The morning was silent. Even the birds were reluctant to make a sound.
Fitran and Rinoa stood at the threshold of a hidden crevice behind the crumbling monoliths. As the sun rose slowly from the east, its light refracted perfectly onto the stone wall—this was where shadows became clues. Behind this wall lay traces of the Proto-Speech history, an ancient language said to connect souls with the universe. Recognized as a revelation for those who study it, Proto-Speech has the power to unveil the truths hidden within the dimensions of time.
Not their own shadows, but rather the shadows of text that could only be seen at certain times. The script was not carved but rather light reflecting from stone to stone, forming a pattern like a series of mantras. In the hanging morning silence, the light shimmered and appeared to beckon them closer. One by one, the Proto-Speech letters glowed faintly:
"Gamma is not found by those who walk forward,
but by those who remember the first form of the world."
Rinoa read it slowly. "Gamma is not a place, Fitran. It is… the structure of something older than a place." The echoes of those words stirred in their minds, as if awakening buried memories within their souls. The history of Gamma carried ideas about self-discovery and understanding their origins. It was a journey towards a truth submerged in myths and legends, suggesting that the veil of time could indeed be torn through knowledge and curiosity.
Fitran pressed his palm against the wall. The stone was not solid. It vibrated faintly, like a breath of an ancient being sleeping behind time. Each vibration seemed to call forth forgotten memories, reminding them of tales that once formed a part of a lost world. These stones, silent witnesses of historic events, already held mysteries that could guide them further in their quest for identity.
Then—the wall opened.
They stepped into the endless corridor. The stones around them seemed to have two sides: one rough like bone; the other smooth like a mirror, reflecting dreams and memories, rather than their own faces. Each step they took stirred echoes that absorbed energy from every element surrounding them. The sounds that bounced back were not merely echoes; they were manifestations of hopes and doubts revealed through the long history of human existence.
Their footsteps produced echoes.
However, the echoes were not identical—each echo reflected a different word. The sounds were the rhythm of a journey to an era filled with the awakening of the soul. One by one, they immersed themselves in the profound meanings within the words, unraveling layer upon layer of their own identities. In this endless corridor, they were bound to the essence of eternity.
Echo of Rinoa:"Why are you afraid?"
Echo of Fitran:"What will you bring from this world to the next?"
"This... is not an ordinary corridor," Fitran said slowly. "It might be... a filter."
Rinoa nodded. "A filter is not for the strong. But for those who... do not deny their origins."
At the end of the corridor, they encountered three stone doors—unadorned and devoid of keyholes. However, in their midst stood a small altar, adorned with black stones shaped like tongues, and a single white crystal perched atop it.
Time seemed to pause between them and the altar. A deep contemplation of Proto-Speech began to fill Rinoa's mind. Originating from ancient times, Proto-Speech is the primal language that connects individual souls to the broader universe, capturing every meaning from their experiences into a harmonious voice. Rinoa felt as if she could hear the echoes of memories, adventures, and sorrows intertwined within each sparkling crystal before them. It appeared that this altar was a sacred place, a site where questions and answers about human identity were exchanged.
Rinoa reached out and touched one of the stone tongues. The tongue instantly melted like wax. From atop the altar, a question emerged:
"What cannot be taken to Gamma, even after you have fought for it your entire life?"
Fitran answered without hesitation, "Our true selves seek recognition from the world." For a moment, that answer lingered, resonating with the inner frequency between them. Throughout their journey, Fitran realized how often they became trapped by the desire for visibility, acknowledgment, and acceptance. Yet, at this moment, it became clear that true identity does not reside in external recognition, but in self-understanding and acceptance.
Suddenly, the third door trembled and opened slightly—just enough for them to slip through.
Rinoa gazed at him. "Each door is an embodiment of our trust in our own answers." A profound understanding flowed between them. They had reached a moment of testing. Behind each door lay the potential for revelation, be it hope or the disappointment they might have to face.
Fitran added, half-whispering, "And our honesty is the true key." A deep honesty, not just in the answers they provided to the altar, but also toward themselves; an honesty that could unveil what was hidden in the darkness of fear and regret.
They stepped into a circular room. Crystalline lenses floated in the air like watchful, sleepless eyes.
At the center of the room stood a transparent cylinder. Inside, a half-dissolved human body hung suspended, filled with cracks and veins of light. Rinoa felt vibrations in the air, energies awakening ancient words from Proto-Speech. Each echo in the chamber carried messages from the silent forest, moments disconnected by time yet connected through sound. She reflected on the importance of unfinished struggles; how each individual is a product of their journey, shaped not only by achievements but also by the vulnerabilities displayed along the way.
They stepped into a circular room. Stone lenses floated in the air, like unblinking eyes. A mystical aura enveloped the space, making each heartbeat resonate more intensely. Whispers of Proto-Speech, the ancient language imbued with knowledge and memories from millennia past, seemed to touch their souls. These words had transcended time, permeating every aspect of their surroundings.
In the center of the room, a transparent cylinder stood. Inside, the half-dissolved body of a human dangled, filled with cracks and veins of light. This figure symbolized fragments of forgotten history, a reminder of those caught between two worlds, searching for a meeting point of hope and despair on their journey to Gamma.
"Who is that…?" Rinoa whispered, her eyes widening with curiosity and fear. In her mind, she envisioned figures who had lost their way, whether through tales or misguided choices.
Fitran lowered his gaze. His face hardened. Images of historical figures who had endured similar suffering flickered through his mind, trapped within the dimensions of time and space. Each crack on the cylinder resembled a wound in the collective memory of humanity, scars that would never fully heal.
"It is not someone. It is… the form of those who failed to cross." Fitran's voice carried a deep weight, resonating with the despair that approached them. Each word seemed to pull Rinoa deeper into the abyss, making her understand the gravity of the consequences of this journey.
Surrounding that body, seven words written in Proto-Speech continuously rotated: words imbued with meaning, forming a bridge from the real world to another reality. Proto-Speech, known as the oldest language, is believed to contain the essence of all forms of communication and connection. Throughout a long oral history, those who could comprehend this language were expected to connect their souls with the past and grasp the meaning of their existence.
"Origin, Memory, Wound, Choice, Silence, Mirror, Passage." These words served as a mantra guiding them in their quest for identity. Each term seemed to symbolize an aspect of their search, bringing them closer to the essence of Gamma — a location believed to be the meeting point between the visible and the unseeable. What does each term mean, and how can they use it to change their fate?
"We must go through all of this... in that order," Fitran said slowly, his words laced with pain—a realization of the responsibility they bore. "This is the key to enter Gamma." His courage and determination were palpable, yet Rinoa could not shake the unease enveloping her heart. Torn between hope and surrender, they both had to face it.
They opened the first pathway—Origin Room. The room was filled with carvings of an undetermined world. No humans, no sky. Only the initial cracks of creation. In every corner of the room, they could feel an energy permeating the air, making each step feel like a manifestation. Behind the intricate carvings lay a history etched in symbols, telling the story of life before the present age.
From the stone, a voice echoed:
"Do not speak the names of your father, your mother, or your teacher.
But what made you want to live before you knew the word 'life'?" The question reflected a light of truth; everyone has origins, and every handprint they bear is part of a journey that has been traveled.
Rinoa grasped Fitran's hand. "Because I want to hear someone call my name with hope." That hope soared high in her heart, a promise to herself that she would not give up, that she would find her meaning. Her aspirations were the light illuminating the darkness; she was driven by a passion to enter the Gamma world and discover her deep-seated need for identity.
Fitran replied steadily: Despite the lurking doubt, he felt more connected to Rinoa than ever before. They were soul-searching adventurers, and together they would face the challenges of every room that tested their courage. What would be the outcome of this journey? While many people couldn't even pass through its entrance door.
"Because there is a small voice within me that refuses to be silent." The voice grew louder, urging them to step further into the void ready to embrace the limitless potential within themselves. The floor shone. An open space awaited.
The second chamber, Memory, lay ahead. It held a thousand unspoken stories recorded within the core of their existence, ready to unveil all the buried memories, like a call to remember the identities that may have been forgotten along the journey of life.
They paused at the threshold of the second chamber. Images of the past began to swirl in their minds, each memory a thread weaving together to form a complex web of life. Everything they experienced became part of a storm within their hearts, in moments when hope collided with fear. Memories served as a bridge connecting them to who they truly were. Their process of revisiting these memories was an important journey, a way to understand themselves before proceeding to the next step.
They knew, every subsequent space was not just a physical or magical challenge but an existential one.
"Because there is a small voice within me that refuses to be silent."
The floor shone. An open space awaited.
The second chamber was named Memory.
They paused at the threshold of the second chamber.
They knew that each subsequent space was not just a physical or magical challenge, but an existential one.
The two souls were connected by their long journey, tracing the footsteps of memories etched in the colors of recollection. In every moment, they felt the vibrations of energy penetrating space and time, as if the history of Proto-Speech guided them. Proto-Speech, the ancient language that lifts the voice of the soul, narrates the ancient history of civilizations that existed before them. In that history, every spoken word is a part of the self, reflecting the never-ending search for identity, and now they became a part of that eternal narrative.
Rinoa rested her head on Fitran's shoulder.
"If this space reveals memories we wish to avoid… can you promise me one thing?"
Fitran turned to her. "What?"
Overwhelmed by hope and doubt, Rinoa felt a weight envelop her. Deep inside, the question echoed, creating a resonance that connected one soul to another. If this space could evoke buried memories, were they ready to confront the shadows that might lurk? As their heartbeats synchronized, fear and courage competed, chasing a deeper understanding. In the darkest depths, they had to find the light.
"Don't deny who you are, even if I can't bear to see it."
Fitran closed his eyes.
"I won't be who you expect. But I will still choose you."
Time seemed to stand still as they gazed at each other. In that silence, Rinoa felt a spirit flowing between them, stronger than the fear that loomed. What did it mean to choose someone amidst the surrounding darkness? As they journeyed, the echoes of past memories began to rise, urging for acknowledgment. The strength of the past was ready to be summoned by those who dared.
Rinoa smiled faintly.
"And I will continue to choose you, even when we face terrifying things."
With strong hearts, they stood together. They stepped into the second room: Memory,
where the path to Gamma is not opened by strength,
but by the deepest honesty of a soul.
Every step they took into the second room carried an echo of silence, a power from memories surfacing in full mystery. This space offered more than mere images; here, time and space twisted together, shaping scenarios beyond their imagination. In the labyrinth of memories, they uncovered pieces of lost stories, traces of their ancestors, and whispers from winds carrying messages from forgotten generations.
Within the Memory room, they faced various visions that unfolded before them. First, an image of the vanished Proto-Speech civilization emerged. One by one, faces full of doubt appeared, gazing with the same hope and fear, as if urging them to unveil the hidden truth. Why had their once-cherished language become empty? Raising this question, Rinoa and Fitran were determined to delve deeper.
As they gazed deep into the core of the space, every symbol and letter etched on the walls depicted their ancestors' long journey. Memories of a historical era, where each voice had the power to awaken ancient elements that fortified existence. Through the honesty and determination that bound them together, they would uncover the strength to reconstruct their lost identity. Together, they would write a new chapter in this timeless narrative, fortified by the belief that within every memory lies new hope, and they were prepared to confront that daunting reality.