The mirrored staircase faded behind them as Kael and his companions stepped onto the next floor. Unlike the scorching heat of the Forging Floor or the eerie silence of the Divine Reflection, this place felt… alive.
Not in a way that suggested danger — at least, not immediately — but with a strange stillness, like walking into a web without realizing it.
The air was filled with a faint hum.
Before them stretched an endless field of floating threads — strands of light and shadow, red and silver, gold and black, all drifting gently in the space around them. Some stretched to the ceiling, others disappeared beneath the ground. A few pulsed softly, like veins carrying blood through the body of the Tower itself.
"What is this place?" Daren asked, instinctively lowering his stance.
Mier reached out a hand, letting a silver thread brush against her palm. "They're… lives. Connections. Paths."
Kael stepped forward, careful not to disturb too much. The moment his foot settled, several threads curled toward him, drifting lazily around his legs.
Each one shimmered.
Each one showed something.
Images flickered in the strands — of people Kael had seen, barely remembered, or thought long gone. A glimpse of the merchant from the first floor. The stranger who had offered him the Shard of Sight. Even the masked man who had disappeared without a word.
"They're memories," Rina whispered. "Not ours — the Tower's."
Veyr's gaze scanned the horizon. "Or maybe they *are* ours. Just forgotten."
Suddenly, the floor shifted.
Dozens of threads snapped tight like bowstrings, pulling in all directions. From their ends, shapes began to form — not monsters this time, but people. Echoes of connections, twisted and remade.
One stepped forward.
It wore Kael's face.
But younger. Softer. Eyes filled with hope instead of the hard edge of survival.
"Kael," the reflection said. "You were never meant to make it this far."
He didn't move. Didn't react. He'd fought twisted shadows before. This was different.
"You could've stayed," the younger version continued. "You had a family. Friends. You gave it all up for power."
"I didn't give it up," Kael said coldly. "I lost it. And I climbed so I wouldn't lose anything else."
More figures stepped from the strands.
A version of Daren — older, laughing, holding a child in his arms.
Rina — without scars, sitting under a tree with books scattered around her.
Mier — alone in a library, her eyes kind but empty.
Veyr — staring at a small cottage, a fire burning gently inside.
They weren't enemies.
They were regrets.
The Tower had stopped testing their strength. Now it was testing their resolve.
"This isn't real," Kael said, voice hardening. "None of it is."
The reflections looked at him with something almost like pity. "But it *could* have been."
He closed his eyes.
He felt it — the temptation to walk into one of those threads and stay. To give in. To rest. To stop being hunted, tested, forged.
But then he heard it.
A whisper — faint, but growing louder. Not from the illusions. From his companions.
"I'm still here," Daren muttered. "I'm still fighting."
Rina's voice was quieter, but firm. "I don't need a perfect life. I need a real one."
Veyr didn't speak — but he drew his sword. That was answer enough.
Kael's hand tightened on the Shard of Binding.
The moment he felt the pulse of its energy, the threads around him writhed and shrieked.
They *hated* defiance.
The fake versions lunged.
But this time, the group didn't hesitate. They didn't fight with anger — they fought with clarity.
Every swing of Kael's fist shattered another illusion. Every thread he severed broke a false hope. Rina's blades danced through the memories. Daren's strength ripped through illusions. Veyr fought like a ghost, striking where the threads were weakest.
And Mier… she reached into the threads themselves.
She *read* them.
Spoke a single word in a forgotten language — and the entire field shuddered.
Then, silence.
The threads fell limp.
The illusions collapsed.
Kael stood in the aftermath, breathing hard. The others gathered near him, quiet.
"What… was the point of all that?" Rina asked.
Kael stared at the fading threads.
"To remind us that power costs something," he said. "Even if it's just the version of ourselves we'll never get to be."
They stood in silence.
Then, without fanfare, a new doorway formed from the center of the floor. A golden frame, covered in swirling symbols, opened with a low hum.
Kael looked at the others.
"We're not who we were," he said. "We're not going back. Not after this."
They nodded.
One by one, they stepped through.
And the Tower, ever watchful, began to prepare the next test.
There were only a few floors left now.
And at the top of it all… waited a god's final breath.