Parallel Memory

Chapter 617: No Turning Back

The shattered door behind them closed with a grinding finality, the black stone slamming into place as though fused with the chamber itself. A shockwave of oppressive energy radiated from it, vibrating through the squad’s bones and rattling the shields of Lisa’s blessing. Even the air seemed denser now, thick and oppressive, carrying the stench of dark magic that clung to the walls.

"No... no going back," Mia whispered under her breath, her eyes scanning the towering figure before them. She tightened her grip on her sword, though every instinct in her body screamed for caution.

The figure didn’t move, yet the chamber pulsed with its presence. It was as if the shadows themselves bowed and twisted around it, gathering into writhing shapes that seemed almost alive. The heat of the red embers in its eyes penetrated every corner, burning into the squad’s minds with the promise of death.

Vance’s hands trembled. For the first time, his usual bravado and arrogance were gone, replaced with a raw, human panic. His breaths came in sharp bursts. "We... we can’t fight this... this thing... we’ll die!" His voice cracked as he turned, eyes darting toward the door they had entered. "I... I’m getting out of here!"

"Vance!" Mia barked, her voice snapping through the thick air like a whip. "There is no leaving!"

He froze mid-step, his confidence shattered. The black stone of the door radiated a faint pulse, impervious to magic or brute force. Lisa’s shield couldn’t reach it, couldn’t even touch it. Even from where he stood, Vance could feel its presence: indestructible, immovable, a barrier not just of stone but of will.

"You... you can’t run," Sylvia said quietly, her arrow nocked, fingers steady despite the trembling that coursed through her. Her elven precision carried the calm of centuries of training, though her eyes betrayed her fear. "The door... it’s not just closed. It’s... it’s like it’s alive. Nothing gets through it. Nothing gets out."

Vance’s jaw worked, but no words came. His chest heaved. He had trained, fought, survived countless missions—but this... this was unlike anything he had ever imagined. The overwhelming aura of the shadowy figure, the impossibility of retreat... it was absolute.

Hiro stepped forward, placing a hand on Vance’s shoulder, gripping it firmly. "Listen to me. Running won’t save you. It won’t save any of us. We survive together, or we don’t survive at all."

Vance’s eyes flicked toward him, then to the closed door, and finally to Mia. Something in him wavered—the last remnants of his courage colliding with his instinct for self-preservation.

"I... I can’t..." Vance muttered.

"You can," Mia said sharply, cutting through the despair. "You have to. Right now, the only choice you have is forward. If you falter, if you hesitate, you’ll die. We all will. There is no other way. None. Do you understand?"

Vance swallowed, the fight between fear and discipline warring within him. The indestructible presence of the door behind them reminded him there was no choice but to face the impossible. Slowly, his shoulders squared, and though his hands still shook, he moved back into formation.

Lisa whispered a prayer under her breath, murmuring a blessing over her shield as it pulsed faintly. The sphere of pale light around them rippled with her magic, forming a tenuous barrier against the suffocating darkness. It wouldn’t harm the shadow figure—they all knew that—but it was the only thing keeping the oppressive aura from crushing their spirits entirely.

The figure before them remained motionless, yet the pressure it radiated seemed to push and pull on their thoughts. Fear, doubt, rage—all came unbidden, swirling in their minds. Every instinct told them to flee, every training shouted fight. Yet the weight of the presence forced them to test their resolve before any blades were drawn.

Mia took a deep breath, centering herself. Her eyes scanned each squad member, noting their fear, their hesitation—but also their determination. Hiro stood beside her, gripping his sword like a lifeline, while Sylvia and Zion had taken positions that allowed them both to attack or defend in unison. Lisa’s blessing hummed faintly, a tether between reality and the encroaching darkness. Vance, though shaken, finally raised his weapon, following the rhythm of the squad.

"This thing..." Sylvia whispered, arrow notched, bow trembling slightly. "It’s... alive. Not in a normal sense. It thinks. It reacts. It’s... it’s aware of us."

"That’s not a monster," Zion said quietly, voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. "It’s... an intelligence. A force. And whatever it is, it’s been here long enough to know what to do when mortals enter its domain."

Lisa nodded. "It’s feeding on our fear. That’s why it feels impossible. The moment we let panic take over, it grows stronger. We have to hold ourselves together."

Mia’s own thoughts raced. Every warning instinct, every memory of past battles, every strategy they had learned—they had all led to this. This wasn’t a fight they could brute force. It wasn’t about strength alone. This was a test of will, cohesion, and the ability to endure under pressure.

"We move as one," Mia said finally, voice calm, commanding. "We don’t let it divide us. Every step we take, every attack we make, is coordinated. We hold the line, and we push forward. No hesitation. No fear. Understand?"

The squad murmured assent, each member swallowing the rising panic and anchoring themselves to her words. Vance’s lips pressed into a thin line, his earlier panic now tempered by determination. He wasn’t leading, but he wasn’t fleeing either.

The shadow figure’s eyes flared brighter, almost as if it recognized their resolution, and the air seemed to pulse with malignant anticipation. The laughter returned, lower this time, almost conversational, as if the entity was testing them, sizing them up.

"You tread boldly," it said, voice like grinding stone. "Do you believe your courage can withstand me?"

Mia’s chest tightened. "We don’t believe. We endure. That is enough."

The figure shifted, just slightly, yet the movement was enough to make the shadows writhe and twist like a tide of ink. Every step they took forward was mirrored by the oppressive weight that pressed down on them, probing their minds for weakness.

Each member of the squad tightened their stance. Lisa’s shield hummed brighter, absorbing some of the pressure. Zion flexed his fingers on the spear, every muscle ready to respond. Sylvia’s arrow hovered halfway to release, but she held it, waiting for Mia’s command. Hiro adjusted his footing, sensing the precise moment to strike if an opening appeared. Vance kept pace, hands trembling slightly on his weapon, but he remained present.

Mia’s eyes swept the chamber. The walls themselves seemed to pulse with latent dark energy, jagged reliefs of demonic figures crawling across the stone. Each breath they took carried the scent of fire, blood, and something older—something primordial.

"This..." Mia said, barely above a whisper. "This isn’t just a guard or a trap. This is a sentinel. Something left behind to test anyone who enters. And we’ve passed the first test simply by standing here."

Vance groaned, almost incoherently. "I—I don’t like this... I still don’t..."

"No one does," Mia replied, voice firm. "But we are not alone. We have each other. We move together. We survive together. That is all we can do."

For a moment, silence fell again. The laughter had receded, leaving only the oppressive presence, waiting, patient, calculating. And though fear still clawed at their hearts, a spark of resolve began to take root.

Mia lifted her sword, her eyes meeting each member of the squad. "We go forward," she said simply. "One step at a time. No retreat. No faltering."

The squad tightened their formation, breathing in unison. Every instinct screamed danger, every nerve screamed for retreat—but the indestructible door behind them, the suffocating presence ahead, and the weight of the mission left them no other choice.

Forward.

Into the unknown.

Into the shadow.

And with that decision, the first sparks of the coming confrontation began to flare, the silence of the chamber trembling with the promise of inevitable combat.