The mist thickened as Jason followed Finn through the shifting sands, his breath shallow with unease. The compass in his hand spun wildly, its cracked glass reflecting fragments of the shadows that loomed ever closer. Finn marched ahead with a spring in his step, seemingly unfazed by the ghostly figures closing in around them.
"What are they?" Jason asked, his voice hoarse.
Finn didn't stop walking. "Fragments of the past. Yours, mine, everyone who's ever wandered here. The Shores of Memory aren't kind to drifters. They like to dredge up what's buried and toss it back at you."
Jason shuddered as another figure emerged—a young boy with hollow eyes and bloodied hands. The boy stared directly at him, his gaze piercing. Jason looked away quickly, refusing to meet those haunting eyes.
"Keep your head straight, mate," Finn called back. "The more you feed them, the stronger they get."
"I didn't ask to be here!" Jason snapped, quickening his pace to catch up.
"No one ever does," Finn said with a shrug. "But here we are. And here, the truth wears many masks."
As if on cue, the mist swirled violently, and the sand beneath their feet shifted. Jason stumbled, barely keeping his balance. When he looked up, Finn was gone.
"Finn!" Jason called, his voice swallowed by the oppressive silence that followed.
Instead of an answer, a figure stepped out of the fog—a mirror image of Jason himself. But this version of him was different. His doppelgänger wore a twisted smirk and carried an air of menace that sent chills down Jason's spine.
"You think you're the hero, don't you?" the double sneered. "Scrambling for answers, clinging to hope like it means something."
Jason froze, his fists clenching. "You're not real."
The double laughed, a hollow, mocking sound. "Oh, I'm as real as your regrets, Jason. As real as the lies you tell yourself to sleep at night."
The compass in Jason's hand grew warm, its spinning needle suddenly pointing straight at the doppelgänger. He hesitated, unsure whether it was leading him toward the figure or warning him away.
"Get out of my head," Jason said through gritted teeth.
The doppelgänger's smirk widened. "This isn't your head. It's your soul, laid bare for all to see. And it's ugly."
The fog churned violently, the air heavy with tension. Jason's grip on the compass tightened as the doppelgänger lunged at him, its movements fluid and terrifyingly fast. Jason dodged just in time, tumbling to the ground but keeping hold of the compass.
Before the figure could strike again, Finn's voice rang out from the mist. "Enough of that nonsense!"
A blinding light cut through the fog, and the doppelgänger dissolved into nothingness with a guttural scream. Jason looked up to see Finn standing over him, holding a lantern that emitted a warm, golden glow.
"Thought you could use a hand," Finn said, offering Jason a grin and a hand up.
Jason took it, his legs unsteady. "What was that?"
Finn shrugged. "Call it a test. The Shores like to see what you're made of before they let you go."
"Let me go where?"
Finn gestured to the fog ahead. "To the truth, of course. But beware—it rarely comes without a price."
Jason followed Finn as the light of the lantern pierced the gloom, his mind racing. The truth felt closer than ever, but with every step, he couldn't shake the feeling that it might not be what he hoped for.