As the golden orb pulsed on the obsidian table, a silence fell, thick with anticipation. The seven "uninvited" gazed at it, each processing Barry's impossible offer in their own way. Across from them, the seated members watched, their expressions a mix of calculation, amusement, and profound understanding.
Marco Dwanvigo, the Builder, leaned back in his seat, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Ah, the initiation. Always a fascinating spectacle. I remembered when you did yours" He glanced at Annabetha. "You'd think after seeing it once, the novelty would wear off, wouldn't you?"
Mikael, a satisfied smirk on his face, chuckled, loud enough for Klaus to hear. "Looks like you're about to have a very personal reckoning, Niklaus. Something tells me your 'truth' will be quite… messy." He relished the sharp glare Klaus sent his way. "Don't fret, boy. Perhaps you'll finally learn a lesson in humility."
Freya, her brow furrowed in concentration, ignored Mikael's baiting. Her eyes were fixed on the golden orb, a subtle hum of ancient magic resonating from it. "The Manor … it's not just observing," she murmured, more to herself than anyone else. A hint of concern touched her features, knowing the dark depths some of these individuals possessed.
Barry, the enigmatic host, watched his guests with an unnerving calm, a quiet satisfaction emanating from him. "The stage is set," he announced, his voice echoing slightly in the vast chamber. "The Axiom awaits."
----------------------------------------------------------
The Trials Begin
One by one, with a mixture of apprehension and defiant resolve, the uninvited reached out and touched the pulsating golden orb. With each touch, a flicker of light enveloped them, and they vanished, drawn into their unique, personalized tests.
Aya Al-Rashid: The Burden of Control
Aya found herself back in the opulent, blood-stained halls of the Strix mansion, moments after her lover's betrayal. Elijah stood before her, not the man she knew, but a traitor, a betrayer who abandoned them, his eyes burning with guilt.
She felt the phantom ache as he walked again yet again. This wasn't just a memory; it was a choice: Subdue the uncontrollable rage that led to her downfall, or be consumed by it once more.
Her trial was a fight against the wildness of her own power, a brutal internal struggle to master the instincts she had always prided herself on controlling.
The air reeked of ash and regret, demanding she confront the cost of her loyalty and the illusion of her invincibility.
----------------------------------------------------------
Klaus Mikaelson: The Echo of Solitude
Klaus was plunged into an endless, desolate void. There were no enemies to fight, no siblings to command, no power to seize.
Just the chilling silence and the whispers of every person he had ever pushed away, every betrayal, every act of cruelty that had left him utterly alone.
A vast, swirling chasm below. Before him lay two paths, both shrouded in mist, both leading into the unknown.
A chorus of voices, echoing his own past anxieties, screamed conflicting advice: Go left! No, right! It's too dangerous! Wait for more information! His trial was a test of his capacity for decisive action.
He was frankly unimpressed, if this was the best the trial couldbring out? Then he was unshaken it would seem.
For there was no 'right' answer presented, only the necessity to choose, to leap into the uncertain without the guarantee of safety or success. And wasn't that something he was good at?.
----------------------------------------------------------
Francesca: The Unveiling of Truth
Francesca found herself in a labyrinth of flickering candles and ancient scrolls. Every path presented a new riddle, a new encrypted message, a new layer of deception.
But beneath the surface, a deeper, unsettling truth hummed, veiled by illusions. Her trial was to discern the genuine from the fake, to peel back the layers of misdirection to find the core reality.
Every answer she thought she found led to another question, a more complex lie. It wasn't about solving a puzzle, but about trusting her intuition, even when logic dictated otherwise.
----------------------------------------------------------
Maxwell(The Pale Man): The Cost of Compromise
Clide stood in a dimly lit, austere courtroom. Before him, two figures – one representing unyielding justice, the other compassionate mercy – presented their arguments.
He was the judge, forced to make and pass on judgements, not just make but also forced to live with them.
His trial was to choose between an absolute ideal and the messy reality of human consequence, to find his moral center when no clear 'good' choice existed.
He saw the pain his decisions inflicted, no matter how carefully considered, forcing him to confront the inevitable compromises of life and the burden of living with the outcomes.
----------------------------------------------------------
Qetsiyah: The Shackles of Obsession
Qetsiyah found herself not in the Other Side she had created, but in a vast, ethereal replica of the mortal plane, stretched out before her like a tapestry.
Every thread represented a soul she had bound, a life she had twisted, all in the name of her consuming desire for Silas. Amara and Silas stood, spectral and unchanging, forever beyond her grasp, always slipping past her hands - it irked her to no ends.
Her trial was to break the binds of her ancient obsession, to relinquish the need to control what could not be controlled, or be forever trapped in its echoes.
The very fabric of the place seemed to glow with her past bitterness, threatening to consume her in a cycle of endless, unfulfilled longing.
----------------------------------------------------------
Cami O'Connell: The Price of Knowledge
Cami found herself in a confined, dimly lit room, across a table from a silent, terrified man. Her mind raced, a complex puzzle laid out before her, a truth she desperately needed to uncover – a truth about a loved one's suffering, a way to alleviate a great evil.
The answer resided within the man, but he would not speak.
Beside her, a pristine, ancient dagger glinted. A voice, smooth and persuasive, whispered: His death holds the key. Kill him, and the truth is yours.
Fail to act, and the knowledge, and any hope it offers, will be forever lost.
Her trial was to compromise her deepest moral conviction – the sanctity of life – for the sake of critical understanding.
The man's silent plea in his eyes tested the very core of her empathy and ethical code.
----------------------------------------------------------
'Well, they should be dkne anytime now', Barry noted while looking at his pocket watch." Ohh there, they are then."
He remarked as the golden orb on the table flickered erratically, then began to glow with increasing intensity.
One by one, the figures shimmered back into existence, deposited back into their chairs with varying degrees of exhaustion, newfound clarity, or simmering resentment.
Aya Al-Rashid returned, her breath coming in sharp, deliberate gasps. Her eyes, though still sharp, held a new, chilling resolve.
Klaus Mikaelson reappeared, his usual sneer replaced by a distant look. When faced with the widening chasm, he had taken a step, choosing the left path, purely on instinct. He had always knew that sometimes, the only way forward is to simply move.
Francesca returned, clutching her head, a triumphant, yet slightly horrified, expression on her face. She had seen beyond the illusions, uncovered a dark, uncomfortable truth about her own lineage that shattered her previous understanding.
Sabine there was nothing to say about her, she got the lucky end of the straw, choosing a trial that was second nature to her, after all - what was body count when it came to power?. She passed for sure.
Clide was back, his shoulders heavy, but his gaze was clear. He had made the impossible choice, choosing to accept the suffering it caused because it was the only way to uphold his own, personal principle of justice.
Qetsiyah materialized last, her ancient eyes burning with a furious, almost manic energy. She had tried to bind Amara and Silas again, to bend the trial to her will, but the Axiom refused.
Instead, she had turned her immense power inward, reinforcing the very nature of her obsession!! She had not let it go, no, she never could let go of it - could she now.
Finally, a faint shimmering indicated the return of the last participant.
Cami O'Connell reappeared, her shoulders slumped, her face etched with profound weariness, but her eyes held a quiet, unwavering defiance. The dagger lay untouched. She had refused.
The truth, no matter how vital, was not worth a life, not on her terms. The whispers of lost hope had tormented her, but her moral line remained uncrossed.
Barry's smile remained, unchanged, devoid of judgment. "Remarkable," he announced, his voice filled with genuine appreciation.
"Six of you have demonstrated true resonance. And one," his gaze briefly settled on Cami, "has chosen a path of unwavering principle, which, while commendable, might not be the right answer hehe."
He clapped his hands once, and the golden orb on the table solidified into several smaller, distinct orbs, each pulsating with the unique energy of one of the newly proven individuals.
"Welcome, then," Barry declared, his purple eyes gleaming. "To the Astral Germinal Garden. You have proven yourselves. Now, the real conversation can begin."