Elizabeth blinked.
One moment, she was stepping into the eerie, ominous chamber marked The First Door of Madness—which, frankly, already sounded like a terrible life decision. The next, she was standing in an entirely different world.
The sky was blackened. The air smelled of ash and sorrow. And in front of her—
Herself.
Not a mirror. Not an illusion. But her—older, weary, and with eyes that carried the weight of a thousand tragedies. Her armor was cracked, her sword heavy in her grip. Around her, the ruins of a battlefield stretched endlessly.
And the people she swore to protect? They weren''t cheering. They weren''t relieved.
They were afraid.
"…Oh." Elizabeth scratched the back of her head. "Well, this isn''t ominous at all."
---
The vision wasn''t cruel. It wasn''t loud. It wasn''t some demonic entity screaming "YOU SHALL SUFFER, MORTAL!" while dramatic thunder roared in the background.
No, it was much worse.
It was calm.
"This is not a trick. This is not a lie," her future self spoke, voice steady. "This is the path you are walking. And no matter how hard you fight… this is where it ends."
Elizabeth swallowed. "Alright, let''s all take a deep breath. Maybe talk this out. Maybe get a drink—do you drink? Do I—do we drink?"
Future Elizabeth didn''t answer. She just looked at her. The kind of look that says, You already know the answer. And that''s why you''re scared.
Oh, for Titan''s sake.
---
The battlefield grew silent. The world around her blurred. And then—
A simple instruction.
"Step forward."
Elizabeth''s gut twisted.
This was it. The test wasn''t about endurance. It wasn''t about fighting a monster or resisting some dark temptation. It was this.
If she stepped forward, she accepted this future. She acknowledged that no matter what she did, this was where she would end up.
If she stayed still?
She rejected it. Even if she had no proof that she could actually change it.
Her hands clenched. Her breath felt heavy.
"…You know," she muttered, "I''ve seen a lot of stupid things in my life. I once watched Orin try to punch a fire elemental. I''ve seen Helen challenge a guy three times her size to an arm-wrestling match. I''ve personally made at least fifty life choices I deeply regret."
She exhaled.
"But this?" She smirked. "This is by far the dumbest thing I''ve ever been asked to believe."
Her foot slammed down—backward.
The illusion cracked.
---
The battlefield faded. The sky brightened. And suddenly—
She was back in the chamber.
The First Door of Madness stood silent behind her, as if nothing had happened.
Elizabeth let out a deep breath. Her heart was still pounding.
"…Okay. Not gonna lie. That sucked."
She sat down, running a hand through her hair. Her body was back, unharmed. But her mind? That was another story.
Because the real question wasn''t whether the vision was false.
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The real question was—
"What if it wasn''t?"
And no matter how hard she tried to shake it off…
That doubt wasn''t going anywhere.
"Now to these second door" Elizabeth muttered.
---
Elizabeth stepped forward, bracing herself for whatever nightmare awaited her.
But instead of swirling madness or some cackling demon welcoming her to the next level of suffering, she found herself standing on familiar ground.
Ebon Hollow.
The Mourning Bridge stretched before her. The Black Sepulcher loomed in the distance. The sky, as always, was ink-dark, but something was… wrong.
Everything was too still. The air felt aware—like the entire world was watching her, waiting for something.
She knelt, brushing her fingers against the ancient stone beneath her.
The ground rippled.
Elizabeth''s stomach dropped.
"…Oh, I hate that."
And just like that, reality shattered.
---
She barely had time to scream before her mind was pulled somewhere else.
No—she wasn''t just watching now.
She was something else.
Someone older.
Someone powerful.
Someone who didn''t see the Kierane as wardens.
They saw them as worshippers.
Her vision warped, showing Ebon Hollow in its prime—not a fortress against the Veilborn, but a temple. A shrine.
Figures knelt before the Sepulcher. They didn''t tremble in fear; they prayed.
And the names they chanted—
They were names Elizabeth didn''t recognize.
And yet, deep inside, she knew them.
A cold realization coiled around her spine.
The Kierane had never been protecting the world from the Veilborn.
They had been waiting for them to return.
---
The vision lurched forward, dragging her out of the distant past and slamming her into a more personal nightmare.
She was back in the Silent Keep.
But she wasn''t herself.
She was a child.
She watched—helpless—as her father, Rael Kierane, carved symbols into the Hollow''s walls. Not to strengthen the Veil, but to weaken it.
She turned—her mother, Selene Kierane, stood before the elders.
Speaking of a prophecy.
A prophecy Elizabeth had never been told.
A prophecy that she was never meant to survive.
Her stomach twisted.
She wasn''t a miracle.
She wasn''t fate''s chosen warrior.
She was a mistake.
A mistake her family had tried—again and again—to erase.
And the worst part?
She had never been the one to reach out to the Veil first.
It had been them.
The Kierane.
Her family.
The people who told her she was a guardian—
They had been servants all along.
And when the Veil tore open that night—when the whispering laughter slithered through the Hollow—
It had not been calling her by chance.
It had been waiting.
For her.
---
Elizabeth slammed back into the present, gasping, heart pounding.
The Veil loomed before her, but it was different now.
She could hear it—feel it—understand it.
The trial wasn''t over.
Now, she had to make a choice.
1. Deny it.
Reject the truth. Lock the past away. Pretend she was just a normal Kierane warrior and keep fighting for the world she had always known.
2. Embrace it.
Accept what she truly was. Accept what she was meant to become.
This trial didn''t exist to show her the past to haunt her.
It showed her the past so she couldn''t escape it.
Elizabeth exhaled.
Her hands clenched.
She took a single step forward—
—And smiled.
"Alright, you cosmic bastards," she muttered. "Let''s see what happens when I start making my own destiny."
And the Second Door of Madness shattered.
---
The door swings open.
She expects darkness. Fire. Chains wrapping around her ankles.
Instead—she steps into warmth.
A quiet village.
The air is crisp, tinged with the scent of fresh earth. The streets hum with laughter, children chasing each other between stalls overflowing with fruit and bread. The sky is impossibly blue, the kind of blue that shouldn''t exist in a world that knows war.
There is no blood in the dirt.
No whispers clawing at the edge of her mind.
No Veilborn lurking in the shadows.
And then—she sees herself.
Elizabeth, but not Elizabeth.
She stands across the street, hands dusted with flour, brushing stray strands of hair from her face as she laughs at something unseen. There is no weight in her eyes, no burden in the way she carries herself.
She is smiling.
Carefree. Untouched by suffering.
Happy.
The sight is so wrong it makes Elizabeth''s stomach churn.
"No… this isn''t right."
She steps forward—and suddenly, a voice greets her.
A voice that does not belong to any living thing.
---
A woman stands before her.
No—not a woman.
A presence.
A shape draped in light, shifting and flickering at the edges, as if the world cannot decide whether she should exist.
She has no face—only warmth.
A warmth that seeps into Elizabeth''s skin, wrapping around her bones like a mother''s embrace.
"You have fought enough."
"You have suffered enough."
"Come, Elizabeth. It''s time to rest."
The world bends around the words.
And suddenly—Elizabeth sees herself.
Not the one in the village. Not the one standing frozen in this trial.
A different her.
Whole.
No pain.
No whispers.
No war.
She has a home.
She has a family.
She has peace.
And then—a door appears.
Simple. Wooden. Unremarkable.
But Elizabeth knows its weight.
Knows what it means.
Step through, and everything vanishes.
Her past.
Her pain.
Her Core.
"You will never have to fight again."
"No one will remember you suffered."
"No one will remember you at all."
It is not a command. Not a plea.
It is simply a truth.
Elizabeth stares at the door.
She should say no.
She should reject it instantly, without hesitation.
But the warmth is so tempting.
And for one terrible moment—she wants to.
---
She takes a step forward.
The whispers in her mind—gone.
The weight on her shoulders—lifted.
The scars that map her body—fading, erased as if they never were.
For the first time in her life—she feels light.
"You deserve happiness, Elizabeth."
"You deserve to be free."
Her breath catches.
This is what she''s always wanted.
This is what she''s always dreamed of.
This is real.
Isn''t it?
"Just one more step."
She reaches for the door handle.
And then—
---
"Elizabeth!"
A voice.
A voice not from here.
A voice that does not belong in this quiet place.
"Don''t!"
The world fractures.
Hairline cracks splinter across the sky, and suddenly—she sees.
She sees what she was never meant to see.
The battles she fought.
The people who stood beside her.
The pain, the loss, the grief—but also—the love.
She remembers.
If she steps through that door—
She will never see them again.
They will never know she existed.
It will be like she was never there.
The warmth turns cold.
Her fingers hover over the door handle.
"Wait."
Her hands tremble.
Because for one terrible second—she almost did it.
---
A hooded woman watches.
She does not move. She does not push.
She simply waits.
"You can still choose peace, Elizabeth."
"No more fighting. No more pain."
"Are you sure you want to remember?"
Elizabeth closes her eyes.
She could say yes.
She could step through.
And all of it—all of it—would be over.
But—
She thinks of them.
Of voices calling her name in the dark.
Of hands reaching for her when she stumbled.
Of the promise she made—not just to herself, but to the ones who still believed in her.
Elizabeth opens her eyes.
And she speaks.
"Yes."
The world shatters.
The warmth—gone.
The weight—slams back onto her shoulders.
The pain—roars through her veins.
And she wakes up—gasping.
---
She clutches her chest where her Core is
It burns in her grip.
The whispers claw at the edges of her mind.
The burden presses against her ribs.
"Elizabeth?"
A voice.
Someone is here. Someone real.
She looks up—but she does not answer.
Because now—she knows the truth.
For one, terrible second—
She was willing to give it all up.
And worse—
She still wants to.
----
To be continued