Chapter 3: Into the Spiral
Quintin followed Seraphine reluctantly, his eyes darting nervously at every flicker and shift in the strange, chaotic realm around him. The tower she had pointed to loomed in the distance, impossibly vast and twisting, as though it were both far away and right in front of them at the same time. He couldn't tell if the structure was pulling him toward it or if he was walking into its gravitational pull.
"So," Quintin said, breaking the oppressive silence as he tried to calm the knot in his chest, "you've done this before? You know, surviving eldritch horrors and unraveling reality?"
Seraphine glanced back at him, her violet eyes gleaming. "Enough times to stop asking stupid questions like that."
"Right," Quintin muttered, rolling his eyes. "Good talk."
The path—or what he assumed was a path—was made up of shimmering, jagged platforms that seemed to vanish the moment they stepped off them. Behind them, the world collapsed into a swirling abyss of lights and shadows, an ever-shifting void that seemed eager to consume everything.
"Step where I step," Seraphine instructed, her tone clipped. "The Nexus doesn't forgive clumsiness."
"I can see that," Quintin replied, nearly slipping on one of the platforms. The jagged edge disintegrated under his boot, and for a brief, horrifying moment, he felt the pull of the abyss clawing at him. Seraphine grabbed his arm, yanking him back onto solid—or relatively solid—ground.
"Focus," she snapped, her grip firm. "If you fall, I'm not diving in after you."
"Noted," Quintin said, his heart pounding. He straightened himself and followed her more carefully, though the oppressive, alien nature of their surroundings made it hard to concentrate.
As they moved closer to the spiraling tower, Quintin couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched. He glanced around nervously, but all he saw were faint, flickering shapes in the distance—shadows that seemed to stretch and move in ways that defied logic.
"Hey," he said quietly, trying to keep his voice steady. "Are those things… alive?"
Seraphine didn't stop walking. "Yes."
"Are they dangerous?"
"Probably."
Quintin swallowed hard, deciding not to ask any more questions for now. He focused on putting one foot in front of the other, keeping as close to Seraphine as he dared without stepping on her heels.
Finally, they reached the base of the spiraling tower. Up close, it was even more overwhelming. The black stone seemed to writhe and pulse, as though it were alive. Strange, glowing symbols ran along its surface, shifting and rearranging themselves constantly. Quintin felt his head throb just looking at them.
Seraphine placed a hand on the tower's surface, her expression unreadable. "The Spiral Tower," she said softly. "A doorway. A trap. A trial."
"Not exactly comforting," Quintin muttered, staring up at the impossible structure. "What happens if we go inside?"
"That depends," Seraphine replied, her voice distant. "The tower reflects your mind. Your fears. Your desires. It tests you. If you fail, it consumes you."
Quintin blinked. "And if we pass?"
She turned to him, a faint smirk playing at her lips. "Then we get to live. For now."
"Fantastic," he said dryly. "So, just to be clear, there's no plan, no map, no way of knowing if we'll make it out of here alive."
"Now you're catching on." Seraphine placed her other hand on the tower, and the glowing symbols flared brightly, casting eerie shadows across her face. The air around them seemed to hum with anticipation, vibrating in a way that made Quintin's teeth ache.
The tower's surface rippled like water, and Seraphine stepped through without hesitation. Quintin hesitated, staring at the undulating surface.
"Well," he muttered to himself, "this is either the bravest thing I've ever done or the dumbest."
He stepped forward, the surface of the tower swallowing him whole. For a moment, there was nothing but darkness—a deep, suffocating void that pressed against him from all sides. Then, the world snapped back into focus.
He was standing in a corridor that seemed to stretch infinitely in both directions. The walls were made of the same black stone as the tower's exterior, and the glowing symbols were everywhere, shifting and pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
Seraphine was a few steps ahead, already moving forward. Quintin hurried to catch up, his footsteps echoing unnervingly in the silent corridor.
"Any tips for surviving this 'trial'?" he asked, his voice low.
"Don't lose your mind," she said without looking back.
"Helpful," Quintin said, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
As they moved deeper into the tower, the symbols on the walls began to shift more violently, their light flickering like a dying star. The air grew colder, and Quintin felt a strange pressure building in his chest, as though the tower were pressing down on him, testing him.
The corridor abruptly opened into a vast chamber, and Quintin froze. The room was filled with mirrors—hundreds, maybe thousands of them, arranged in a circular pattern. Each mirror reflected not just his image, but something… wrong. His reflections were distorted, their faces twisted in ways that didn't make sense. Some of them had too many eyes. Others had no eyes at all. One of them smiled at him, even though he wasn't smiling.
"What the hell is this?" he whispered, his voice trembling.
"The Mirror Room," Seraphine said, stepping into the chamber without hesitation. "It's the first trial."
"What are we supposed to do?" Quintin asked, staying close to the entrance.
Seraphine turned to him, her expression deadly serious. "Survive."
Before Quintin could ask what she meant, the mirrors began to shift. His reflections stepped out of the glass, their distorted forms twisting and cracking as they moved toward him.
End of Chapter 3.