Chapter 141: The Truth Behind the White Door

Falling should have hurt.

Rin expected the impact before it came. He tightened his grip on Eryndor’s hand, bracing himself for the moment they struck the ground, but the darkness swallowed every sense of direction. There was no wind against his face, no feeling of weight in his stomach, and no way to tell whether they were falling or suspended in place.

Then Eryndor’s fingers slipped.

"Eryndor!"

Rin caught his wrist with both hands.

For a brief moment, he saw Eryndor’s face illuminated by the black mark on his palm. Fear crossed the boy’s expression, but he did not cry out. Instead, he looked directly at Rin.

"Don’t let go!"

"I won’t!"

The darkness trembled.

A golden line appeared beneath them, thin as a strand of hair. It widened rapidly, unfolding into a bridge of light that caught their falling bodies. They landed hard, and Rin rolled onto his side, still clutching Eryndor’s hand.

For several seconds, neither moved.

Then Eryndor sat up.

"Are you hurt?"

Rin shook his head, although his shoulder ached from the impact.

"I’m fine. What about you?"

"Nothing broken, I think."

Eryndor examined his hands and knees, then looked around.

They were no longer in the chamber of golden mist. The bridge beneath them was made of translucent stone, and countless tiny lights moved far below its surface, flowing in opposite directions like rivers that had forgotten where they were going.

At the far end stood the white door.

It was closed.

Rin rose slowly.

"Didn’t that door open before we fell?"

"Yes."

"Then why is it closed now?"

Eryndor gave him a tired look. "If I knew, do you think I’d still be standing here asking myself the same question?"

Despite everything, Rin almost laughed.

Almost.

He glanced at the darkness beyond the bridge. There was no sign of the faceless stranger, but its final words remained in his mind.

The chamber will decide for you.

Rin had no intention of allowing an unknown force to determine who survived.

"We should find another way across," he said.

Eryndor looked at the door. "And if there isn’t one?"

"Then we’ll make one."

"You make that sound very easy."

"It isn’t."

"Good. At least you’re being honest now."

Rin looked at him, unsure whether Eryndor was teasing him or genuinely accusing him of something.

Before he could answer, the black mark on Eryndor’s hand flashed.

The bridge shuddered.

A sound rose from beneath their feet—a low, resonant hum that seemed to travel through their bones rather than the air. The lights trapped inside the stone gathered toward Eryndor, forming thin streams that climbed his legs.

He stumbled backward.

"What’s happening?"

Rin caught his shoulder.

"Stay still!"

"I am staying still!"

The light reached Eryndor’s wrist.

For an instant, the black mark became completely white.

A voice spoke from beneath the bridge.

Bearer recognized.

Eryndor froze.

Original covenant detected.

Rin’s breath caught.

The voice continued, emotionless and ancient.

Compensation remains incomplete.

The bridge lit up.

A circle of symbols appeared around Eryndor’s feet. Rin recognized the central mark immediately. It was the same symbol that had appeared on his own hand when the Gods first discovered them.

He stepped away instinctively.

The circle expanded to include him.

Second bearer recognized.

Rin stared at the symbols.

"Second bearer?"

Eryndor turned toward him. "What does that mean?"

"I don’t know."

It was the truth, but it wasn’t enough.

Rin had seen the mark before. He had seen it in the ancient family records, on Eryndor’s hand, and in the strange visions that connected Aelion’s past to the future. Yet nobody had explained why the same symbol had appeared on him.

He had assumed it was connected to his presence in Aelion’s body.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

The bridge separated beneath their feet.

A narrow line opened between them, widening into a deep fissure. Rin reached for Eryndor, but the light rose between them like a wall of glass.

"Eryndor!"

Eryndor struck the barrier with his palm.

It did not move.

"I’m here!"

The voice beneath the bridge spoke again.

One bearer may proceed. One bearer must remain.

Rin felt anger flare inside him.

"Stop repeating that!"

The symbols brightened.

Selection required.

"No selection!"

The bridge shook violently.

Eryndor pressed both hands against the barrier. "Aelion, look at me!"

Rin forced himself to meet his eyes.

"I’m looking."

"Don’t listen to it. It’s trying to separate us."

"I know."

"Then do something!"

Rin almost told him that he was trying. Instead, he examined the barrier, searching for a weakness.

The wall was not solid stone. It was made of overlapping symbols, each turning slowly in a different direction. They resembled the writing on the white door, though the characters were too old for Rin to understand.

He placed his palm against the barrier.

The mark on his hand burned.

A golden light spread from his skin, and the symbols nearest his fingers stopped moving.

The voice beneath the bridge fell silent.

Rin stared.

He pressed harder.

The barrier cracked.

Eryndor’s eyes widened.

"Again!"

Rin pushed his hand against the wall. Pain ran through his palm, but he refused to withdraw it. One symbol after another stopped turning, their light fading as the golden mark spread across the surface.

Then something answered from inside him.

Not a voice.

A memory.

Rin saw Aelion standing in a vast white chamber. The Gods surrounded him, their faces hidden behind veils of radiance. Before them floated two symbols: one golden, one black.

Aelion looked exhausted.

"You said the bargain would save him," he said.

A woman’s voice answered.

"It will."

"You said the price would be my future."

"That is the price you offered."

"Then why is his mark still connected to mine?"

The Gods said nothing.

Aelion stepped toward the two symbols.

"You promised me his life would be his own."

"The Bearer of Calamity cannot exist without a covenant."

"Then break the covenant."

"We cannot."

"Or you will not?"

The chamber shook.

One of the Gods raised a hand, and the black symbol began to fracture. Aelion immediately stepped forward.

"Don’t touch him!"

The memory shattered.

Rin gasped.

The barrier disappeared.

He stumbled forward, and Eryndor caught him before he fell.

"What’s wrong with you?" Eryndor demanded. "Your hand—"

Rin looked down.

The mark had spread across his palm, forming a faint golden pattern beneath his skin. It faded as he watched, leaving only a dull ache.

"I’m all right."

"No, you’re not."

"Eryndor—"

"You nearly collapsed!"

Rin fell silent.

Eryndor’s anger faltered. He looked frightened now, and that frightened Rin more than the strange voice or the impossible bridge.

"Every time we come here," Eryndor whispered, "something happens to you. You hear things I can’t hear. You look at things as if you remember them, and then you tell me you know nothing."

Rin’s chest tightened.

He had to be careful.

Eryndor believed he was Aelion. He had never been told about Rin, and he could not know that the voice speaking inside Rin’s mind belonged to someone other than the person he saw before him.

Rin couldn’t explain the truth.

Not here.

Not while the world around them seemed determined to tear them apart.

"I don’t understand everything that’s happening," Rin said. "But I’m not hiding an answer from you because I don’t trust you."

It was the closest he could come to the truth.

Eryndor studied him.

"Then promise me something."

"What?"

"If this place tries to make you choose between yourself and me, don’t agree to anything."

Rin remembered Aelion standing before the Gods, accepting a bargain he believed would save Eryndor.

"I promise."

Eryndor searched his face for a moment, then nodded.

"Good. Because if you make another bargain without telling me, I’ll find a way to drag you back from wherever you go."

Rin managed a small smile.

"That’s a terrible plan."

"It’s the only one I have."

For a brief moment, they were simply two exhausted boys standing on a bridge, arguing about an impossible future.

Then the white door opened by itself. Beyond it lay a chamber of mirrors.

Rin recognized the room from the vision he had seen before the fall. Shattered mirrors covered every wall, and each reflected a different version of Aelion. Some stood alone. Others reached toward figures that never appeared. In several reflections, Aelion wore the robes of a noble heir. In others, he wore white garments covered in golden symbols.

At the center of the chamber stood a stone pedestal. Above it floated a small, dark object. A black stone.

Eryndor stopped at the threshold. The mark on his hand pulsed once.

"That’s the same stone from the memory," he whispered.

Rin remembered the golden sphere beneath the city, the black stone inside it, and the moment Eryndor had touched it and whispered Aelion’s name.

"Yes."

Eryndor stepped into the chamber. Every mirror turned toward him.

Not physically. Their frames remained still, yet the reflections changed until every glass surface showed Eryndor standing alone.

Rin looked at the nearest mirror.

In it, Eryndor was much younger. He sat on the floor of a dim room, his knees drawn against his chest. A black mark covered his palm, and tears glistened on his cheeks.

An older Aelion knelt in front of him.

"I won’t let them take you," the reflection said.

The young Eryndor shook his head.

"You can’t promise that."

"I can promise I’ll try."

"That isn’t the same thing."

Aelion lowered his gaze.

"No," he admitted. "It isn’t."

The reflection dissolved.

Rin moved toward the next mirror.

This one showed Aelion alone in a room filled with books. He held a sheet of parchment in one hand, reading it over and over.

At the bottom of the page was a single sentence.

The surrendered future shall be removed from the memory of the one who offered it.