There is no floor here.
No ceiling. No sky.
Only depth.
I don't fall. I drift.
As if the very concept of motion is being rewritten.
The colors around me aren't real. They shimmer like memories I've never had. I stretch out my hand, and for a moment—my skin reflects stars.
Not real stars.
Symbols shaped like stars.
The Core brought me here. But it no longer hums. No longer pulses.
It is inside me now.
Somewhere between my bones and breath, the Witness Core exists as a rhythm. A constant reminder that I've stepped beyond the world I built.
And into the world that built me.
---
A voice comes before the ground.
"Do you know what you are now?"
It doesn't echo. Because nothing here is hollow.
I turn.
No one.
But I feel the voice—woven through the air like thread through cloth.
Another step forward.
The world shifts again.
This time, a platform forms beneath me—smooth, clear, circular. Symbols etched in living light ripple outward with each step I take.
The Core would've logged every pattern. But there is no logging here.
Only witnessing.
And what I see next steals the breath from my soul.
---
A massive door floats before me. No hinges. No seams.
Just a slab of translucent energy, rotating slowly.
Etched into its surface: ∴◎ — the combined glyph of thought and threshold.
My hand moves toward it. Not because I want to. Because I must.
The voice returns.
"To pass through the Witness Gate is to abandon reason." "To see not what you believe… but what believes in you."
The moment I touch the door, light pours from it— Not outward. Inward.
Into me.
I scream—but there's no sound.
Memories I've never lived flood my mind. A desert with moons that blink like eyes. A city where buildings breathe. A battlefield where thoughts slice sharper than swords.
I fall to my knees.
My body isn't here—but the pain is real.
And in the center of it all—
A shape forms.
A being.
It walks toward me, cloaked in light and silence.
Its face is mine.
But older. And broken. And shining with clarity.
"Welcome, Lyan." "To the Gate."
And behind him—
An entire world unfurls.
One not made by gods.
But by witnesses.
Just like me.
---