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The corridor pulsed with a low hum, as though the walls themselves were breathing. Ethereal lights flickered overhead, casting dreamy colors that shifted with each step Verena and Vivienne took. The floor beneath their feet shimmered faintly, as if not entirely solid, like they walked across the surface of a stilled lake.
Vivienne's grip tightened around Verena's hand, her eyes wide as she scanned the ever-shifting hallway. "This place feels... wrong," she whispered.
"No shit," Verena muttered, her voice dry but tinged with tension. "Trial Two's not supposed to be this twisted."
It was meant to be a battle trial—clear-cut objectives, enemies to fight, something you could stab. But this? This was psychological warfare wrapped in dreamscape aesthetics.
