Falco stands there, looking at us. Behind him looms Ellora's sculpture, larger than life, her lifeless eyes gazing down at us.
A god.
That was all I could think in that mont. I don't know why, but until then, I hadn't thought much about gods. Yet, looking at a re idol of her, it felt as though I was standing in her divine presence.
It made feel... insignificant.
Is this what everyone else feels too? Or have they already grown accustod to such extraordinary beings? Maybe their constant contact with such entities has dulled the wonder.
"Don't panic now, princess," Blaze muses in my mind. "I've yet to et one, but trust , the real deal is going to be much more fearso than this."
I straighten myself, trying to push the discomfort away. Falco turns around and steps forward. Placing his hands on the massive tal handles of the gate, he pulls with all his might.
The gate groans loudly as it shifts slightly. Falco bends over, clutching his knees, huffing for breath. He's out of breath? Just how strong does soone need to be to even enter this godforsaken place?
Falco is, without a doubt, the strongest person here. I'm not even sure if everyone combined could defeat him. And yet, here he is, struggling.
While these thoughts race through my mind, a familiar sound echoes—an intrusive chi ringing in my head. It's the system. I usually ignore these notifications, but this ti, the sound lingers longer than usual.
Curious, I open the system panel with a ntal command.
---
System Note:
The First Elusive Trial Begins: Ellora's Veil!
The Second Elusive Trial Begins: Forgotten Land of Gold!
The Third Elusive Trial Begins: A Song of Fairies!
The Fourth Elusive Trial Begins: The Noise of Wind!
The Sixth Elusive Trial Begins: The Deepest Ocean!
Best Wishes to the Host!
---
Huh. Okay.
I had a hunch this would be an Elusive Trial. It wasn't hard to guess, right? But multiple trials in a single place? In a single dungeon?
I want to turn around and leave this place as fast as possible.
...But I won't.
Wasn't Nightshade Sanctum the Fifth Elusive Trial? I did notice that the notification has no ntion of it—does it an that only a few of the trials are here while so are not? Was this done purposefully? Or is there sothing more to it?
It's given—A Song of Fairies is the trial of the fairy goddess Aine. The Noise of Wind belongs to Hera, Goddess of Wings. The Deepest Ocean belongs to Neptune, the Sea God. And Forgotten Land of Gold must belong to Geb. That one's not for sure, but the word "land" does connect it to the God of Earth.
Most obvious is Ellora's Veil, the trial of the Goddess of Light.
Looking around, I notice the others—Adam, Aron, Vexa, Devon, even Alia—standing still. Their eyes seem distant, unfocused, as if they're seeing sothing I can't.
I'm not going to guess what that ans. Not now.
Falco's voice cuts through the tense silence. "Well, everyone, I'll warn you one last ti. Once we're inside, the gates of Ellora's Veil will close. They won't open again until we conquer this place and erge victorious."
His tone is nonchalant, but there's an edge to it, a warning we'd be fools to ignore.
One by one, we step forward, following him. I'm the last to enter, my footsteps heavy as I pass through the gate.
Just as Falco promised, the mont I'm inside, the massive doors groan softly and close behind us, sealing with an ominous finality.
We're trapped. Inside The Fallen Grace.
The gate shifts open and imdiately connects to a chamber, vast and echoing, stretching far beyond what I initially expected.
The space is ginormous, the sheer scale of it making feel small and inconsequential. The ceiling arcs high above, forming an enormous do that seems to stretch into infinity, its curvature creating an almost celestial effect. It's not bare either—intricate patterns, carved with painstaking detail, twist and turn across its surface, catching the faint golden light from below and casting delicate shadows that dance along the walls.
The walls themselves are a deep, earthy brown, composed of massive slabs of stone. Each piece is rough yet precisely placed, as if an ancient and skilled hand had built this place stone by stone. Despite the age the chamber exudes, there isn't a speck of dust or wear visible.
On these walls, spaced far apart, are towering goblets, each lit with a steady, flickering fla that bathes the entire chamber in a warm, golden glow. The light spreads evenly, illuminating every corner yet leaving just enough shadow to remind us of the unknown.
The floor beneath my feet is smooth, unnaturally so. It gleams faintly, as though polished to perfection over centuries. With every step, my boots make the faintest sound, the echoes carrying far into the emptiness. The temperature in the chamber surprises ; it's cool but not biting, a soothing cold that feels deliberate, almost welcoming.
But none of that holds my attention for long.
In the center of the do, commanding all focus, is a figure.
Shriveled and frail, the figure kneels as though frozen in ti. Its hands are clasped tightly together in a gesture of prayer. The posture is rigid, almost unnaturally so, the tension in its fra evident even from the distance. A white mantle covers it entirely, shrouding its form and face in layers of cloth. Despite the concealnt, the mantle clings close enough to suggest a feminine figure beneath, its shape unmistakable.
The figure is positioned at the heart of the chamber, as if placed there purposefully. A wide expanse separates us, yet her presence dominates the space. The distance seems deliberate, a barrier not just of space but of sothing unseen, sothing sacred.
Her voice, soft and rhythmic, floats through the chamber. It's faint but clear, audible as if spoken directly into my ear. The sound carries a strange lody, a prayer perhaps, or an incantation. The words are unintelligible, their aning lost, but the tone evokes sothing deeper—sorrow, reverence, or maybe both.
The longer I look, the more the figure feels less like a person and more like an extension of the place itself, as though she has been here forever, entwined with the chamber and its ancient, unspoken purpose.
I remained still, unable to move or avert my gaze, as if the very air is urging to stay quiet, to not disturb whatever this mont is.
"Adam." Falco called for him,"Kill her." He ordered.
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