The fog crept tighter in, like something was inviting it, coiling and twisting around all, everything. Ethan's breathing was sharp and shallow bursts and fingers trembled on the piece. He could feel that presence still-the unseen thing, watching, analyzing judging all of them. It seemed his mind stretched tight to its limits.
Amara stepped forward, eyes narrowing in anticipation of another round. Her breathing was steady but her shoulders tensed as if she were preparing for a surprise attack. Ethan felt her thoughts in her body—that is, *stay calm, stay focused.* But calm is something neither of them had time to afford.
The voice lingered a moment longer before cutting through the air once more, sharp, metallic, and commanding.
"You should not have come," it said, as if repeating itself for emphasis.
Ethan looked at Amara, his voice uncertain. "What does it mean? Shouldn't have come where? To the gates? To this place?"
Amara's hand shot up again, one gesture to tell him to keep quiet. Her eyes were fixed on the fog now, sharp and intent, scouring the air for any sign of movement, any clue.
"What cost?" Ethan asked silently, his voice barely audible. His heart was still thudding in his chest, the pressure building with each passing second.
The voice came again, its tone impossibly calm, yet full of weight:
"Knowledge has a cost. You will learn the price if you step through the gates."
The words hung in the air like a promise and a threat all at once. Ethan felt the tension in his muscles, the pull in his gut, as though his body were struggling to come to terms with the revelation. *The gates.* That's what they'd come here for, hadn't it? Or at least, so they had thought. Now the fog felt colder, the mist more alive, and every decision they had ever made crushed down upon him. "What gates?" Ethan had to ask, his voice quivering.
There was a silence as if weighing the answer, playing with him, and he felt his nerves unravel.
"You will find out soon enough," the voice said, cold and detached.
And with that, it fell silent once again.
Ethan clutched his weapon tighter, his body stiff. "What the hell is this?" he whispered.
Amara did not respond at first. She appeared to digest the voice's words, her stare remaining focused on the mist. And then finally, she turned toward Ethan, low and stern.
"This is no journey, Ethan," she said. "These gates. these aren't just gateways into another world. They are a conduit between worlds, paths, realities, but they're *alive*."
He furrowed his brow. "Alive? How can something like that be alive?"
Amara let out a deep sigh, moving forward as she spoke in a voice that had worn out with experience and fatigue. "The gates are not just something physical. They hold memories, ancient knowledge, and the will of things that predate our understanding. When you enter them, you're stepping into the unknown. Every choice you make when you pass through these gates carries consequences."
The words slammed into Ethan like a cold wave. The implications were enormous, almost too much to fathom. His mind reeled as the words ran over themselves again. *Knowledge has a cost.* What kind of cost might they incur?
"Do you believe in the voice?" Ethan asked, turning to Amara.
Amara paused, her gaze shifting once more to the fog. She seemed to take great pains over the forming of her response.
"It's testing us," she said finally. "Or at least, it was. It wants to know how far we're willing to go, how far we're willing to risk it all."
She had enough sense now to hide her fear in her voice, though Ethan could feel it. He felt the same unease himself, though.
"So what now? Do we keep going?" he asked, his voice uncertain.
Amara looked at him and hesitated once more, furrowing her brow. "I think we have no choice but to keep going," she said. Her voice was steady, though Ethan sensed her hesitation.
"But at what cost?" Ethan asked, his voice breaking.
Her eyes fell on him. "Only time will tell." She motioned with her hand toward the mist, toward the path to come. "We have to move forward. We can't go back now. Who knows what would be waiting for us if we do?"
Words slid chill down the spine of Ethan, and his gut screamed loudly about needing to run, retreat back, out of this icy mist and this strange fate into which they were being delivered. Yet his mind stayed troubled, restless, curious-he couldn't help the need to ponder the unknown or some unspoken secrets buried in forgotten knowledge in ancient gates.
"Alright," he finally said, trying to sound steady, though he could feel his knees shaking. "Let's go."
They went on, step by slow step, as the mist thickened into a fog that became so dense it swallowed them up into a disquieting kind of silence. Their footfall broke the stillness over the uneven ground. The air grew colder and its edge sharper. Ethan could not shake the feeling that other people's eyes watched through the darkness.
She stayed beside him, her gun at the ready, every move calculated, careful, and deliberate. She was impassive to the cold of it or the silent path ahead, but Ethan could feel tension just beneath her skin.
With each stride he took, there was time after time his wandering mind gave vent to the remembrance of that voice-its words, its threat of price and consequence. What truth, he wondered as he gazed up ahead, could lie beyond these gates? What would they be given once through the mist-like veil of this mysterious thing?
Sound came easily from under their feet-only it felt much louder than it needed to be. Ethan's hands shook through his gloves, his breathing quickening. What had brought them here? The thought would have been more easily suppressed in his head, but as it is, it continues to chafe at his awareness.
They could not retreat.
The path went on into nothingness, each step bringing them closer to what lay in front of them. They were to face the gates, the voice, and everything in between. And they'd learn what *knowledge* really cost.
They walked on.
The mist engulfed them.