Jason's footsteps were slow, measured. Each step felt heavier than the last, as though the very act of moving forward was a betrayal of something he couldn't quite name. His mind swirled with confusion, the conversation with the figure still echoing in his thoughts.
"You will see."
What did that even mean? What was he supposed to see? The truth? But what truth was there? The longer he spent in this place, the more fragmented everything seemed. His memories, his sense of reality, all began to blur and fade.
The horizon stretched endlessly before him, yet he felt as though he were walking in circles, retracing the same steps again and again, but without any sign of progress. The landscape had become a twisted reflection of itself, the cracked earth giving way to twisted shapes and impossibly sharp angles, as if the world around him was on the verge of falling apart.
And then, amidst the chaos, a figure appeared.
At first, Jason wasn't sure if it was real. It seemed so distant, just a vague shape in the distance. But the more he focused on it, the more solid it became. It wasn't like the other figures he had encountered. This one had a presence that felt familiar, like a memory tugging at the edges of his mind.
As he walked toward it, a strange sensation washed over him. It was as though he had known this figure before, or perhaps had seen it in another time, another place. The face was obscured, as if hidden behind a veil, but the aura around it was unmistakable.
When he was close enough, the figure spoke, its voice barely a whisper in the air.
"You've forgotten," it said.
Jason froze. Forgotten? Forgotten what? There was nothing to forget. Or was there?
The figure took a step forward, and Jason's heart skipped a beat. He couldn't place it, but something about the figure's presence unsettled him. It felt like a part of his past, something long buried, now resurfacing.
"Who are you?" Jason asked, his voice trembling despite himself.
The figure's voice, now clearer, responded with a single word that sent a chill down his spine.
"Yourself."
Jason's mind reeled. Himself? How could this be him? This wasn't possible. The figure before him was not his reflection, not a mere image. It was something else, something far older and deeper.
The figure raised a hand, and the world around Jason seemed to shimmer, the air thickening with tension. The ground beneath him trembled slightly, the distant horizon distorting as if bending in on itself. And then, as if opening a doorway to another realm, the figure gestured again.
Jason felt an overwhelming compulsion to step forward, as though an invisible force was guiding him. Despite every instinct telling him to turn back, to run from whatever was about to unfold, his legs carried him forward. The landscape began to change again, shifting with a surreal fluidity, becoming something far more ancient and unsettling.
Suddenly, Jason was no longer standing on cracked earth. The ground beneath him was soft, moss-covered stone, and the air smelled of old wood and damp earth. It was a place that felt both alien and strangely familiar, like a dream half-remembered.
The figure, still cloaked in shadow, led him deeper into the landscape, which seemed to stretch forever. There were no clear paths, no signposts to guide him. Everything felt lost in time.
"Where are we?" Jason asked, the question slipping from his lips without thought.
"The past," the figure replied cryptically. "Your past."
Jason's heart raced. The past? How could this be his past? What was this place?
The figure stopped and turned toward him. For the first time, it removed the veil from its face, revealing a familiar expression—his own.
Jason's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the reflection of himself, standing before him, unmoving. It was him, but not him. The eyes were colder, darker, as though they had seen things Jason could never fathom.
"This is who you were," the figure said, its voice now full of an unsettling calm. "This is who you could have been."
Jason opened his mouth to speak, but no words came. The truth—or what passed for truth—was far too much to process. He had always thought of himself as ordinary, as someone with a simple, mundane life. But now, standing before the reflection of something ancient and untold, he felt as though the very foundation of his existence was crumbling.
"Why are you showing me this?" Jason finally managed to ask, his voice shaking.
"Because you are not who you think you are," the figure said. "And the choices you've made… they have brought you to this moment. To face what lies beneath your memories."
Jason's mind began to race. Memories? What was hidden in his past? What had he forgotten, or worse, what had been deliberately erased?
The figure gestured to the world around them. "This is the root of your truth. The beginning of everything. The answer you seek lies in what you've forgotten."
Jason turned away, looking around, as if trying to escape the overwhelming weight of the figure's words. But there was no escape. Not here.
The world around him began to shift again, but this time, it wasn't just the landscape that changed. The air felt heavier, oppressive, as if something was closing in on him. And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the figure vanished, leaving Jason standing alone in the silent void.
The silence was unbearable.
Jason was left with one burning question: What was it that he had forgotten? What truth had been buried so deep that it had to be locked away?
And more importantly, why did it feel like the past was coming for him?