Elias's mind swam in an abyss of shadows and echoes. A cold weight settled on his chest, pressing him down into the void. He tried to breathe, but the air felt thick, unyielding, as though he were submerged in something unseen.
Then, suddenly—light.
A blinding flash, like a thousand shattered mirrors reflecting a world he did not recognize. Shapes flickered, melting and reforming, until they settled into something tangible.
He was standing.
The room around him was unfamiliar. The walls pulsed faintly, like they were alive, breathing in tandem with some unseen force. The furniture—distorted versions of things he owned—sat in strange arrangements, slightly off, like a poorly reconstructed memory.
Elias exhaled shakily. His head ached with the weight of disorientation. He turned slowly, expecting to see the shadowed figure, but he was alone.
For now.
A low hum filled the space, vibrating through his bones. He stepped forward cautiously. The floor felt different beneath his feet—less like solid ground, more like the surface of water barely holding its shape. He looked down and saw ripples spreading outward with each movement.
Then, a voice. Soft, distant, yet unmistakably familiar.
"Elias."
He turned sharply, his breath catching. Across the room, half-hidden in the unnatural haze, stood a person. No, not just a person—
Himself.
Elias's pulse roared in his ears. The other him—identical in every way, yet somehow wrong—tilted his head, observing him with an unsettling intensity.
"What… is this?" Elias managed to whisper.
His duplicate didn't answer. Instead, it took a step closer. The hum in the room grew louder, an invisible tension thickening between them. Elias felt it pressing against his skin, forcing his breath shallow.
Then, his double spoke.
"You have to remember."
The moment the words left its lips, the walls collapsed inward, reality folding like paper. The light fractured, consuming everything in a cascade of color and darkness.
Elias fell.
And the world fell with him.