The room was cold, the kind of cold that sank into your bones and made you feel smaller than you were. The flickering light of the single candle on the desk threw jagged shadows across the walls of the small dormitory. The stone walls seemed to press in on me, their silence amplifying the thoughts I desperately tried to drown out. I sat curled up on the edge of my bed, my knees drawn to my chest, staring at the small, frost-covered window. Outside, the world was muted, the faint hum of distant voices and footsteps filtering in, but it felt miles away. This place was supposed to be a sanctuary—a chance for a better life—but instead, it felt like a prison, every echo of laughter in the halls reminding me of how disconnected I was. The other kids never understood. They smiled, they laughed, they thrived. Meanwhile, I kept to myself, the weight of everything pressing down harder with each passing day. They called me strange, whispered behind my back about how "off" I seemed. I couldn't blame them. I was strange, wasn't I? The quiet boy in the corner who barely spoke, who always seemed to be staring off into nothing.

Nothing. That's what it felt like most days. An endless, suffocating void that consumed everything I tried to care about. My chest tightened, and I buried my face in my arms, hoping to block out the world, but it only made the darkness inside me louder. Memories I wanted to forget resurfaced—my parents' cold stares, their harsh words disguised as expectations, their disappointment etched into every syllable. "You'll bring honor to this family, Noctis." They didn't care who I was, only what I could achieve for them. A shuddering breath escaped me, and my hands clenched into fists. I didn't want to think about them, about anything, but the thoughts came anyway, relentless and cruel.

You're not enough.

You'll never be enough.

Why are you even trying?

My body trembled as the whispers in my head grew louder, until another voice—quieter but sharper—cut through the noise.

"Why do you let them control you?"

I froze, my breath catching in my throat. Her voice was faint, like a breeze brushing past my ear, but it sent a chill down my spine. I didn't dare move, didn't dare speak. "They see you as a tool, Noctis. Not a person. And yet, you let them shape you, bend you to their will."

"Who's there?" My voice came out shaky, barely above a whisper.

There was no response, only the sound of the wind rattling the windowpane. I rubbed my temples, trying to convince myself I was imagining it. Maybe the stress was finally breaking me. "You don't have to live like this," the voice continued, softer now but laced with a haunting familiarity. "You don't have to carry the weight alone. There are… other ways."

"Stop it," I muttered, my nails digging into my palms. "You're not real. Just leave me alone."

A faint laugh echoed in my mind, low and melodic. It wasn't cruel, but it wasn't comforting either. "Oh, Noctis. You've been alone for so long, haven't you? Wouldn't it be easier to let someone else help you? To let go of all this… pain?" I clenched my jaw, my heart pounding in my chest. "I don't need help," I lied. "I'm fine."

"Are you?" she asked, her voice tinged with mockery. "Then why are you sitting here, drowning in your own misery? Why does every breath feel like a burden?" I swallowed hard, unable to answer. She was right, and that terrified me more than anything. I was tired—tired of pretending, tired of carrying the expectations, the loneliness, the crushing weight of being something I didn't even understand.

"Who are you?" I whispered, my voice barely audible. The air grew colder, and for a moment, it felt as though the shadows on the walls shifted, drawing closer. Her voice became softer, almost a whisper against my ear. "Someone who understands. Someone who sees you for what you are—not for what they want you to be." I stared at the flickering candlelight, the shadows dancing like phantoms. "What do you want from me?"

"Nothing… yet. For now, I only want to remind you that you're not alone. I'll be here, Noctis. Watching. Waiting. And when the time comes, I'll offer you a choice. A chance to take back control. To become something greater." Her words hung in the air long after her voice faded. The room was silent again, but the chill remained, creeping into my bones. I sat there for what felt like hours, staring at the wall, her voice echoing in my mind. Was she real? Was I losing my mind? I didn't have the answers, but deep down, I knew one thing: her words had left a mark, a seed of doubt and hope tangled together, growing in the cracks of my broken resolve.

And as I sat there, alone in the dim light, I wondered how much longer I could hold out before the weight of it all finally crushed me.