Although she had steeled herself for whatever would come, Inslee could not help but cringe when the diffuse light from the entryway behind her suddenly vanished. She was plunged into utter darkness and silence. If it were not for the fact that she could feel her eyelids blinking, Inslee would wonder if she had simply passed out. She debated whether she should feel her way forward in the utter blackness or stay put.
Make thy choice.
Inslee tensed up. She hadn't heard the voice; it was almost like she had felt it. But what did it mean? What choice?
Thou who hast entered must choose. Shouldst thou move forward, a level of difficulty and corresponding power as thy reward. Shouldst thou retreat, a curse for the temerity of entering unprepared. To fail the trials means death.
Inslee shuddered and bit her lip, but quickly tried to settle her mind. She came here because she was determined to survive. But what if she died in the tower? Wouldn't that be futile? Was there another way to save herself? As long as she was alive, there should be, right? But what about the curse? And at this point, was there really any way out?