The moment Ren stepped closer to the obelisk, the forest reacted.
The leaves shimmered.
The wind reversed.
And the sky—shifted color.
From a gentle twilight blue to a soft, eerie emerald, like someone had pulled a translucent curtain of mana over the heavens.
"Okay," Ren said, squinting upward. "That's new."
Gloop wobbled with a quiet glorp, scanning the air.
Lys didn't look surprised.
"That's the obelisk recognizing you," she said, her voice low. "Only chosen Travelers see the sky change."
Ren gave her a sideways look. "You see it too?"
She nodded. "Of course. I was chosen long ago."
He hesitated. "So why are you still here?"
Lys turned back to the obelisk. "Because the gate doesn't open until two are ready."
Before Ren could even ask what that meant, the obelisk cracked.
A clean, shimmering fissure split its surface, glowing with silver and green light. The carved runes detached—floating in the air, spinning slowly. The moss at its base peeled back like a curtain, revealing stone steps spiraling downward.
"Oh," Ren breathed. "Secret underground spiral staircase. Classic. I'm in."
"Wait," Lys said sharply.
He froze mid-step.
She pointed to a faint symbol hovering in the air—an eight-pointed spiral, glowing faintly red among the green.
"That's not supposed to be there," she whispered.
Ren tilted his head. "That bad?"
"It means something else has opened the gate. Something not part of the choosing."
As if on cue, the air behind them hummed—a sound like string being pulled taut across dimensions. Gloop hissed, sliding off Ren's shoulder and bouncing protectively in front of him.
A tear appeared in the fabric of the air.
A vertical line.
A rip.
Out of it stepped a figure dressed in deep crimson leathers, with a half-mask shaped like a lizard's skull. Strange symbols burned along the edges of their coat—symbols Ren didn't recognize, but that hurt to look at.
The figure stepped forward.
"You're early," Lys said coldly.
"And yet… right on time," the masked figure replied. His voice sounded like a chorus of whispers layered atop each other. "The gate belongs to the Weaver's Chosen now."
Ren stepped beside Lys. "I'm sorry, the what now?"
The figure lifted a pale hand. "You can step aside, Traveler. This gate was meant for unraveling."
Gloop growled.
"Hard pass," Ren said.
He raised his hand—and for a moment, the mana around him responded like a living thing. The training, the ruins, the wild fights in forgotten temples—it all flared inside him like instinct.
The gate hadn't just chosen him.
It had prepared him.
The masked figure tilted his head. "Ah. You're not just marked by the Core. You've been changed by it."
Ren grinned. "You have no idea."
Then the gate flared fully open.
A blast of pure wind swept upward from the spiral below. Not air. Mana. Heavy, ancient, and calling.
Ren looked to Lys.
She nodded once.
And together—with Gloop blobbling after—they leapt into the gate.
Leaving the intruder behind.
For now.