The door creaked open, revealing another chamber ahead. I stepped through cautiously, half-expecting another oversized nightmare to jump out at me.
But there were no monsters. No skittering horrors.
Instead, I was met with a maze.
The floor stretched out in front of me, made entirely of large stone tiles, each roughly the size of a doorway. Beyond them, another door stood at the far end of the chamber—my way forward.
That was the good news.
The bad news? Something was off.
I crouched down, running a hand over the tile closest to me. Smooth. Polished. Normal. But the moment my fingers left it, I saw it—a faint shimmer, like the floor itself was… enchanted.
I rubbed my temples. “Okay. Yeah. This is definitely a puzzle.”
Rushing ahead blindly was not an option. If I’d learned anything from my research, it was that Chosen who dived into things unprepared usually ended up dead.
I took a step back, scanning the room. The tiles stretched too far to just guess my way across. Which meant… there had to be a trick to this. Some kind of pattern. A hint.
I turned my gaze to the walls and ceiling.
Sure enough, there it was.
Carved into the stone above the doorway were patterns—lines of symbols, almost like constellations, arranged in sequences that didn’t quite make sense at first glance. Some pointed forward. Others curved to the side or doubled back. Some seemed completely random.
“Okay,” I muttered, rubbing my chin. “So this is a test of observation. The right path is here somewhere. I just have to find it.”
I took another slow breath, forcing myself to focus.
The wrong tile would probably teleport me back to the start, reset the whole maze if I screwed up too many times, or worse, kill me. If I wanted to get through this in one try, I had to be smart.
No jumping in. No reckless mistakes.
I narrowed my eyes at the patterns on the wall, trying to decipher them.
Time to figure this out.
 
I tapped my fingers against my thigh, staring at the floor like it was some smug chess master, daring me to make the first move.
I unstrapped a dagger from my belt, weighing it in my palm. Maybe I could test the tiles without committing. I tossed the blade lightly onto the tile in front of me, watching it clatter across the stone.
Nothing happened.
I frowned. Maybe it was too light? That made sense. If this thing only reacted to an actual Chosen’s weight, then throwing things at it wouldn’t tell me much.
I let out a slow breath and turned my attention back to the walls.
There had to be a clue. No way the system just expected me to guess.
I traced my gaze across the far wall, where a large constellation of symbols had been etched into the stone. Some looked familiar—arrows, abstract patterns that almost resembled footprints. Others were more cryptic, forming a swirling path across the surface.
“Alright,” I muttered, tilting my head. “What are you trying to tell me?”
The symbols didn’t seem random. The arrows pointed in different directions, forming a rough sequence—like instructions. A map? Maybe the correct tiles were marked by the same pattern somewhere on the floor.
I shifted my focus downward, scanning the tiles more closely.
And then I saw it.
Some of the tiles had faint carvings. Not obvious, not noticeable at a glance, but subtly etched into the surface. Little imprints that matched the sequence on the wall.
My pulse picked up. That was it. That had to be it.
I straightened, trying not to get ahead of myself. The path was there. It was just a matter of following the right symbols, stepping in the right order.
“Alright,” I groaned. “Let’s hope I’m as smart as I think I am.”
 
I took my first step onto the tile, holding my breath like the floor was about to swallow me whole.
Nothing happened.
Okay. Good start.
I tried to stay calm, trying to ignore the way my heart hammered against my ribs. The tiles felt solid beneath my feet, but I knew better than to trust that. One wrong step, one stupid mistake, and I could end up on the wrong side of a trap.
I flicked my gaze up to the constellation of symbols on the far wall, tracing the next step in the sequence. A tile one space diagonally to the right.
I stepped.
The tile shifted just slightly beneath my boot, and my stomach dropped.
For half a second, I was sure I’d screwed up—my muscles tensed, bracing for some kind of punishment. A teleport. A fall. Instant death.
But the tile held.
I let out a shaky breath and kept moving.
One step. Then another.
Each time, I checked the wall first, making absolutely sure I was following the right sequence. The wrong tiles were everywhere—if I wasn’t careful, one misstep could send me back to square one.
Or trigger something way worse.
I tested each tile with the edge of my boot before shifting my weight fully onto it. The system was cruel, but it was also consistent. If the symbols were guiding me, then I just had to trust them.
Easier said than done when every muscle in my body was screaming at me to not move.
I reached the halfway point and hesitated, glancing behind me. The path I’d taken was clear, a winding sequence of safe tiles leading back to the start.
Ahead, the last few steps waited.
The air felt heavier. My legs shook slightly from the tension.
I sucked in another breath. Keep moving. You’re almost there.
I forced my foot onto the next safe tile. Then another.
Five more.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
And then, finally—solid ground.
The last tile clicked beneath my boot, and I nearly collapsed right then and there.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
I made it.
I was through.
I let out a choked, relieved laugh, running a hand down my face as my body finally let go of the panic.
“Okay,” I breathed. “Cool. Love that. Let’s never do that again.”
Ahead, the next door stood waiting.
One challenge down. No doubt, way worse ones to come.
 
The moment I stepped into the next chamber, I knew something was wrong.
The air shifted—not colder, not heavier, just… different.
Then my shadow moved.
Not just moved—detached.
I watched, frozen, as the darkness at my feet pulled itself free, stretching upward, shaping itself into something humanoid.
Me.
My own face stared back at me, smirking like it had just figured out the punchline to a joke I hadn’t heard yet. Its form wasn’t solid—more like living ink, its edges shifting and flickering, like candlelight that couldn’t quite stay still.
“Well, well, well,” it said, its voice just like mine, but lower. Smoother. “You actually made it this far. I’ll be honest, I had my doubts.”
I tensed, feeling my hand drift toward my dagger. “Oh good,” I muttered. “A talking existential crisis. Just what I needed.”
The shadow laughed—my laugh. But stretched, empty, wrong.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” it said, stepping closer, mirroring my stance perfectly. “You can walk away. Right now. No scars, no pain, no dying in some forgotten dungeon.”
I narrowed my eyes. “How?”
The shadow’s grin widened, and something about it sent a chill down my spine.
“I take your place,” it said smoothly. “I walk the path. Face the trials. Make the choices.” It spread its arms, shifting like liquid darkness. “And you? You go free. Go home. Wake up tomorrow like none of this ever happened.”
I frowned. “You take my place?” I gestured vaguely at it. “Not to point out the obvious, but you’re not me. What happens when the system figures that out?”
It chuckled, tilting its head. “Do you really think the system cares? As long as someone completes the trial, it’s satisfied.”
I didn’t answer right away.
Because here’s the thing…
I was tired.
I was done with this already. If I could just skip to the end, walk out of here without throwing myself into another life-or-death situation, wasn’t that the smarter option?
“What happens if I say yes?” I asked.
The shadow’s grin widened. “Then you get to go home. To your mother. To your siblings. You get to wake up tomorrow and pretend none of this ever happened.”
It took another step forward, lowering its voice.
“You never have to fight. Never have to struggle. Never have to wonder if your next step will be your last.”
That sounded… nice.
Too nice.
I paused. If I let the shadow take my place… was that failing the trial? Would the system just kill me, anyway?
Or would it really let me walk away?
The shadow saw the hesitation. And it pounced.
“You’re already doubting yourself,” it said, circling me now, its voice slipping under my skin like smoke. “You were terrified of that spider. You barely made it through the puzzle. What do you think is coming next, Felix?”
It leaned in, whispering now.
“You think you can survive it?”
I clenched my fists.
“You’ve been lucky,” it continued. “That’s all. And luck? It runs out.”
I swallowed hard.
It wasn’t wrong.
I could feel its offer settling into my bones, curling into the part of me that wanted to give up. That wanted to be safe.
But…
I thought about Mom.
About how she held my face in her hands before I left. How she whispered—“Come home.”
If I walked away now… Would it even be me going back? Or just a shadow of me?
I took a deep breath, forcing my body to relax. Then I turned to face my shadow, arms crossed.
“Nah,” I said. “Think I’ll pass.”
The shadow tilted its head, its smile never quite fading. “Are you sure?”
“No,” I admitted. “But if I let you take my place, then I never get to be sure, do I?”
For the first time, the shadow’s expression flickered. Just for a second.
Then, just as quickly, it laughed.
“Fine,” it said, stepping back, arms spread wide. “Your choice.”
It melted into the ground—but it didn’t disappear.
I still felt it there, trailing me, watching.
And then, in a whisper only I could hear—
“Don’t worry. I’ll be right here.”
“Every step of the way.”
I tightened my jaw, forced my legs to move.
The next door waited. And so did my shadow.
 
The door creaked open just enough for me to peer inside, and the second I saw what was waiting for me, my stomach dropped.
A goblin den.
The room was massive, a sprawling cavern filled with crude wooden structures, jagged rock formations, and the flickering glow of torches wedged into cracks in the walls. Goblins were everywhere. I couldn’t see them all, but I had to guess at least twenty. Maybe more.
I blew out a sharp breath, gripping the edge of the doorway. How hadn’t they seen me? I wasn’t exactly the sneakiest person in existence, and goblins weren’t blind.
Then I saw it—a haze shimmering faintly around the doorway. A barrier? An incantation? Something was keeping me hidden.
Well, that was something, at least.
It didn’t change the fact that I was dead if I walked in there.
I wasn’t some legendary warrior. I wasn’t some high-level Chosen with a flaming sword and an army at my back. I had two daggers. That was it.
And against twenty goblins?
Yeah, no.
A whisper curled into my ear like smoke, sending a shiver down my spine.
“Should’ve taken my offer.”
I clenched my jaw as my shadow rose up beside me, flickering at the edges.
“You’re not getting through this room alive, Felix.” Its voice was low, almost amused. “You barely survived a single spider. You think you can handle a den full of goblins?”
I stayed quiet, tightening my grip on my dagger.
“You’ll die here.” The whisper was closer now, colder. “You’ll never see your mother again. Aria and Leon will grow old, telling stories about the brother they lost. Maybe they’ll visit your grave—if they even have a body to bury.”
My breath came sharp and unsteady, my pulse pounding in my ears.
“You should’ve walked away when you had the chance.”
My fingers twitched. My brow furrowed.
Then, through gritted teeth, I cursed at the shadow.
It laughed softly—then melted back into the ground, disappearing into the edges of the room.
Silence.
I let out a slow, measured breath, forcing my shoulders to steady. The goblins were still there. Still moving, still snarling and growling to each other in that guttural language I didn’t understand.
I needed a plan.
Because stepping into that room meant suicide.
 
I pressed myself against the door, forcing my breathing to slow. Think. Don’t panic. There had to be something I could use, some weakness I could exploit.
The goblins weren’t just standing around waiting to kill me—they had patterns. Some huddled around a firepit, gnawing on bones and arguing with eachother. Others patrolled between the crude wooden shacks scattered across the den. A few were perched on rock formations, lookouts, scanning the area but never glancing toward the doorway.
Good. That meant whatever enchantment was hiding me was working. But if I made too much noise or did something stupid? It wouldn’t matter.
I let my eyes roam the cavern.
Torches lined the walls, their flickering light casting deep shadows against the jagged rock formations. Crates and barrels were stacked in the corners—probably stolen goods, knowing goblins. And in the far left of the room, a rickety bridge connected two ledges above the cavern floor.
Alright. I had options.
Fighting was out. No way I was taking on twenty goblins with two daggers and a prayer. That left stealth.
I grimaced. I didn’t exactly feel like a Shadowborn, but if the system had forced me into this path, then fine. I’d play its game.
I pulled the cloak tight around me, sinking into the shadows as best as I could.
Then I moved.
Step light. Breathe slow. No sudden movements.
I crept forward, sticking to the darker patches of the cavern, ducking low behind a stack of crates. A goblin strolled past barely a few feet away, scratching at its stomach and muttering to itself.
I froze, certain it’d hear my heart hammering against my ribs.
It sniffed the air.
I tensed.
Then, with a grunt, it turned away.
I kept moving.
Every step was agony. My legs ached from how slow I had to go, how carefully I had to place my feet to avoid knocking the loose gravel scattered across the ground.
Another goblin wandered into my path, its beady eyes flicking around the cavern. I pressed myself against the rock, barely hidden in the shadows, waiting.
It stopped.
Sniffed again.
I held my breath, grip tightening around my dagger.
Then another goblin called out from across the den, and the first one grumbled and shuffled away.
I let out a breath very, very slowly.
Almost there.
 
The final stretch was the worst—an open space, barely any cover between me and the far door. A goblin lookout perched on a rock above it, scanning the cavern lazily, a rusty spear leaning against its shoulder.
If it looked down at the wrong moment—
No. Don’t think about that. Just move.
I started to shift forward, timing my steps with the firepit’s crackling, using the occasional bursts of goblin chatter to mask any noise I made.
But as I crept closer, my instincts screamed at me—this wasn’t going to work.
Too much open ground. Too many sharp little eyes.
I needed a distraction.
Slowly, carefully, I crouched down and picked up a small rock.
I weighed it in my palm. Not too big, not too small. Enough to make noise.
Then, with a careful flick of my wrist, I hurled it toward the far side of the cavern.
The rock bounced off a boulder with a sharp clack—then, because the universe had a sense of humor, it ricocheted straight into the back of a goblin’s head.
The goblin yelped, staggering forward, clutching the spot where it got hit.
It spun around furiously, eyes landing on the closest goblin.
The poor guy was just minding his own business, poking at the fire with a stick.
Apparently, that didn’t matter.
The first goblin snarled something guttural, pointing wildly at its head, then at the second goblin.
The second goblin blinked. “Huh?”
Then it got punched in the face.
That was all it took.
In seconds, the cavern exploded into chaos.
Goblin after goblin jumped into the fray, screeching accusations, swinging weapons, biting, scratching, tackling each other like feral animals.
A chair went flying.
Someone got suplexed into the firepit.
Somehow, I had just started an all-out brawl.
I stood there for half a second, watching in stunned silence.
Then I did what any sane person would do.
I moved.
I sprinted for the door, weaving between overturned crates and scattered weapons, slipping past the distracted goblins completely unseen.
Reaching the exit, I pressed my back against it, sucking in a slow breath.
Still alive.
Still unseen.
And behind me?
Absolute goblin carnage.
I allowed myself a small, satisfied smirk.
“Just like I planned.”
With shaking hands, I eased the door open, slipping through the narrow gap.
And then, finally, I was through.
The door clicked shut behind me, and I nearly collapsed. My breath came in quiet, ragged gasps, my whole body wired with adrenaline.
I made it.
Unseen.
And I couldn’t help but think a real Shadowborn would have been proud.