"Why do you watch us?" Amara demanded suddenly, her voice fierce.
The mist didn't answer. Ethan felt his own breathing. He could feel Amara beside him, firm and steady even as uncertainty drew near.
"Answer us!" she screamed this time.
The voice came again.
"Because you must choose."
Ethan's breath caught. He felt as if he could nearly reach out and touch that pressure-the words seemed pressing into his chest. All the moments here felt like a series of choices he hadn't prepared for - uncertain paths, uncertain answers, and that crushing pressure of fate.
"Decide *what*?"
Ethan asked, the voice shaking.
The voice lingered for a second, as if it deliberated whether or not to say something.
"To walk the path you find most suitable, to uncover the truths you desire. But every choice has its consequences."
Ethan curled his lip. Frustration built up. "And if we choose wrong?"
The voice hesitated. Ethan was almost sure he could feel it hesitate.
"The path will take you where you fear most," it said finally.
The words echoed out, cold and final. The mist around them seemed to close in tighter. Ethan felt his stomach twist. He glanced at Amara, whose face was unreadable, every emotion locked away beneath her sharp features.
"We'll find our way," Amara said after a moment, her voice steady, resolute. She turned back toward the mist. "We always do."
Ethan wanted to collect a similar confidence. A glimmer of understanding could be had there, yet it so felt far off. The mist, gates, the singularity- a living puzzle-this all felt that way, as if one piece at time was the best way it could be assembled.
They walked forward in solitude, being alone with their self, surrounded by the mist.