Adrian awoke in silence, but it was not the comforting kind. It was the oppressive, suffocating silence of a place where time had no meaning and sound could not exist. He opened his eyes, but there was nothing to see—only darkness, infinite and formless. The ground beneath him felt both solid and nonexistent, as though he floated in a space between worlds.
For a moment, he wondered if this was death—if he had finally crossed into that other realm, beyond life and memory. But then he felt it, the faint pulse of something beneath him. It was as if the darkness itself had a heartbeat, slow and deliberate, vibrating through the void. He pushed himself up, his body aching, though he couldn't understand why. He had no memory of how he got here, only the sensation of being pulled into the mirror and the overwhelming sense of loss that had followed.
His thoughts were fractured, disjointed—memories flitting past him like shadows, too quick to grasp. He tried to focus, but his mind refused to obey, as though something was holding him back from understanding.
Then, a distant light appeared, a pinprick of brightness in the overwhelming black. It shimmered like a star in the night sky, impossibly far away yet drawing him toward it. Adrian hesitated for a moment, unsure if it was real or some trick of his mind, but there was nothing else. No other direction. No other choice.
He took a step toward the light, and the ground shifted beneath him. It wasn't like walking on solid earth—each step felt fluid, like walking through water. But he moved forward, one foot after the other, the light growing brighter with each step. The air around him seemed to hum, a low vibration that grew louder as he neared the source of the light.
As he approached, the light revealed itself to be coming from a doorway, an ornate arch carved into the very fabric of the darkness. The door was massive, towering above him, its surface covered in intricate patterns that seemed to shift and writhe as he stared at them. Symbols he couldn't recognize—ancient, unknowable—etched themselves into his mind, their meaning just out of reach.
Adrian reached for the door, his hand trembling as it brushed against the surface. The moment his fingers touched the cold, metallic surface, the door creaked open with a groaning sound that reverberated through the space. A bright, blinding light poured from the opening, forcing Adrian to shield his eyes as he stepped through.
On the other side, the world was different. He found himself standing in a vast, endless desert. The sky above was not a sky at all, but a swirling vortex of dark clouds, crackling with flashes of pale lightning. The ground beneath his feet was a fine, white sand that stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see. There was no horizon, no sun—only the endless, desolate expanse.
Yet, despite the emptiness, Adrian was not alone.
Figures moved in the distance, their forms barely distinguishable against the white sands. They walked in slow, deliberate patterns, their heads bowed as though weighed down by an unseen force. As Adrian moved closer, he saw them more clearly—people, hundreds of them, all wandering aimlessly through the desert. Their faces were blank, their eyes empty, as though their very souls had been stripped away.
Adrian's heart raced as he approached one of the figures, a woman with long, dark hair that hung limply around her face. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but the moment his fingers made contact, her body crumbled to dust, scattering into the wind. He stumbled back, watching in horror as the other figures around him began to dissolve as well, their forms disintegrating into nothingness.
The desert winds howled, picking up speed, carrying the ashes of the fallen figures into the air. Adrian shielded his face from the gusts, his mind reeling with confusion. What was this place? Why had he been brought here?
As the winds calmed, a voice echoed through the air, soft and distant, yet unmistakably familiar. "You're not ready, Adrian."
He turned, searching for the source of the voice, but there was nothing—only the empty expanse of the desert. The voice came again, louder this time, closer. "You're not ready to face it."
"Face what?" Adrian shouted into the void, his voice lost in the vastness. "What do you want from me?"
The ground beneath him began to tremble, and the sky above darkened further, the clouds swirling violently. From the center of the desert, a massive fissure opened, splitting the earth in two. A deep, guttural roar emerged from the chasm, a sound so primal and ancient that it sent shivers down Adrian's spine.
Something was coming. Something that had been waiting for him.
The ground gave way beneath Adrian's feet, and he fell, plummeting into the depths of the chasm. The air rushed past him, cold and biting, as he was swallowed by the boundless dark below. The roar grew louder, deafening, until it was the only thing he could hear, the only thing that existed.
And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the fall stopped. Adrian found himself suspended in the darkness, weightless, as though the universe itself had paused to observe him.
In the silence that followed, a figure emerged from the darkness—tall, cloaked, and faceless. Its presence was overwhelming, its aura one of pure malice.
"You've come far," the figure said, its voice a cold whisper. "But there is still much more to see."
With a wave of its hand, the figure summoned a mirror, its surface rippling with shadows. Adrian stared into it, seeing not his reflection, but a world beyond—a world of chaos and ruin, of horrors too great to name.
"You will face the truth," the figure said, stepping aside. "And you will not escape it this time."
Adrian braced himself, knowing that whatever lay beyond that mirror would change him forever.
And with a single step, he crossed the threshold.