The Circle of Runes pulsed at the center of the plateau, a heart of sickly green light etched into obsidian stone. Its glow stretched outward, searing the molten ground beneath Thomas's claws and illuminating the grotesque forms that surrounded it. Every fallen human who had survived the descent was drawn here, some by instinct, some by the pull of the runes themselves. Thomas could feel the power thrumming in the air, tugging at his very bones, whispering promises of strength and survival.
Around him, demons writhed in forms both horrifying and familiar. A man with elongated limbs and dozens of jagged mouths along his arms clawed endlessly at the ground, gnawing on shadows that weren't there. A woman's body twisted into serpentine curves, eyes glowing with insatiable hunger, coils wrapping and unwrapping as though feeding upon herself. Even the meekest of the fallen had been reshaped—crawling shadows that whispered fragments of their old lives, shivering in fear or fascination as they circled the runes.
Thomas approached cautiously, claws scraping against the jagged rock. The air vibrated around the Circle, resonating with a frequency that set his molten veins thrumming. A part of him—the fragment that remembered Brackenford, his family, the simple life he had lived—screamed to turn away, to flee. But another part, darker and instinctual, demanded that he step closer, to claim the Circle's attention, to test his strength.
A low hiss cut through the air. Thomas turned to see a figure slithering toward him, her body twisting unnaturally as she moved. Liora. He didn't know her name—not yet—but her form was unmistakable. Lust had remade her into something serpentine, her eyes glimmering with hunger and cunning. "You've survived," she whispered, her voice both human and alien, reverberating through the hot air. "Few do. Most break before they even reach the Circle."
Thomas flexed his claws, testing the strange power that pulsed through him. The veins along his arms flared bright red. "I—what am I now?" His voice sounded strange even to him, deeper, harsher, a growl threading through the syllables.
Liora's eyes glimmered. "What you were is gone. What you are… is hunger, instinct, power. But fragments of your old self remain. That is a weakness—and a weapon."
Before he could respond, a new figure emerged from the smoke: Eddric, a gaunt, long-limbed demon with fingers like jagged spears. Greed had remade him into something insatiable. His eyes darted constantly, and he clutched what appeared to be glowing crystals of molten fire. "Keep moving," he hissed, voice like grinding stone. "The Circle tests everyone. Obey, or be consumed."
Thomas watched as the runes pulsed, drawing the nearest demons forward. Some fell to their knees, arms raised, their forms contorting even further. Others writhed and screamed, twisted beyond recognition, until the Circle's glow consumed them completely. Thomas felt the pull in his chest, a compulsion he could neither resist nor fully control.
He took a tentative step closer. The heat from the runes burned along his claws, but he felt no injury. The Circle's power was strange, almost sentient. It recognized strength, it recognized instinct, and perhaps it recognized the fragments of humanity within him. He raised a hand experimentally, claws quivering, and the runes flared brighter, humming with energy that threaded into his veins.
A new scream tore the air. Thomas spun to see a figure collapse at the Circle's edge. A man, once a farmer, was being consumed and reshaped, bones snapping and reforming, skin hardening into cracked obsidian. His eyes glowed with molten fury as he rose, a reflection of his life's wrath and violence. Thomas felt a shiver of recognition—not just for the man, but for himself. This was what awaited anyone who fell, anyone who survived. The Circle did not merely punish; it created, shaped, and enslaved.
A crawling shadow brushed against his side—Seraphine. She had been meek in life, but the Circle had remade her into a whispering, slithering form. Her eyes held a quiet intelligence, a spark of awareness that made Thomas wary. "Do not fight it," she murmured, voice barely a whisper. "It tests you. It knows who you were. And it will take more than strength to survive."
Thomas swallowed, molten veins throbbing. Survival meant embracing the Circle, yet he could feel the fragment of his old self resisting. Memory and instinct warred within him: the memory of a life lived in simple morality clashing against the raw hunger for dominance and survival the Circle demanded.
"Then we learn," he said finally, voice a growl, claws flexing. The runes pulsed at his words, resonating with approval—or perhaps curiosity. Around him, demons continued their transformations, screams rising in chorus, each a grotesque reflection of human sin. Thomas realized that every moment here was a test: of strength, of instinct, and of morality.
Eddric hissed. "Do you feel it? The hunger? The need to obey? Don't deny it. The Circle feeds on restraint as much as it does on weakness. Control it, or it controls you."
Thomas nodded slowly, understanding more than he wanted to admit. The Circle of Runes was not just a place; it was a crucible, a forge that reshaped the fallen into weapons, predators, monsters. Some would rise as leaders, some would break entirely. Every fragment of memory, every instinct, every sin would be twisted into form and function.
He stepped closer still. The heat was intense now, yet it no longer hurt. His claws flexed, molten veins burning bright, and he realized that the Circle had acknowledged him. Survival here would demand mastery—not only of his body, but of the instincts, sins, and memories that pulsed within him.
Liora slithered beside him, eyes glimmering with a mixture of amusement and challenge. "Good. You are awake. You will learn quickly, or you will be broken."
Thomas glanced around at the transformed humans, the screaming, the crawling shadows, the grotesque forms of sins made flesh. He shivered—and yet, somewhere deep inside, a spark of determination flared. He would survive. He would endure. He would rise.
The Circle pulsed brighter, humming in response, and Thomas understood at last that the fall had ended—but the true test had only just begun.