Elias's breath caught in his throat. The figure before him stood motionless, its presence both imposing and unreal. The mist coiled around them like silent sentinels, whispering secrets he couldn't decipher. His fingers twitched, an unconscious urge to reach out, to confirm whether what he was seeing was real—or just another layer of the illusion.
"What do you mean?" Elias finally managed to croak. His voice sounded distant, as if swallowed by the vast emptiness around him.
The figure tilted its head slightly. "You are not where you think you are."
A chill ran down Elias's spine. His surroundings felt both familiar and foreign, as if a dream he had once forgotten was now forcing its way back into his mind. He turned, trying to take in the shifting landscape. The mist parted momentarily, revealing fragments of places he recognized—his apartment door, the street corner near his workplace, even the café where he spent his sleepless nights. But they were all distorted, flickering like broken projections.
His heart pounded. "Is this a dream?"
The figure remained silent for a long moment before replying, "That depends on whether you believe in waking up."
Elias swallowed hard. He clenched his fists, grounding himself against the overwhelming sense of displacement. "Who are you?"
"I am a guide," the figure said, voice eerily calm. "And you are at the edge of understanding."
The mist thickened again, obscuring everything except the shadowed form before him. A deep hum resonated through the space, like the slow turning of unseen gears. The air vibrated, pressing against Elias's skin as if reality itself was pushing back against him.
His pulse quickened. "Why am I here?"
"To see the truth."
Elias barely had time to react before the world around him collapsed inward. Colors twisted, the mist solidified, and a force pulled him downward, deeper into the unknown. He felt weightless and heavy at the same time, as if gravity had forgotten how to hold him.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
And then—
He awoke, gasping for air. He was in his bed. His room. His apartment.
7:42 AM.
Again.
But this time, he wasn't alone.
A shadow lingered at the foot of his bed, waiting.