Chapter 238: Trance

That question started to look more valid the more he observed Slick Jones and thought it over.

I’m not gonna sit around and find out.

Finn’s eyes moved across the twenty-two archways, trying to determine which to choose. His Error vision was still showing him nothing, so any choice he’d make would be purely by instinct and luck.

He grit his teeth, about to select the corridor that called out to him, when suddenly the Blessed moved.

Ailin walked forward with her characteristic calm, heading directly toward one of the corridors. The twenty-second one. The last in the circular arrangement, positioned opposite where they’d “entered” the hall.

Finn felt relief wash through him. The Blessed had made a choice, and her judgment had proven supernaturally accurate throughout their journey. If she was choosing this corridor, then…

“Anyone who wants to live should follow me,” Finn announced loud enough for everyone to hear.

He started walking toward the twenty-second corridor, following the Blessed. Althea fell into step beside Ailin immediately, her hand resting on her sword hilt, ready for whatever came next.

Behind them, Finn heard movement. Shuffling feet. Muttered conversations. People making quick decisions about whether to follow or stay.

Finn entered the corridor and glanced back. Roughly eighty percent of the survivors had chosen to follow. Smart ones, recognizing that staying in the hall might feel safe but probably wasn’t. Those who remained sat against the walls, too traumatized or exhausted to move further.

The corridor’s entrance created a barrier. Once Finn passed through, he could no longer see the hall behind them. It was like passing through a veil, similar to when they’d first entered the temple. The connection was severed, and Finn had no way to know the fate of those who’d stayed behind.

He suspected they wouldn’t survive. Not unless they chose a corridor on their own and entered before… whatever happened to people who stayed in that hall too long, happened.

Damned Vara,

Finn cursed internally.

She’d known. Known exactly which corridor to enter.

The only question remaining was whether she’d deliberately left them in that hall knowing danger would come. Whether she’d simply left them to come back later and he was just being cynical the whole time. Or whether it was like he suspected, and she had sacrificed them intentionally for her purpose.

He’d find out when they emerged. If they emerged.

Finn turned his attention forward, examining the corridor they’d entered. It stretched ahead into darkness, though not the oppressive darkness of the forest or fog. This was simply absence of light, natural and understandable.

Althea walked briskly past him, catching up to the Blessed who led at the front. The two moved in tandem, Althea’s protective instincts keeping her close to Ailin despite the Blessed clearly needing no protection.

Finn felt some reassurance in that. The Blessed had chosen this corridor independently, right before he’d announced his own intention to follow. That suggested this was the correct choice, or at least, not a fatal one.

They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing softly against stone. The corridor was extremely wide, easily accommodating their entire group without crowding. The walls were smooth, carved from the same flawless stone as the central hall.

They continued in silence for minutes, until eventually, light began to appear ahead. A soft glow that grew stronger as they approached what must be the corridor’s end.

As the light increased, details emerged on the walls, and Finn’s eyes widened slightly.

They were murals. Painted directly onto the stone in colors that seemed impossibly vibrant for something that must be ancient. The artwork covered both walls, telling a story through sequential images.

They’d entered the corridor in darkness, missing the story’s beginning. But here, where light revealed the latter portions, Finn could see enough to understand the narrative’s conclusion.

The central figure was a creature. Humanoid but not quite human. It looked most like an ape, yet human enough not to simply classify it as an ape.

Besides it’s physical appearance, Finn also felt a sense of familiarity he couldn’t place a finger. Looking at this creature felt like recognizing something he should know, something important that danced just beyond his conscious memory.

In the visible sections of the mural, the creature stood atop a mountain. Its arms were raised, its head thrown back, mouth open in what the painting had clearly meant to convey as a roar.

But it wasn’t just a roar.

Finn found himself moving closer to the wall, studying the image with increasing intensity. The longer he stared, the more he understood. It was like the painting communicated directly, bypassing normal perception to inject meaning straight into his mind.

The creature wasn’t simply roaring at the heavens. It was questioning them. Demanding answers. The posture, the positioning, all of it conveyed defiance. Rebellion.

The creature was questioning existence itself. Questioning the heavens’ definition of what it was. The shackles placed upon it by forces beyond its control. The limitations imposed on its soul, on its nature, on its very being by something—

“Arros.”

Finn blinked. Althea’s voice cut through the trance he’d fallen into.

He turned and realized with shock that he’d veered significantly off course. His face was mere inches from the mural, so close his breath fogged the painted surface. His fingers traced the images, following the story’s progression without conscious thought.

Everyone was staring at him. The entire group had stopped, watching with expressions ranging from concern to confusion. Even the Blessed had turned, and in those black-abyss eyes, Finn thought he detected something. A glint. Recognition, perhaps. Or knowing.

“What’s wrong?” Althea asked, her voice carefully neutral but her eyes sharp with concern.

Finn realized he was breathing hard. Panting, actually, like he’d just finished intense physical exertion. His heart hammered in his chest. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

For a moment, he almost asked how no one else had noticed the paintings’ strangeness. How they could look at these murals and not feel what he’d felt, not understand what he’d understood.

But he stopped himself. Whatever had happened, whatever he’d experienced, was apparently unique to him. Pointing it out would only raise questions he couldn’t answer.

“It’s nothing,” Finn said, straightening and stepping back from the wall. “Just… thought I saw something in the artwork.”

Althea studied him for a long moment, her gaze flicking briefly to the murals before returning to his face. She didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t press either.

“We’re about to enter,” she said instead, gesturing ahead.

Finn looked forward and saw what she meant. The corridor’s end was visible now. An archway filled with light unlike the soft ambient glow that had illuminated the murals. It was the source, bright and intense. A barrier of luminescence obscuring whatever lay beyond.

They’d reached their destination. Or at least, the corridor’s destination.

Finn walked to the front of the group, nodding at the survivors who’d followed him. Offering silent encouragement, acknowledging their courage in continuing forward despite everything they’d endured.

Then he turned to Althea and the Blessed. Exchanged a firm look with Althea, seeing his own determination reflected in her eyes.

Together, they stepped through the barrier of light.

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