The light that had bathed the sky slowly dimmed as Fred and Elise stepped onto the next platform.
This place was different.
The ground was no longer made of stone or crystal — it was living flesh, pulsing under their boots, a grotesque mockery of life. Strange, dark tendrils coiled along the edges, reaching lazily toward the skyless void above.
It was utterly silent.
Even the sound of their breathing seemed swallowed by the oppressive atmosphere.
Fred kept Elise close, his hand hovering over his blade.
Then came the whispering.
At first, it was too faint to understand — like wind curling through dead leaves.
But then the voices sharpened, distinct, familiar:
"You're not good enough, Fred."
"You failed them all."
"You think you can protect Elise? You couldn't even save yourself."
Fred stiffened.
He knew these voices.
They weren't strangers.
They were his own thoughts — his own buried fears — twisted into words.
Beside him, Elise flinched too, hearing her own demons crawling into her ears.
The shadows around them morphed, pulling into shapes.
Figures from their pasts.
Fred's brother, collapsed and bleeding on the cobbled street where he had fallen.
Elise's mother, her back turned, walking away into endless darkness.
A nameless girl Fred had once failed to protect in the burning ruins of Helldrift City.
Fred's heart thundered painfully.
He couldn't move.
The shadows grinned with wicked smiles, feeding on hesitation.
"You are nothing but a broken boy pretending to be a hero."
Fred clenched his fists.
His breathing grew ragged.
The shadows circled them, forming a wall of cruel faces.
Elise looked up at him, her face pale but determined.
"Fred," she whispered, "don't listen to them."
But the voices grew louder, screaming, snarling:
"Murderer."
"Coward."
"You should have died with them."
Fred staggered backward, clutching his head.
The air became heavier, thick like tar.
But just as he was about to fall into despair — Fred caught sight of something.
A glimmer behind the shadows.
A tiny flicker of gold — like the first star in a stormy night sky.
It was them — the real memories.
The laughter, the victories, the promises he had made.
The lives he had touched.
The love he had given and received.
Fred gritted his teeth.
He drew his sword — the steel humming in the darkness.
He remembered.
He was not defined by failure.
He was defined by what he stood up for despite the failures.
With a roar, Fred slashed through the nearest shadow.
The creature shrieked, dissolving into smoke.
Elise followed, her daggers flashing, cutting down the false memories one by one.
Side by side, they fought.
Each swing, each step forward was an act of rebellion against the darkness.
When the last shadow dissolved, the ground beneath them shuddered.
And then — from the very heart of the void — a path of silver appeared, stretching into a rising spiral.
Fred breathed hard, his body bruised and aching but his spirit unbroken.
Elise smiled at him, the faintest gleam of pride in her eyes.
"We're not our pasts," Fred said quietly.
"We're what we choose to become."
Without hesitation, they stepped onto the silver path, climbing higher.
Above them, in the distance, a city made of starlight slowly came into view — a place few had ever reached in the Trial of Echoes.
The true battleground was yet to come.
And somewhere, hidden within that city, a deeper secret awaited them — one that could change their destinies forever.
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