In that gloom, the mist felt something of like icy hand pushed against the flesh of Ethan as they continued marching forward amidst the heavy fog. His strides felt weightier, he had the impression that uncertainty bore down upon him. Nothing could ever make Ethan be free from the feeling of the air itself being sentient, twisting and shifting within their perception, watching their every step, analyzing one move after another.
Amara moved beside him with calculated precision, her gaze sharp and steady, her weapon ready, but even she wasn't immune to the cold and eerie presence that seemed to linger in every breath they took. Her brow furrowed and her shoulders tensed with every step, as though she were fighting some unseen force.
There, spread out before him, the dirt yielded to rock, studded with clots of grass striving to reach above the frozen, hostile earth. His footsteps were shockingly loud against the stillness of the fog. It hurt Ethan to steady his breath, to calm down, but the more he thought of the gates, that voice, and those almost indecipherable words, the faster his heart kept on racing.
He was not the only one who felt so. Amara sat right in front of him, her voice just above a whisper, lost in thought. "We can expect resistance," she said out of the blue.
Ethan shot her a sidelong glance, his voice circumspect. "Resistance? What kind of resistance?"
She said nothing, but the moment grew long enough. Her eyes continued to be trained down the path, but now her words came in a quiet whisper. "The testing kind."
This sent another shiver into his chest. His heart ran faster as if some intangible strain was building up in an invisible pressure. Resistance. Trials. Were they in something of a trap? Had they already been surveyed, and judged by whatever ominous presence haunted those roads? His thoughts brought him back to another look at her. The sentence came out slightly trembling as "What do you mean, by that?"
Amara took a sharp breath, looking at him for a moment. The voice was still. But words weighed heavy. "The gates will try to find your weaknesses, Ethan. They'll exploit your fears, your doubts. Be ready for that."
Ethan could feel the turn of his stomach now. He could remember the voice to the cryptic words as it spoke at the threshold; "Knowledge has a cost." What would this price be? How much or what kind of test and cost lay in store for them?
He rubbed his hand against his jacket in an attempt to feel the warmth, but it did him little good. His body was brittle and fragile, a collection of cold, damp materials, and his mind was off racing, but the mist caught every coherent thought that took hold.
"Keypress sharp," Amara told him, shoving herself into his thoughts. "Fog hides more than pathways. Pay attention to every sound, every motion. The veil's alive."
Her words were sending another shiver through him. The veil. He could almost hear it now, a whispering sound, a subtle movement like breath or wind, though there was no wind. Ethan thought of the voice, the unseen presence, and the ominous warning: *You should not have come.*
They kept going, step by step, breaths quickening, steps crunching over uneven terrain. Ethan had no idea how much time had passed. Minutes? Hours? Time seemed impossible to measure through the fog. He could hear nothing but his own breathing, the sound of his heart pounding, and the faint shifting of Amara's movements beside him.
And then, suddenly, the path began to change.
It started slowly, almost imperceptible—a gentle slope, a change in the air, a new, deeper presence, but Ethan saw it soon enough. A faint glow just perceptible appeared in the fog. His pulse quickened, and his body tensed.
"What is that?" he asked sharply.
Amara raised her hand to stop him, her eyes narrowed, her weapon ready. "Stay calm," she whispered. "Stay alert."
The light grew brighter as they pulled him forward, some irresistible force. Ethan's breathing speeded up, his heart pounding as they reached the light that defined and took on shapes: a faint, glowing outline, a doorway forming out of the mist.
"That's the gate?" he whispered.
Amara said nothing. She crept forward, took a few steps, and brought up her gun as the glow grew brighter. It seemed hotter here, almost like the presence of something living was starting to take on an existence.
The glow pulsed, and for a moment, Ethan thought he could hear something. Not a voice, but a kind of hum—resonating in his bones, tugging at his thoughts. His breath hitched.
The mist swirled and suddenly the glow had grown. It was no longer faint, but vivid now, like fire does in the cold. Ethan's hand clenched down on his weapon, the skin of his knuckles gone white.
And there, clear and unmistakable: a shimmering gateway that stood in the fog half-solid, half-illusion.
It was lovely on its own lines—those of golden energy danced within its middle, twisting and rolling along to almost hypnotic beat. The edges shimmered with an air of liquid metal and living, and thrill coursed down Ethan's skin as he felt himself grow short of breath. And for a moment there was nothing he could look at.
"Is that it?" he whispered quietly.
Amara was sitting there beside him, her voice, steady, almost mechanical in its calmness. "This is the first step. You ready for this?"
Ethan felt the weight of her words, the implication, and his heart tried to escape from his ribcage. He heard that voice from earlier echoing in his mind - *knowledge comes with a cost.* But what would they do if they crossed over? What was on the other side of that shimmering veil?
He looked at Amara, trying to draw strength from her face, but hers was a mask, features set as she stared at the bright glow of the doorway.
"Ready as I'll ever be," he said, his voice steadying.
Amara nodded once and gestured toward the gate.
"Then let's go."
They stepped forward, breathing shallowly, their hands steady. Ethan felt the pull, the energy of the gate, as if it were alive and welcoming them. His body felt oddly weightless for an instant as they stepped across the threshold, and then— The world shifted.