The fortress towered before Jason and Finn, a monolithic structure of dark stone that seemed to hum with an ancient, malevolent energy. Jason could feel its pull, an invisible force beckoning him closer, promising answers but also danger.
As they approached, the air grew colder, biting into Jason's skin despite the desert's oppressive heat moments earlier. The fortress gates were massive, carved with intricate symbols that seemed to shift and writhe when he looked at them.
Finn let out a low whistle. "Well, this is welcoming. Whoever built this place had a flair for drama, eh?"
Jason glanced at him. "You're not nervous?"
Finn grinned, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Nervous? Always. But nerves won't stop the storm, will they?"
Jason didn't reply. His focus was on the gates, their shifting symbols whispering faintly, almost as if trying to speak directly to his mind.
"Do we knock, or…?" Jason asked, trailing off as Finn approached the gates.
"Knocking's polite," Finn said with a shrug. He reached out and pressed his hand against the cold stone.
The symbols flared to life, glowing an eerie green. The ground trembled beneath them, and with a deafening groan, the gates began to open inward, revealing a dark hallway that stretched into the unknown.
Finn stepped back, his usual smirk replaced with a rare look of caution. "Guess that's our invitation."
Jason hesitated. Every instinct screamed at him to turn back, but he clenched his jaw and stepped forward, the compass steady in his hand.
As they entered, the air grew even colder, and the oppressive silence returned. The hallway was vast, its walls lined with more of the shifting symbols. Torches flickered to life on either side, casting long, dancing shadows that seemed to move with a mind of their own.
"This place… it feels alive," Jason muttered, his voice echoing unnaturally.
Finn nodded. "It probably is. Places like this don't just exist—they're made, and whoever made this had a purpose."
Jason stopped, his gaze fixed on a large mural etched into the wall. It depicted a figure standing in the center of a storm, surrounded by shadowy figures. The figure held a glowing object—a compass, just like the one Jason carried.
Finn noticed his stare. "Looks familiar, doesn't it?"
Jason nodded slowly. "It's the same. But what does it mean?"
Finn's expression darkened. "It means you're not the first one to walk this path, mate. And you might not be the last."
The mural seemed to shimmer, and Jason felt a strange pull, as though the image was trying to draw him in. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing against the cold stone.
Suddenly, the floor beneath them shifted, and Jason stumbled as the hallway dissolved around them. The walls melted away, replaced by an endless void of swirling light and darkness.
"What's happening?" Jason shouted, his voice swallowed by the void.
Finn grabbed his arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "The fortress doesn't just test your body—it tests your mind. Hold on, Jason. Don't let it take you."
The swirling void coalesced, forming shapes and images. Jason found himself standing in a room he recognized all too well—his childhood bedroom. The air was thick with nostalgia, but something was wrong. The room was too perfect, too pristine, as if plucked directly from his memories.
A voice broke the silence, soft and familiar. "Jason."
He turned to see his mother standing in the doorway, her kind eyes filled with warmth. But there was something off about her smile, something that made his skin crawl.
"This isn't real," Jason said, taking a step back.
"Of course it's real," she replied, her voice soothing. "You've been dreaming, Jason. It's time to wake up."
Jason shook his head, gripping the compass tightly. "You're not her. You're just another trick."
The figure's smile faltered, and her form began to distort. "Why do you always run from what's in front of you? Why can't you just accept the peace we're offering?"
"Peace?" Jason's voice rose, anger bubbling beneath the surface. "This isn't peace—it's a lie!"
The figure screamed, its voice shrill and inhuman, as it dissolved into the swirling void. The room vanished, replaced by another—a cold, dark corridor where Finn stood waiting, his lantern glowing faintly.
"Nice work," Finn said, his tone casual. "You're learning."
Jason exhaled shakily, his pulse racing. "What was that?"
Finn shrugged. "A fragment of the fortress. It digs into your mind, pulls out whatever it thinks will break you. Most people don't make it past the first illusion."
Jason clenched his fists, his determination hardening. "Then let's keep going."
Finn smirked, raising his lantern to light the way. "That's the spirit. But don't get cocky, mate. The fortress has plenty more tricks up its sleeve."
As they continued, Jason couldn't shake the feeling that the worst was yet to come. The fortress wasn't just testing him—it was toying with him, peeling back the layers of his mind and exposing his deepest fears.
But despite the fear, Jason felt something else growing within him. Resolve.
He wasn't just here to survive. He was here to win.