The moment all three of them stepped inside, the door behind them let out another soft hiss and slid shut with eerie precision. The sound was quiet, almost polite, but it still sent a shiver up Traebus’s spine.


    He immediately spun around, expecting to see the metallic slab still behind them.


    It wasn’t.


    Instead, the hallway stretched out into infinity.


    “…Nope.” Traebus backed up so fast he nearly tripped over Sparky, who let out a startled trill. “Nope nope nope! That door was right there! Where—why—how?!”


    Dusk flicked an image of him running in circles like a panicked bird. Not helpful.


    Traebus turned in frantic circles, pressing his hands against the smooth, featureless wall. “It’s a trick! Right? Just some weird illusion magic? It has to be—” He slammed his palm against the wall, hoping to find a seam, a button, something that would confirm this wasn’t actually happening. But all he got was an indifferent, echoing thud.


    He turned to his companions with wild eyes. “Guys, I think the hallway ate the door.”


    Dusk chuffed, clearly unimpressed with his growing hysteria. Sparky, meanwhile, flicked his tail in an unimpressed Really? motion.


    “I mean, this isn’t normal! Hallways don’t just rearrange reality when you walk through them! This is—this is rude!” Traebus waved his arms around. “I don’t go sealing doors behind people after they enter my house!”


    Dusk sent him a very dry mental image: You literally built an automatic stone gate for the murder chickens.


    Traebus scowled. “That’s different! That was for security!”


    Sparky trilled and scampered forward, sniffing at the floor, seemingly unbothered by the fact that physics had just abandoned them. Dusk, ever the pragmatic one, flicked a sense of forward is the only way now, and gestured his snout down the endless hallway.


    Traebus groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, sure. Let’s just walk deeper into the impossible maze. What could possibly go wrong?”


    Muttering to himself about ‘rude architecture’ and ‘hallways with egos,’ he straightened up and took a deep breath. “Fine. But I swear, if this place starts shifting walls on us, I will punch it.”


    With that, the trio began their cautious trek down the endless, surreal corridor, Traebus grumbling the whole way.


    For what felt like hours—or possibly only minutes, given how time seemed to be behaving as oddly as space—they walked. The hallway never changed. The perfectly smooth, featureless walls stretched on in both directions, illuminated by the same eerie, sourceless light. No doors, no intersections, just the endless monotony of sterile stone.


    Traebus rubbed his temples. "Okay, I’ve decided. Whoever built this place? I don’t like them."


    Sparky trilled in agreement. Dusk, however, was focused on something ahead, his frills twitching slightly.


    Without warning, the featureless hallway ended.


    One moment, there was nothing but endless corridor. The next, they stood at the threshold of a vast chamber, stretching far beyond the reach of their sight. The ceiling was impossibly high, shrouded in dim haze, and the ground before them was covered in smooth, rounded shapes.


    Traebus squinted. "Are those…?"


    He stepped forward cautiously, holding up a hand to stop Sparky from bounding ahead. As his eyes adjusted, the realization hit him all at once.


    Eggs.


    Rows upon rows of massive eggs filled the cavern, their surfaces a strange dull white, veined with faint, pulsing lines of silver. Each was nearly as tall as his waist, packed together in clusters. The eerie lighting from the hallway didn’t seem to reach them directly, yet they glowed faintly on their own, casting a ghostly ambiance throughout the chamber.


    Traebus let out a slow breath. "Okay. Well. This is… this is fine. This is fine. Not ominous at all. Nope."


    Dusk chuffed, flicking him a strong impression of we should not be here.


    Sparky trilled softly and scampered behind Traebus’s leg, his frills puffing slightly in unease.


    "I mean, there’s a chance these aren’t what they look like, right?" Traebus said, his voice only slightly wobbly. "Maybe they’re just—uh—really weird storage pods? Or oversized decorative stones?"


    Dusk did not dignify that with a response.


    Sparky trilled quietly, his tail flicking nervously.


    Traebus exhaled through his nose, muttering, "I swear, if one of these starts twitching, I’m out. I don’t care if I have to tunnel through the walls, I will—"


    He hesitated, then added under his breath, "You know, I’ve seen a horror story that started like this before… and I really don’t want to be the guy who sticks his face too close."


    Dusk gave him a slow, deliberate stare before flicking him the unmistakable mental image of then do not stick your face too close.


    Traebus sighed. "Right. Noted."


    Steeling himself, he took another cautious step forward, determined to figure out exactly what kind of trouble they had walked into.


    The chamber remained utterly still. No shifting, no twitching, no skittering horrors erupting from the darkness. Just eggs. Lots and lots of eggs.


    Traebus exhaled. "Okay… so maybe it''s abandoned? Or… in sleep mode? I don''t know. I don''t want to know."


    Dusk, ever the skeptic, flicked a mental image of their previous encounters with things that had seemed dormant. None of those had ended peacefully.


    "Right, fair point," Traebus admitted. "Let''s just—"


    Before he could finish his sentence, the world blinked.


    One second, they were surrounded by the eerie egg-filled cavern. The next, they were back in the hallway.


    "WHAT." Traebus spun around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. Behind them, there was no vast chamber. No eggs. Just the same endless, featureless hallway stretching in both directions.


    Sparky let out a panicked trill. Dusk whipped his head from side to side, his frills flaring, but the hallway remained unchanged—like the cavern had never been there at all.


    "NO. Absolutely NOT. That is NOT how caves work!" Traebus waved his arms wildly. "We were just there! It was RIGHT THERE!" He stomped forward, smacking his hands against the smooth stone wall where the entrance had been. "WHAT IS THIS PLACE''S PROBLEM?!"


    Dusk flicked a firm mental impression: Do not like this.


    "Yeah, me neither, buddy!" Traebus threw his hands in the air. "But apparently, we don''t get a say in whether or not reality wants to cooperate today!"


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Sparky scrambled up onto Traebus''s shoulder, his tiny claws gripping tight as he let out a distressed series of clicks. The little lizard was very clear in his message: Leave. Now.


    Traebus pressed his forehead against the wall with a groan. "I hate magic doors. I hate magic hallways. I hate magic eggs. I hate this entire stupid, smug, physics-defying structure." He turned, throwing a helpless glare at Dusk and Sparky. "We didn''t even do anything! We just walked in!"


    Dusk chuffed, sending a slow, deliberate mental impression of we are being watched.


    Traebus stiffened. "You know what? That''s it. We''re leaving. Right now. No more exploring, no more poking weird things, no more casually stepping into haunted egg chambers that disappear!" He spun on his heel and marched down the hallway. "I don’t care if the door ate itself, we will find a way out, even if I have to punch the walls until something gives!"


    With no better options, Dusk and Sparky followed, their senses on high alert as they pressed forward into the maddening, ever-shifting corridor.


    Traebus, however, had reached his limit. He whirled around, threw his hands in the air, and bellowed at the hallway like a man who had truly had enough of its nonsense.


    "All right, you overgrown, smug, reality-defying trap of a hallway! I have had it! Do you hear me? Do you?! I do not like being played with! I am not some clueless adventurer who will blindly wander until I collapse from frustration! I am a problem solver—and if you do not start behaving, I will find a way to turn you into rubble!"


    Dusk let out a slow, exasperated chuff. Sparky covered his face with his tail, perhaps in secondhand embarrassment, perhaps in genuine fear of whatever Traebus was about to provoke.


    Traebus, undeterred, pointed aggressively at the air. "Do you know what I can do?! I have built bridges out of nothing, purified undrinkable water, and turned angry, oversized chickens into farm animals! If you think for one second that I won’t reduce this entire hallway to magically-infused gravel, you’ve got another thing coming! Because I will! I will blow holes in you until you have so many exits you won’t know what’s forward or backward anymore!"


    He took a breath, chest heaving, glaring at the ceiling as if daring it to respond.


    There was a long silence.


    Then, with an almost lazy hiss, a door slid open in the side of the hallway.


    Traebus blinked. "Oh."


    Sparky peeked out from under his tail, trilling in disbelief. Dusk’s frills twitched as he slowly turned to look at Traebus, sending a mental impression that was something between I cannot believe that worked and You are impossible.


    Traebus cleared his throat, straightened his coat, and nodded. "That’s what I thought."


    Without missing a beat, he strode confidently toward the newly revealed doorway, as if he had meant to do that all along. Dusk and Sparky exchanged a glance before sighing in unison and following him inside.


    As soon as they stepped inside, the door behind them hissed shut again. Traebus spun around just in time to see it vanish into the seamless wall. "Oh, come on! We just got out of hallway jail!" He ran his hands over the surface. Smooth. No handles, no grooves, no signs it had ever existed. "I swear this place has a vendetta against me."


    Dusk flicked a mild impression of resignation—this was becoming a theme.


    Traebus turned and finally took stock of the room. It looked, for lack of a better term, like a crude attempt at an office. There was a large, uneven stone slab serving as a desk, with scattered objects atop it. A rough chair—more of a chiseled rock with a seat—sat behind it. Stone shelves jutted from the walls, holding ancient-looking tools and various unidentifiable scraps of metal. It was like someone had tried to set up a workspace using caveman technology, but with hints of something more advanced woven into the design.


    Sparky trilled and hopped onto the desk, sniffing at what looked suspiciously like a broken metallic tablet. He poked it experimentally, then looked at Traebus, clearly unimpressed.


    "Yeah, buddy, I''m not sure what I expected either."


    Traebus stepped forward, reaching out to inspect the strange setup when—


    "I wouldn''t touch that if I were you."


    His blood froze.


    He whipped around so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet. Standing near the stone shelves, mandibles twitching, was the giant insect. It was holding a book.


    A book.


    Traebus''s brain stalled.


    Dusk’s frills snapped fully open in alarm. Sparky bolted behind Traebus’s leg, his frills crackling with static.


    The insect tilted its head, regarding them curiously, and then—


    It turned a page.


    Traebus gawked. "Oh, well, sure! Why not?! The giant bug reads now! Because of course it does!"


    The insect clicked its mandibles once. "Yes. I do."


    Traebus opened and closed his mouth, struggling to string together a coherent thought. "Right. Okay. So. You talk. You read. And you''re... here. In a caveman office. In a reality-breaking hallway. Care to explain any of that?"


    The insect slowly turned another page in its book. "Not particularly."


    Dusk let out a low huff of exasperation. Sparky, still peeking out from behind Traebus''s leg, flicked his tail in annoyance.


    Traebus ran a hand down his face. "Of course not. Why would I expect answers in a place designed purely to mess with me? That would be ridiculous."


    The insect regarded him with what could only be described as mild amusement. "You are an emotional creature."


    "You know what else is emotional? People who get trapped in weird underground structures where space and time mean nothing!" Traebus threw his hands up. "Just once, just once, I’d like something to make sense!" He pointed at the insect. "Starting with you. What are you? Some kind of ancient guardian? A really fancy security system? A bug that got a PhD?"


    The insect clicked its mandibles again. "I decline to comment."


    Traebus groaned. "Of course you do. Alright, fine. Bigger question: how do I get out of here? Preferably without getting erased from existence or dumped into another fun-filled hallway of existential horror."


    The insect finally closed its book, setting it carefully on the desk. "There is a way."


    "Oh, fantastic!" Traebus clapped his hands together. "Why do I feel like there''s a catch?"


    "Because there is." The insect gestured toward the far wall, which—of course—shimmered and split open into yet another doorway. "The exit lies beyond the trial chamber."


    Traebus narrowed his eyes. "Trial chamber?"


    "A test of wit, resilience, and survival. A place designed to separate the worthy from the unworthy."


    Sparky made a distressed chittering noise. Dusk’s frills twitched, already displeased with the direction this was heading.


    Traebus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Great. A trapped temple. Because why not? That’s exactly what I needed today."


    The insect made a vague clicking noise. "Your alternative is remaining here indefinitely."


    "Yeah, yeah, I get it." Traebus exhaled. "Alright. Bring on the ancient, probably-lethal nonsense. Let’s see if I can cheat my way through."


    The insect clicked its mandibles in what might have been amusement. "That would be impossible. However, I will enjoy watching you attempt."


    Before Traebus could respond, the insect raised one of its spindly legs and tapped the side of the wall. Without so much as a creak or a shimmer of magic, a door smoothly slid open—another door that, moments ago, had not existed at all.


    Traebus stared at it, his eye twitching. Then he turned back to the insect. Then back at the door. Then back at the insect.


    "Oh, sure! Now a door appears! Because of course it does!" He threw his hands up. "You couldn’t have just opened that five minutes ago, huh? Had to let me agonize over this ridiculous conversation first? Is this fun for you?"


    The insect tilted its head slightly. "Yes."


    Dusk let out a short, chuffing breath that Traebus was pretty sure was a lizard equivalent of a laugh. Sparky, emboldened by Traebus’s meltdown, trilled and flicked his tail in clear amusement.


    Traebus groaned, dragging his hands down his face. "I swear, if this trial chamber is just another hallway pretending to be clever, I’m going to lose my mind."


    Still grumbling, he stomped toward the newly revealed doorway, Dusk and Sparky following behind, while the insect—very patiently—watched him walk straight into whatever fresh nightmare awaited.


    "Welcome," the insect said in the same flat, unreadable tone, "to the Trial of the Temple of Doom."


    Traebus stopped mid-step. His hands curled into fists. Slowly, very slowly, he turned back toward the insect, his eye twitching dangerously. "Did you just—did you really just call it that?"


    The insect tilted its head slightly. "Yes."


    Traebus let out a slow, measured breath. Then, in a display of sheer emotional artistry, he lifted both hands and proceeded to perform a full, elaborate sequence of extremely rude gestures in the insect’s direction, some of which might not have been invented yet.


    The insect watched in silence, then nodded once. "You are very expressive."


    "You have no idea," Traebus growled. "And if I wasn’t absolutely sure you’d just ignore me, I’d have more words for you, sir."


    Dusk flicked a mental impression of calm down before you explode something. Sparky, however, watched Traebus’s outburst with great enthusiasm, his tiny tail flicking in amusement.


    Traebus sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Alright. Fine. Let''s just get this over with before I start throwing actual fireballs. But for the record, if this ‘temple’ starts throwing boulders or dropping us into pits, I am coming back here to personally lodge a complaint."


    The insect merely gestured toward the open door. "Noted. Proceed."


    Traebus crossed his arms and glared. "Just so we''re clear, when I say ''complaint,'' I don''t mean filing a strongly worded letter. I mean I will come back here and inflict immense bodily harm on you and everything you hold dear."


    The insect considered this for a moment, then gave a slow, deliberate nod. "Duly noted. The door remains open."


    Traebus grumbled something unintelligible under his breath, turned on his heel, and stomped toward the doorway like a man determined to commit violence against architecture. Dusk flicked him an impression of mild exasperation, while Sparky, thrilled by the drama, scurried along behind him, tail flicking excitedly.


    With his best ''I''m very unhappy about this'' attitude, Traebus stepped through, ready to face whatever nonsense awaited inside the so-called Trial of the Temple of Doom.