DoorBound

Atlas stepped into the room, feeling a jolt of surprise. Rather than the crumbling lab or eerie ruin he'd braced himself for, the space was… a cozy cottage. The walls weren't rough stone, as he'd expected; instead, they were warm, sturdy wood, bringing a rustic charm to the place. It looked as though it had been designed for comfort rather than survival.

To his left, a wide fireplace crackled with life, its flames casting flickering shadows across a couch and a low table. Plates of food sat invitingly on the table, almost as if someone had just prepared them.

The scent of spiced meat and fresh bread drifted through the air, and Atlas felt his stomach rumble in response. No matter how odd this situation was, he knew one thing he was going to make sure he got a taste of that food.

His thoughts, however, were interrupted as the strange man, still hobbling and leaning heavily on his cane, gestured for Atlas to follow. He led him to a long counter on the right side of the room. The surface was scattered with countless sheets of paper, their surfaces filled with strange, twisting symbols that Atlas couldn't recognize, interspersed with markings in English.

From the looks of it, this was some kind of research area, though what the man was studying remained a mystery.

The man sank onto a wooden stool by the counter and motioned for Atlas to come closer., with his guard still high he moved closer. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was in the presence of someone whose motives lay deep beneath the surface, like the roots of a tree hidden in the earth.

Finally, the man spoke.

"I don't need to know your name,"

he said, leaning back slightly.

"But you will know mine. For I have seen to it that our fates are connecting. You, my dear escape vessel, will be my salvation, and in exchange, I will bestow upon you knowledge that would make even the most seasoned of scholars weep with envy. You may call me Ivan a fitting name for a man of my stature, don't you think?"

Atlas stifled a smirk. He'd encountered more than his share of strange individuals in this trial, but Ivan's strange blend of self-importance and theatricality was almost amusing. And yet, there was something in the man's words that caught Atlas's interest, something in the offer he was presenting.

"What exactly does being your 'escape vessel' entail?" Atlas asked, eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and intrigue.

Ivan's face broke into a wide, almost childlike grin, his dark eyes gleaming with excitement.

"What a question! The gods themselves must have prompted you to ask. You will carry me to the Door, returning me to the world of the living and the free."

Atlas's mind raced, parsing Ivan's words carefully. The offer seemed straightforward enough: guide Ivan through the trial's end in exchange for knowledge. It was tempting. And if things went south, he could always leave him behind.

But then, Ivan's phrasing struck him, "the world of the living and free." The unsettling words seemed to imply that where they were now wasn't the living world. Just the ramblings of a madman, surely… but he couldn't shake the cold chill it sent down his spine.

"Show me that your knowledge is worth having," Atlas replied, his skepticism simmering just below the surface.

Ivan's grin vanished, and he moved deliberately, shuffling through the mess of papers until he pulled out a small scrap, its surface marked with a symbol that immediately drew Atlas's attention, an eye. Without a single word, the room shifted. Atlas felt a pulse, like a heartbeat, and then the air around them thickened with an overwhelming surge of Aether.

This wasn't like the Aether he'd experienced before. This was raw, unfiltered, wild power, flooding the room with a palpable energy that made the hairs on his neck stand on end. Even the Aether used by the strongest he'd met couldn't compare to this.

He watched in silent admiration as Ivan controlled it with almost delicate precision, the dense energy condensing and swirling until it formed a spinning mass of purple, dark and rich, coiling tightly around the symbol on the paper like a serpent preparing to strike.

Atlas stared, mesmerized. This was Aether controlled to a degree he hadn't even considered possible. Even if he'd trained endlessly and stretched his mind to its limits, he would never have imagined such mastery. Watching Ivan manipulate it was like witnessing the impossible brought to life.

As the purple energy spun faster, Ivan's gaze remained steady, his face shifting only slightly with the occasional twitch of concentration. Finally, he closed his eyes, letting the Aether sink back into the symbol, which returned to its ordinary, ink-stained form. He took a shuddering breath, and Atlas saw beads of sweat dotting his forehead. Clearly, this display had cost him a great deal of energy.

Ivan spoke again, his voice hoarse yet steady. "Now you see, the gods demand sacrifice for the gifts they bestow. Power without consequence is an illusion." He tapped the brace on his leg without looking at it. "You must give something of yourself to gain what you seek."

He held the paper toward Atlas, the eye symbol now eerily silent.

"Place this over your eye, and allow the Aether within to flow into you. See the world as I see it, through the truth the gods have shared."

With that, he hobbled away to a small kitchen area, leaving Atlas alone with the symbol in his hand. Atlas examined it cautiously, his mind contemplating. The man was strange, no doubt, but he exuded a knowledge that was too real, too tantalizing to ignore.

Atlas steeled himself, his instincts torn between distrust and a curiosity that gnawed at him like hunger. He pressed the symbol over his eye, focusing on the thick layer of Aether embedded in it. He willed it to flow into him, and his vision went dark.

Then, in an instant, it shifted. Instead of the symbol, he saw a sprawling city. Buildings stretched high into the air, their familiar shapes cast in shadow.

It was his home.