By the time the sun bled its last light through the sickly canopy, Erasmus had already led them off the familiar path—if any path could be called that in this eldritch wilderness—and into deeper, darker woods where even the wind seemed afraid to whisper.
The group followed him without complaint. That was the real miracle.
He'd spent the entire day mumbling to himself, nodding violently at nothing, eyes rolling with dramatic intensity whenever someone glanced his way. And when that wasn't enough, he'd told the saddest fake orphan story he could muster—complete with quivering lips and phantom tears. He'd even rubbed his eyes raw with his sleeves for added flair.
But oh, the payoff.
Underestimation. Confusion. Trust.
All the ingredients necessary to herd this flock of frazzled believers.
Erasmus acknowledged to himself as they trudged along behind him. So easy. Just act zealous enough, a little crazy, add in some in divine suffering, and they'll follow you into a coffin if you call it salvation.
The trees thinned. The air thickened.
And then, like some divine stage cue, the cave revealed itself—its mouth wide and wet and waiting, framed by black-veined stone and hanging roots that twitched like sleeping limbs. A pulse—faint, like a heartbeat—throbbed from inside, and the air grew cold enough to bite.
"There," Erasmus said, raising an arm dramatically as if unveiling a holy relic. "The One Who Walks Beyond Reason has brought us to the next revelation."
The group hesitated. All except Riven, who stepped closer with a hand on his sword.
"…This place reeks," Mira muttered, scanning the curling mist leaking from the entrance. "Like death and delusion had a lovechild."
Erasmus's eyes gleamed, his voice low and reverent. "That's how you know it's sacred."
But inwardly? He just shrugged it off.
No god led us here. I just followed the patterns. The pulsing in the petals. The way the moss receded from certain paths. The Sight showed me this place days ago. All I had to do was wait for the right performance to get them here willingly.
And now, he had them.
Each one raw with confusion, clinging to meaning, looking for someone to follow.
Erasmus licked his lips and turned to face them. "This is not just a cave. It is a crucible. One that demands offerings in exchange for truth. Hardship was the test—this is the reward."
He didn't believe a single syllable.
But by the way they stared at him—wary, curious, hopeful—he knew it didn't matter.
—
The cave yawns open before them like the maw of a sleeping titan, its breath stale with centuries of dread. Gnarled black roots coil over the jagged entrance, pulsing faintly as if feeding on the despair that drips from within. The black petals still hang in the air, but now they don't fall—they hover, suspended mid-descent like glass caught in time. Every motion sends a ripple through them, like they're watching.
Erasmus stands at the threshold, posture cocked just so—half noble priest, half unhinged prophet. His eyes shimmer unnaturally, even though there's no light to catch. "This," he announces, sweeping an arm with a showman's flair, "is where the worthy are separated from the forgettable."
Rei frowns. "You said your God led you here."
Erasmus grins with a little too much enthusiasm. "The One Who Walks Beyond Reason speaks only to those who endure. And I—" he places a hand dramatically over his chest "—have endured."
No one argues. They're too tired. Too shaken. The last few days—or however long it's been—have been an endless spiral of unreality, and this cave? It radiates the kind of cold that doesn't just cling to your bones—it clings to your name.
They step in.
—
The cave walls are slick and luminous, veins of glowing red and pale violet threading through the stone like arteries in a dying god. A low hum thrums beneath their feet, a sound that isn't heard so much as felt, like the ground is remembering ancient footsteps. They walk until they reach it—a stone altar, gnarled and cracked, rising from the cavern floor like a parasite. Carved into its surface is a phrase, glowing with malicious elegance:
"An organism must be given for all to pass."
Immediately, the rune circle surrounding the altar ignites with a hiss, casting their shadows long against the cave walls. The group halts.
"A sacrifice," Mira mutters, hand drifting to her weapon. "Knew it."
Rei steps forward, brows drawn. "It just says 'one.' That could mean anything."
Riven crouches by the edge of the altar. "It says a living thing."
Mira's eyes snap wide. "Like a person?!"
Rei shakes his head, uncertain. "Maybe a bug? Or a—"
"—Piece of grass," Riven interrupts, calmly plucking a lone blade growing between two rocks. He walks to the altar, lays the green sliver gently on the stone.
A beat.
Then whoosh—the grass incinerates in a column of violet fire. The rune dims. A section of the cave wall rumbles open with a groaning moan like a dying beast.
Everyone exhales.
Riven simply stands, wiping his hands. "Still counts."
—
The air here is heavier. The black petals now lie in piles along the edges, occasionally twitching without wind. The light is dimmer. Another altar awaits, and another inscription pulses to life.
"A piece of yourself."
Nobody speaks at first. The meaning is obvious. Not metaphorical.
"Blood?" Rei suggests, glancing at his arm.
"Hair," Mira offers grimly, already tearing a strand out.
"Teeth?" Brin mutters, half-joking. No one laughs.
Riven draws a dagger without ceremony and slices across his palm. Blood drips onto the altar. A hiss. The blood evaporates.
But the rune flickers, hesitant.
"…It didn't like it?" Mira says, worry blooming in her voice.
"No," Riven murmurs, wiping the blade, "it took it. But it felt…hungrier."
Erasmus steps forward, sighs with theatrical melancholy. "When I was six, I had to eat insects to survive. My parents were taken by a flood. Or a war. Or… maybe it was bandits." He rubs his eyes, lets out a fake sob.
The group stares.
"Anyway!" He brightens unnaturally. "It was all worth it for my God! Clearly, the One Who Walks Beyond Reason wanted me to suffer, to starve, to crawl—so that I could be deemed worthy to carry divine purpose!"
He starts nodding rapidly. "Yes. Yes, of course. Suffering is the chisel that shapes the statue of belief."
—
Here, the floor is lined with mirrors. But none reflect correctly. In some, the characters are children. In others, they're monsters. In one, Rei sees a version of himself without eyes. At the center, the altar. This time, the inscription is longer, slower to form, as if hesitating:
"Speak a memory you cherish—and surrender it. The cave will take it. It will not return."
A beat.
"Nope," Mira says, backing away. "That's messed up. That's wrong."
Rei's jaw clenches. "I'll go first."
He steps up to the altar, closes his eyes. "When I was thirteen, I beat my instructor in a sparring match for the first time. My older brother lifted me up and said I was finally stronger than him."
The moment he finishes, the rune flashes—and Rei's eyes glaze. "Wait...what was I—?" He touches his forehead. "What was I just saying?"
Gone.
Mira groans. "You've gotta be kidding me."
Still, one by one, they go.
Mira surrenders a moment of being told she was brave.
Riven gives up a nameless promise he won't speak aloud.
Brin mumbles something about laughter, a warm hand, and a village, but when pressed—he can't remember where or who.
Then Erasmus.
He clutches his chest, tears welling up way too fast. "There was a kind old man who gave me half a loaf of bread once. I—I cried and thanked him. He said I had the eyes of a prophet." He sobs.
Then the cave flares, and the door opens.
But internally? Erasmus was apathetic..
Fake. All of it. Just an illusion my Fractured Sight spat out. The cave didn't know the difference. I kept what matters.
As the group trudges deeper, rattled and quiet, Erasmus lingers behind for a moment. He watches them. Observes how they drag their feet, how their eyes drift to the floor instead of each other.
His made up sobs fade as they move into the next room. Calculating.
This next room... will show me what they're really made of.
He says no more.
He just walks.
And somewhere deep inside the Cave of the Unworthy, the petals begin to stir again.