"If all paths lead forward, but one path erases the memory of why you began, which path preserves the journey?"
Silence fell.
Michael’s eyes narrowed instantly.
Rynne frowned.
"A journey isn’t measured by distance," she said. "It’s measured by continuity. If you forget why you started, you didn’t preserve anything."
For a brief moment, the symbols trembled.
Then they realigned.
"Answer accepted."
A soft tone echoed.
"One of four confirmed."
"Question two."
The voice paused.
"What is heavier."
Michael blinked.
Rynne stiffened.
The question continued.
"A mountain.
Or a name you can no longer call."
There was no mention of materials. No rules. No hidden mechanisms.
Just words.
Michael felt something shift in his chest before his mind even finished processing it.
He did not answer immediately.
Neither did Rynne.
Because the answer was obvious.
And because obvious answers were often the most dangerous.
Rynne was the one who spoke this time.
"The name," she said softly.
The sphere remained silent.
Michael followed without hesitation.
"A mountain can be moved," he added. "Eroded. Broken. Forgotten. But a name you can no longer call doesn’t get lighter with time. It only sinks deeper."
In the supernatural world, even realms could be moved. But when something insignificant was placed beside them, it oddly stood out.
This was Michael’s logic, supported by whatever reasoning had e to mind at first glance.
"Answer accepted."
"Two of four confirmed."
"Question three."
"What is the easiest thing to lose?"
Michael blinked.
Rynne frowned almost immediately.
That was it?
Just a plain, almost childish question.
Michael’s mind moved fast.
"Trust," he said after a second. "It takes years to build and a moment to destroy."
Rynne shook her head at once. "No. That’s too heavy. The question says easiest, not most painful."
"Pain doesn’t disqualify it," Michael replied. "Trust disappears the moment doubt enters."
Rynne crossed her arms. "Then it wouldn’t be the easiest. If it mattered enough to hurt, it wasn’t easy to lose in the first place."
Michael looked at her. "You’re overcorrecting."
"And you’re romanticizing it," Rynne shot back.
The sphere remained silent, waiting.
Michael exhaled slowly, then tried again.
"Time," he said. "You don’t notice it leaving until it’s gone."
Rynne hesitated, then shook her head again. "No. You always notice time. That’s why people regret it."
Michael’s brows knit together. "Then what do you think it is?"
Rynne was quiet for a moment, visibly torn. She glanced at the sphere, then back at Michael.
"I don’t know," she admitted. "But none of yours feel right."
Michael clenched his jaw.
After a moment, he lifted a hand slightly. "Fine. Answer it your way."
Rynne inhaled, then let it out slowly.
"The easiest thing to lose," Rynne said, "is attention."
Michael looked at her in utter confusion.
That was it?
That was her best answer?
Attention?
Silence.
A low tone echoed.
"Answer rejected."
Rynne’s shoulders stiffened.
"Correct answer."
The light sharpened.
"Something small."
Michael froze.
Rynne stared.
The voice continued, unbothered.
"The easiest thing to lose is something small, because it is dismissed, overlooked, and forgotten."
The sphere pulsed again.
"Two of three answers confirmed."
Michael let out a short, incredulous breath.
"...That’s it?" he muttered.
Rynne stared at the projection, then laughed once under her breath, sharp and disbelieving.
"All that," she said, "and the answer was something small."
Michael shook his head slowly.
It was not close to his answers. Not even adjacent.
And yet, it fit perfectly.
The sphere began to rotate again.
"Proceeding to final question."
"Final question."
"What do you bring with you when you e empty handed?"
Silence fell heavier than before.
Michael stared at the words.
Rynne did the same.
There was no trick wording. It was painfully simple, almost insulting in its simplicity.
And that was what made it terrifying.
Michael’s first instinct was to answer immediately. Too many thoughts surfaced at once.
Every answer felt correct.
Yet every answer also felt wrong.
He forced himself to stay quiet.
They could not afford another mistake.
Rynne’s jaw tightened. She shifted her weight slightly, then stopped herself. Her eyes flicked once to Michael, then back to the sphere.
This question was different from the others.
Michael inhaled slowly.
What do you bring with you when you e empty handed?
Nothing, his mind answered reflexively.
But that was too literal.
And literal answers had already proven to be traps.
Rynne pressed her lips together. Michael almost spoke.
He stopped himself.
The question was not asking what you needed.
It was asking what you brought.
The distinction mattered.
He glanced at Rynne again.
Neither of them dared to gamble now.
Two answers confirmed. One rejection already hanging over them like a blade.
Michael’s thoughts slowed.
Rynne finally broke the silence, her voice low.
"This one feels dangerous," she said. "Because it sounds obvious."
Michael nodded faintly.
They stood there for several more seconds. The sphere did not rush them. It waited patiently.
Michael closed his eyes briefly.
What do you bring when you e empty handed?
A few seconds later, he opened them.
"I think I know," he said quietly.
Rynne turned to him immediately. "Are you sure?"
"No," Michael replied.
She hesitated, then nodded once. "Say it."
Michael looked at the sphere.
"When you e empty handed," he said slowly, choosing each word with care, "you bring yourself."
The sphere did not react.
Rynne’s breath caught.
Michael continued.
"Everything else is something you add. But yourself is what arrives first."
The silence stretched.
For a moment, Michael wondered if he had failed.
Then the sphere pulsed.
"Answer accepted."
Rynne’s shoulders sagged slightly, the tension finally releasing.
"Three of four confirmed," the voice said. "Threshold met."
The symbols inside the sphere unraveled, transforming into flowing lines that sank into the ground, merging with the magic circle beneath their feet.
"Access granted."
Michael let out a slow breath he had not realized he was holding.
Rynne looked at him, a strange expression on her face.
"That was risky," she said quietly.
Michael gave a faint smile.
"So was everything else," he replied.
Ahead of them, a portal slowly emerged from the void.
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