When Aiden Sterling opened his eyes, the world was not the same.
Gone were the cracked walls of the ruined mansion.
Gone was the biting cold seeping through the broken windows.
Gone was the suffocating scent of rot and failure.
Instead, he found himself standing in the middle of a vast marble hall — towering columns stretching up to a ceiling so high it vanished into mist. The air shimmered with a strange energy, thick and heavy, pressing against his skin like a second atmosphere.
At the far end of the hall, a massive iron gate loomed — chained, locked, and burning faintly with blue fire.
Etched above it, in a language he somehow understood, were the words:
> "Only the Marked May Pass."
Aiden glanced down at his wrist.
The Chrono Sigil had burned itself into his flesh overnight — a golden serpent devouring its own tail, its eye a brilliant crimson.
As he moved, the mark seemed to pulse with an eerie life of its own.
> "Where the hell am I?" he muttered under his breath.
A slow clap echoed through the empty hall.
He turned sharply.
From the shadows emerged a girl — no older than seventeen — barefoot, wearing a simple black dress that swayed with each step.
Her hair was silver, like strands of pure moonlight, and her eyes... her eyes were an impossible shade of violet, glowing faintly in the dimness.
Beautiful.
Dangerous.
A contradiction wrapped in flesh.
> "Welcome to the Ashen Sanctum," she said, her voice like wind through a graveyard.
"You are now one of the Marked."
Aiden frowned, tension curling in his gut.
> "And that means...?"
The girl tilted her head, smiling a little too sweetly.
> "It means you have a chance to reclaim everything you lost.
Power. Wealth. Revenge."
She walked closer, the marble whispering under her feet.
> "But it also means you are bound by the Rules."
Aiden narrowed his eyes.
> "What rules?"
She reached into the air — literally tearing it apart with her bare hands — and pulled out a black parchment, the edges smoking as if freshly burned.
> "First Rule," she read, her voice sharp and clear.
"You may not speak of the Sanctum to those Unmarked."
> "Second Rule. You must survive the Trials within seventy days — or be consumed by the Sigil."
> "Third Rule..." — she paused, and her smile deepened into something darker — "betrayal is not only allowed... it is encouraged."
Aiden's stomach twisted. He didn't like the sound of that.
The girl tossed the parchment to him.
It disintegrated into ash before it touched his hands.
> "Fail any of the rules," she said, "and you die.
Painfully."
> "Succeed..." — she leaned in close, her violet eyes piercing — "and you'll have more power than you ever dreamed."
Aiden's mouth was dry.
> "Who are you?" he rasped.
The girl stepped back, curtsying mockingly.
> "Call me Lira.
I'm your handler.
Your guide.
And, if you're lucky, your executioner."
A loud rumble shook the hall.
The iron gates were opening — inch by screeching inch.
Beyond them, Aiden could see only darkness.
And in that darkness... eyes.
Hundreds.
Thousands.
Waiting.
Watching.
Lira winked.
> "Welcome to the real game, Aiden Sterling."
Without another word, she pushed him through the gate.
The doors slammed shut behind him.
And the Trial began.
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