Standing in the illusory world, I felt a familiarity. This place was no stranger to me, in fact, I had been here before in both my dreams and again with the conflict of Fritz Haand in the theatre.
Beside me, Rex knelt on the ground. His form was still battered and bloody, but the agonizing torment that had wracked his body had subsided. His breaths came slower now, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm as he surveyed his surroundings with cautious curiosity.
With a trembling hand, Rex lifted his arm, his gaze fixed on the scarred tissue that marred his flesh. The effects of turning and spiralling into madness had dissipated, leaving behind only faint traces of pain and exhaustion.
"What did you do?" Rex's voice was hoarse, his tone tinged with disbelief as he struggled to comprehend the sudden shift in his condition. "Where are we?"
I remained silent, my mind racing with questions and uncertainties. What had I done? How had I managed to transport us to this place again? This must be the Pocket Watch's doing.
This place, this illusory world, also seemed to hold the potential to negate the negative effects of losing control too. To offer solace, as Rex's condition was getting better by the second.
As I pondered the mysteries of the illusory world, my attention was drawn to the shifting sea of cogs that stretched out before me, a mesmerizing display of cosmic beauty. Each cog turned and interlocked with the others in perfect harmony, creating a symphony of motion that seemed to pulse with a life of its own.
But amidst the swirling sea of cogs, my gaze was drawn to something in the distance on the horizon.
A figure. One with long cascading crimson hair that billowed in the phantom breeze.
As the figure turned to face me from afar, a chill swept through the air, sending shivers down my spine.
A cold sweat broke out on my forehead and back, the hairs on my neck standing on end. Instinctively, I averted my gaze, unable to meet the figure's stare.
With a sense of urgency, I turned to Rex, my fingers closing around the pocket watch clutched in his hand. Without hesitation, I deactivated the illusory world, willing us both back to reality.
As the world around us shifted and warped, I felt a sense of relief wash over me. Opening my eyes, I found myself back in the dimly lit room of the Stanway Estate, Rex kneeling beside me with a look of bewilderment on his face.
Looking around, I saw Fleur and Caius in the same spot as when I had left, their expressions unchanged as if no time had passed at all.
Fleur rushed over to me, her concern etched across her features as she took a look over my hand and arm. The same area where Rex had the scaring and damage from the Pocket Watch. "What happened, are you ok?" she asked.
Caius knelt down beside Lucas, offering a reassuring hand as he helped him regain consciousness. Lucas groaned softly, his movements sluggish as he struggled to sit up.
I touched my nose gingerly, wincing as I felt the sticky warmth of blood staining my fingertips. "It's nothing," I muttered, brushing off Fleur's concern. "Just a bloody nose."
The adrenaline that had been coursing through me this entire time must be slowly wearing off now.
Turning to look down at Rex, Fleur passed by me and went up to him.
"This isn't what King would have wanted," she remarked softly, her gaze lingering on the wounded man before her.
Rex remained silent, his eyes downcast as if weighed down by the burden of his actions.
As I glanced around the room, my eyes fell upon Darius, who was finally coming to. The effects of the artifact, the coin, had taken its toll, leaving him weakened and vulnerable.
A small throb pulsed in my head, a dull ache that intensified with each moment. I reached up to touch the source of the pain in my head, only to feel a cold and sticky sensation. My hand-bandaged wound was now sodden with blood.
But this pain was different, sharper and more insistent than the dull ache of my injuries. It felt as if something were pressing against my skull, a relentless pressure that refused to abate. It couldn't just be the adrenaline wearing off.
With an unexpected wave of dizziness, I stumbled backward, my vision swimming as the room spun around me. My stomach churned uneasily, a queasy sensation rising in my throat.
Fleur's voice sounded distant, a faint echo in the haze of my thoughts. "We need to get out of here," she urged, her words barely registering amidst the chaos unfolding around us.
But before I could respond, a sharp pain lanced through my abdomen, doubling me over in agony. Clutching my stomach, I gasped for breath, the metallic taste of bile rising in my mouth.
And then, without warning, I vomited, the contents of my empty stomach spilling onto the floor in a wet and sickening cascade.
"Ah shit," I muttered between gasps, my voice barely audible to my own ears.
Looking beside me, Lucas groaned softly too, his face pale and drawn as he struggled to keep himself upright. Fleur's expression was one of concern. She reached up and held her head and winced.
Darius, who had finally managed to stagger to his feet, swayed unsteadily as he surveyed the aftermath of our encounter. His gaze settled, looking up towards the second floor.
"Pink," he muttered, the word hanging heavy in the air.
As if summoned by Darius's words, a figure emerged from the shadows of the hallway on the second floor. He strode forward with a confident air, his presence commanding our attention.
My eyes widened as I took in the sight of the man before us all. Tall and impeccably dressed in a deep blue suit with pink stripes adorning one lapel. He exuded an aura of power just from his stride. His perfect blonde hair framed his sharp features, and his piercing pink eyes seemed to stare down the entire room.
It was Pink Stanway, the owner of the Estate.
Darius's voice rang out, louder this time, as he addressed the figure. "Pink!" he called, his tone tinged with a mixture of bitterness.
From his vantage point above, Pink called out in response, his voice sounding leathery smooth. "Darius, my old friend," he said with a wry grin. "How long has it been? Almost thirty years? This calls for celebration!"
Darius's retort was laced with sarcasm. "Oh yes, why don't we crack open a bottle for this occasion," he muttered under his breath, his gaze never wavering from Pink's form.
As Pink descended the staircase, his gaze swept over us, lingering on each member of our group in turn. There was a calculating gleam in his eyes, a hint of amusement playing at the corners of his lips.
Rex, still on his knees, met Pink's gaze with his remaining eye.
Pink's expression remained unreadable as he regarded Rex with disappointment over his face. "I expected better from you, Rex," he remarked. "Despite your resilience in resisting the Great Wraith's influence, you have still managed to disappoint me."
Rex's singular eye narrowed at Pink's words, but he said nothing in response.
With a subtle gesture, Pink pulled out a handkerchief and covered his mouth, the gesture a silent rebuke to Rex's sorry state.
"Clean yourself up, will you?" Pink's voice was cool and detached, the words carrying a weight of authority as he addressed Rex.
As Pink had his head turned away, I managed to hear footsteps from over my disoriented state coming from outside the broken entranceway.
Through the dismantled doorway emerged a familiar figure, his presence quiet yet now noticeable.
He had a slender face framed by short black hair and a monocle on his right eye, it was Wakley Weber.
But Pink had noticed him too.
With Wakley's sudden appearance, the nausea and dizziness that had plagued me started to dissipate, sending a wave of relief coursing through me.
Before anyone could react, Wakley's nose began to bleed profusely. Crimson droplets starting to drip down his chin. The sight seemed to unsettle Pink, his usual composure faltering for the briefest of moments
With a sudden, unnerving twist, Pink spun around, almost losing his balance in the process. His movements were jarring, almost unnatural.
Seizing the opportunity, Wakley looked over at Caius who swiftly pulled out my revolver and aimed at the chandelier suspended from the ceiling.
Resounding with a crack, the bullet struck true at the base, making definite cracks overhead as it started to come from its hinges.
Pink's attention snapped back to Wakley, his eyes widening in alarm. With a swift motion, he darted toward the stairs to create distance between him.
As Pink made his move, I felt a strange sensation. The entire room started to expand and warp around us, creating an unnatural distance between Wakley and Pink that seemed to break the laws of what was physically possible.
The room shifted and warped around us in palpable intensity, and as Pink arrived at the bottom of the stairs, the chandelier broke free from its hinges and hurtled down towards the red carpet. It arrived with a deafening crash scattering tiny shards of glass everywhere.
Wakley, his cloak billowing around him, dashed towards the fallen chandelier with an agility that belied his injuries.
With a swift motion, he threw his cloak over the shattered remnants, concealing himself from Pink's line of sight who had climbed the stairs to the second floor.
Out of nowhere, I felt a sudden compulsion to look towards Wakley, a sense of urgency coursing through me.
As my gaze locked onto him, I watched in astonishment as he unveiled a mirror-like object embedded within his metallic palm.
In an instant, I found my gaze drawn to the mirror's reflection despite my surroundings shifting and warping in an unsettling display around me.
But as I glanced into the mirror from a distance, I saw myself on the carpet in the Stanway estate as I was now. Yet in my peripheral, I was anywhere but in the estate anymore.
Wakley proceeded to close the mirror in his palm and a disorientation washed over me for a moment. My reflection looking at myself in the estate vanished leaving me temporarily confused. Where was I now?
With a shake of my head, I looked around for a second to try and make sense of my surroundings. But to my astonishment, I realized that I was no longer in the opulent Stanway Estate. Instead, I found myself in a smaller wooden room with a thin bed and a circular window to the outside.
Beside me, Fleur, Caius, Darius and Lucas were still not only in the state they were just a second ago in the estate, but their expressions mirrored my confusion too.
Wakley wiped the blood coming from his nose with a grimace of pain. "That should do it," he muttered.
Turning his gaze towards me, his eyes bore into mine. "I told you not to see Rex," he said in a serious tone.
And with that message, Wakley turned on his heel and left the room, leaving us to grapple with the aftermath of his interference.
My adrenaline had started to subside and as I tried to get up again, my knees grew weaker under the weight of exhaustion and pain that started to kick in.
I started to notice the sharp pain in my chest from broken ribs as each breath I took began to feel like a struggle.
Desperately, I tried to push myself back up, to regain control of my faltering body, but my efforts were in vain this time. The darkness closed in around me, swallowing me whole as my vision blurred.
Through the haze, I could hear Caius's voice calling out my name.
"Eli, Eli? Elias!"
But the sound seemed to grow fainter, slipping further and further beyond my grasp.
And then, with a final half gasp, I succumbed to the overwhelming tide of unconsciousness.