On a familiar platform, suspended atop crimson waters, Alex sat in a lotus position.
Her eyes fluttered open after a lengthy close. She took in a gulp of air, a shabby attempt to calm her subtle palpitations. The second stage had come to an uneventful close, however, the next stage would be anything but peaceful for her.
She needed to let go of her emotions, and her fears, submerging herself in a cocoon of temporary tranquillity. Only in absolute serenity could she survive what would come next.
°°°
"So? What are we doing next? Is it something fun ?" His playful cerulean orbs shimmered with obvious anticipation, hidden beneath was a dab of undiluted madness.
" Isaiah, we won't be doing this one together." Elijah's chilly deep blue eyes settled on his brother, who suddenly deflated. His previously bubbly demeanour turned sullen.
"What?" Isaiah's defined features pulled into a tight frown. He looked to the third entrance- made by a parted waterfall of blood- with unconcealed fury.
" They want to separate us?! And you're so calm?" Isaiah roared. He turned to look at his calm brother, his confusion evident.
" A mind game." Elijah was still unperturbed, only passing a slight glance towards the inviting cave of pitch black. He raised his index finger and tapped his brother's forehead.
"The next stage is an individual test of the mind. There are two possibilities. One, you'll face your past trauma or two, they'll conjure a random horror for you to live through." Isaiah's face quickly became neutral, cold even.
" That won't be a problem for us then, will it brother?"
°°°
Avery Ming walked towards the third entrance without so much as a hint of fear, her katana tightly gripped by her right hand. She did not need to know what lay ahead, for she knew she alone would be enough to conquer it.
Her figure was soon swallowed by the unnatural darkness beneath a stream of red.
She was surprised to find herself in a barely lit room. The walls were black and short, making a tight space.
Right in front of her, a purple creature appeared. The very same one that, not long ago, initiated their journey through the stages.
"Avery Ming, out of all your group members, you are the only one to have come so far. Whether that is a blessing or a curse, you will soon find out."
The furry creature paused as if wondering why its ominous words did not affect the stone-faced girl.
"Well… The third stage is an individual mental challenge, so you can put away that weapon of yours. In this stage, there are two things you may see. A past trauma or a horrific scene of fiction."
It used its left hand, or paw, to point to the left wall. A gauge appeared on the previously blank surface instantaneously.
The meter had a pointer and was semi-circular in shape. The colours on the pointer went from dark green to white then to deep violet. White in the middle, dark green on the bottom left and deep violet on the bottom right.
In between these colours were lighter shades of the extremes. The pointer was currently in the pure white zone exactly.
" This here is an instrument that will be used to monitor any emotional fluctuations during your experience. You will not be able to see the item during your experience. Additionally, the moment the pointer reaches any of the two ends, you will perish immediately."
The cartoonish bear uttered such horrid things in a monotone manner. The lack of a proper speech facilitator was enough to make anyone shudder, coupled with its diabolical statements, yet Avery did not react even slightly.
"Please note, the decision of whether you will re-experience a past trauma or be thrown into a morbid scene is based on how horrific we judge any trauma you have, to be. As for rewards, the less the pointer moves, the more spirit shards you receive."
"And do take note, no matter what you see, none of what happens can affect you physically. That is all. Farewell, and may I see you again."
The bear vaporized into a flurry of purple specs, but Avery did not see that, as she had fallen on the ground the moment the creature stopped speaking.
°°°
"Papa! Where is Papa?" a sweet yet worried girl questioned her mother in fright.
The piercing sobs of a young boy grew louder, only to be drowned by a large boom now and then.
The mother, holed up against the wall, tears streaming, looked to her beautiful daughter who had asked her a question.
Her mother did not respond verbally. The gentle stream became a rushing wave, that was enough of an answer. As if understanding his mother's meaning, the little boy's sobs turned to roars, matching the explosions' intensities.
The girl looked at her mother and her younger brother, worry twisting her features. Within the basement, there were no windows. Only the recurrent sound effects of a bomb's impact told her the situation was still dire.
Her brother's screams would get them killed. They would find them.
"Ima. Ima, stop it." Her tone was stern, anxiety coating her voice.
She walked up to him and attempted to forcefully shut him up. The boy, noticing her intentions, ran. She chased him, and her heart thudded loudly against her ribs, far louder than it normally did.
The boy's little body was inadequate to best his sister. She grabbed him, clamping his mouth shut.
She sighed in relief, yet the trepidation within her was not assuaged. As to why she was still drenched with worry, she did not know. Perhaps, she had hurt the boy. She looked down and checked him for injuries.
She stopped when she noticed the boy's dilated pupils, an expression of shock on his baby face. Then, she followed the boy's gaze.
Her shoulders dropped; her heart stopped; her mouth went dry.
A man, one akin to a living monster, stood beside her dead mother. The first thing she noticed was the colours he wore. The man in front of her wore the colours of the terrors plaguing their country. That alone was enough to ignite an eruption of fear through her.
She quivered and shook; her mind choked by gut-wrenching terror. Her eyes darted round the room, there was no escape. She would die. Just like her mother. Afraid and useless, weak and pathetic, forgotten and a burden.
The man held a gun aimed directly at her brother. His ruthless expression struck a cord within the girl, a splash across her drying facilities, that possessed a cooling effect. All the fear drained from her face, leaving only pure hatred.
She lunged at him, ready to give her all to defend her family's honour, to show that she was not a worthless coward.
The man did not wait for her to reach him. The click of a pistol rang a death sentence that enacted its inevitable degree upon the courageous child. It intercepted her, causing her to crumple up, wilting like a once-active flower.
Another click echoed. Then another bullet zoomed through the air, hitting its target in the trespasser's skull.
Three corpses, a boy and his father stood in the basement of a ruined house. His father had come in time to rescue him, but Ima was not grateful.
Imani Oreto would forever blame himself for the death of his mother and sister