The air around us feels heavy, as if it's thick with the weight of everything we've done. The Keeper stands still, watching us, its presence looming over us like a dark cloud. But it doesn't stop us. We've come too far to turn back now.
"We must begin," the Keeper says. "The fractures are deep, and you will need to face them one by one. Each choice, each version of yourself, has left a mark. A scar on the world. And now, you must confront it."
The others stand around me, their faces uncertain but resolute. We've all felt it — the weight of our past choices, the lingering fear of what we've become. Each of us carries a piece of the puzzle, a different version of who we were, and now, we have to reconcile with those pieces. We have to accept every version of ourselves — not just the ones we like, but the ones we hate, the ones we fear.
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. The world around us begins to blur, the sky darkening, the ground shifting beneath our feet. We're not in the same place anymore. It's like we've entered a new dimension, a place where time and space don't function as we know them. Here, it's just the fragments of ourselves.
I feel a pull — a tug in my chest, as if something is calling me forward. I walk towards it, the others following, though some are hesitant, unsure. But we all know what we have to do.
We reach a clearing, and in the center stands a mirror. It's large, impossibly tall, and its surface is reflective but distorted, like the world itself. In it, I can see the versions of myself I've long forgotten, the parts I've tried to leave behind.
I step forward, reaching out to touch the surface. As my fingers graze the mirror, it ripples, and suddenly, I'm not standing in front of it anymore. I'm inside it.
The world around me shifts. I'm in a place I don't recognize. A version of the city from the loop, but it's different now. Everything feels off, like a dream fading into reality. And there, standing before me, is the first version of myself — the one who got stuck in the loop, the one who made the first choice that started everything.
"What do you want from me?" I ask, my voice trembling.
"You need to remember," the version of me says, its face expressionless. "You need to confront everything you've hidden, everything you've avoided."
I close my eyes. The weight of all my choices, all my fears, crashes into me. This is the fracture. This is what I've been running from — the first choice, the first decision that set everything in motion. I made it, and now, I have to face it.
And with that, the mirror shatters, and I am thrust back into the present.