“Jason from class 3A, please immediately come to the principal’s office!”

  The words echoed through Jason’s mind, faint at first, like a distant whisper, too soft to be real. The school PA system, the voice speaking directly to him, cutting through the haze of confusion. Slowly, the voice grew louder, clearer, until it rang out with normal intensity, just as if it were happening in real time. The volume increased until it became inescapable, almost like the entire school was shaking with the force of it. Jason’s head snapped up, eyes wide.

  "W-what happened...?" He gasped, struggling to make sense of everything. For a moment, he just stared at the walls of the school, the same ones he had been in for what felt like forever. The bright fluorescent lights, the faint hum of the school, all of it felt strangely distant. Hadn't he just...? He blinked rapidly, his eyes scanning the room.

  It wasn’t just a memory anymore.

  For a second, he believed he had been in the cabin, in his mother’s arms. The warmth of her embrace, the peace she gave him, it felt so real. He could still feel the softness of her touch, the warmth of her skin. He could hear her voice calling him to stay, promising that everything would be fine. But now… now he was back here.

  Jason shook his head, disoriented, trying to push the illusion aside.

  "Wait…" he muttered. His heart raced as he pieced it together. The truth—the call—it was happening again.

  The mountain pass, the voices from the fire, those piercing calls that had echoed through his mind… the feeling of being pulled, woken up, no longer safe in the illusion. He remembered Lockhart, the man whose voice had warned him… it all crashed back into his thoughts in an overwhelming surge. His head throbbed with pain, sharp and unrelenting.

  The room around him seemed to shift, warping and swaying as if the very walls were alive, bending with the force of his thoughts. Jason grabbed his head, his fingers digging into his temples as he tried to hold onto his consciousness.

  This is real… this is real…

  For the first time in a long while, Jason could feel the air. The coolness of it, the realness of his own breath as it filled his lungs. It was different from the suffocating air inside the illusion—the air that had kept him trapped. This was the air of reality. The pulse of life coursed through him as the world around him stopped shifting. It was a simple breath, but it felt monumental, like he had been starved for this truth.

  Then, as suddenly as the pain had come, it stopped. The waves of nausea and dizziness faded, leaving behind an eerie calm.

  The rattling chains replaced the thunderous pulse in his mind. They clanged in his thoughts, a sound that pulled him closer to the truth.

  In that moment, Jason snapped back. He was here. He was still in the school. It was undeniable. The weight of reality crashed down on him, sharper than anything he had felt before.

  His locker clicked open with a metallic snap. The lock itself dropped to the floor, forgotten, useless. Inside, there was only one item waiting for him: a small piece of paper.

  Jason hesitated for a moment, but he already knew. Without even looking at it, he could feel what was written there. He knew. His breath caught in his chest as he unfolded the paper, and there it was.

  A picture.

  A picture of him, falling, spiraling down into the eye of the storm. His own face, twisted in a grimace of fear and acceptance.

  He didn’t need to look any longer. The image said everything. It was all part of the plan, the illusion, the trap. And now… now he had to break free.

  Jason now knew. He finally understood.

  “All this time… the answer was here.”

  His fingers tightened around the piece of paper, crumpling it in his fist. The moment felt heavier than anything before, like the weight of the entire illusion pressing down on him one last time. He let the paper slip from his grasp, watching it fall lifelessly to the ground. It didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was ahead of him.

  His gaze locked onto the school’s exit. The doors looked different now—no longer just a way out, but the way out. Golden light shimmered faintly between the cracks, almost like it was calling to him, whispering that beyond them lay the truth. His heartbeat quickened. Every step forward echoed with a force that rippled through the world itself, like a hammer shattering fragile glass.

  Visions flickered at the edges of his mind—memories from this world, revealing their desperate attempts to keep him here.

  His mother’s warm embrace, her gentle voice soothing him into forgetting. His father’s stern but loving presence, reminding him of duty, of responsibility—anything to ground him.

  His so-called friends. Tyler’s jokes, his distractions, always steering Jason away from dangerous thoughts. Jessica’s flirtations, the carefully placed moments of romance, the countless times they had tried to make him fall in love.

  It had all been a lie. Every last piece of it.

  Yet none of it mattered anymore. He was done playing their game.

  Jason reached out for the door handle, fingers mere inches away—

  “Hey, buddy!”

  A voice, casual yet oddly sharp, cut through the air.

  Tyler.

  Jason barely had time to react before Tyler stepped in front of him, blocking his path with an easy-going grin, as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

  “Where are you going?” Tyler asked, tilting his head. “Y’know, I was thinking… Maybe we should go back and—”

  Jason ignored him. He reached for the handle again.

  Tyler moved faster than Jason expected. A sudden shove pushed him back, not hard, but firm enough to keep him away from the door. Tyler laughed, scratching his head.

  “Haha… sorry, man. What came over me?” His smile lingered for a second too long.

  Jason’s heart pounded. Something was wrong. He could feel it.

  Then, Tyler’s expression changed. The lightheartedness drained from his face, his features hardening into something unfamiliar, something cold.

  “Jason…” His voice lowered. “Please. You have to stay.”

  Silence stretched between them, heavy, suffocating.

  Tyler wasn’t asking. He was commanding.

  Jason swallowed, every instinct screaming at him—this wasn’t just Tyler. This was something else. Something bigger. And it wasn’t going to let him go without a fight.

  "I don't know what will happen after I open that door, T.," Jason said, his voice strained as he tried to calm the storm of emotions inside him. "But you have to let me go. I have to do this."

  Tyler's face twisted, his eyes wild, a mixture of fear and desperation that Jason had never seen before. "You just don’t understand, do you?" Tyler's voice cracked with the rawness of the words. "This isn’t just about you. If you do it… you ruin everything. You will have to start again… we will have to start again!" His words burned through the space between them, a level of intensity Jason wasn’t prepared for. Tyler was shouting now, his voice hoarse, as if the weight of their friendship was threatening to snap him in two.

  Jason felt his chest tighten. He had never heard Tyler like this—so broken, so raw. Tyler was the one who had always been steady, a constant in his life. But now, it seemed as though the very foundation of their bond was crumbling under the pressure of what Jason was about to do.

  Tyler exhaled sharply, taking a moment to steady himself. He let out a shaky laugh, but it was bitter, almost like he was mocking the whole situation, as though this was some kind of cruel joke. "Jason... how many times have we stood at this place already? How many times have we been here, doing this again?" He started to laugh, but the sound felt hollow, as if it was too much for him to bear.

  Jason stared at him, unable to say anything at first, his mind reeling with the weight of those words. "I guess too many times, my friend," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper, the exhaustion in his words betraying the years of silent repetition. The same cycle. The same struggle. Over and over again.

  "Yeah, in that, you're right," Tyler agreed, his voice thick with emotion. "God damn right..." He stood still for a moment, the air heavy between them, as if the world was holding its breath. Then, with an almost inhuman speed, Tyler moved. In a flash, he grabbed Jason, pulling him into a firm, desperate grip, his hands clenching like lifelines. It wasn’t just an attempt to stop him; it was as though Tyler was trying to force him to understand, to feel what he was going through.

  "Jason!" Tyler’s voice broke with the weight of a thousand unspoken words. "Wasn't I a good friend all this time? Didn’t I always have your back? Don’t you have a loving family, a home that’s waiting for you? Don't you have people who care about you—who want to see you happy?" Tyler’s voice cracked, his words now spilling out with a mix of desperation and rage. "Don’t you have a girl waiting for you? Someone who’ll do anything for you? Please, Jason... you can’t leave. You can’t just walk away from everything we’ve built. Everything we are..."

  Tyler shook Jason in his grip, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his emotions a storm just barely contained. His face was a mess of anger, fear, and a deep, gut-wrenching sadness. It was as if the very fabric of their friendship was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn’t stop it.

  Jason felt the weight of his friend’s words press against him, each one like a blow to his chest. Tyler wasn’t just pleading with him; he was shaking him, his entire body trembling with the unspoken fear of what Jason’s decision would mean. And for the first time, Jason wondered if he was doing the right thing.

  But he had to keep moving forward. He had no choice.

  Suddenly, Tyler dropped down, sitting against the wall near the door. Tired, exhausted, broken. It was as if he already knew what was about to happen. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he fought, it would end up the same.

  " T. I have to go, they are waiting for me," Jason said, his voice distant, as though the words slipped from him without his full awareness. At the exact same time, Tyler spoke the same words, his voice heavy with understanding.

  Tyler’s gaze met Jason’s, and there was a fleeting smile—resigned, yet strangely calm. "See? Farewell, my friend," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a man who had already accepted his fate. The smile was bittersweet, as if Tyler had foreseen this moment long ago.

  Jason, still shocked by the synchronicity of it, couldn’t find the words to respond. His heart ached, but his body moved instinctively. He reached for the door handle, as if drawn by something beyond his control.

  " If... if you get out... don’t hurt her... don’t hurt Mary... she... really loved you," Tyler’s voice cracked, the words leaving his lips as though they were all he had left to give. There was only the faintest glimmer of hope in his tone, as if he knew, deep down, the smallest chance might still be there.

  Jason’s heart grew heavy with Tyler’s words. He remembered the warmth of his mother’s embrace, the love she’d shown him. But still, his purpose was clear. His path was set. He had to go. The truth, the real truth, awaited him, and he couldn’t stay in this moment forever.

  With a final, almost imperceptible sigh, Jason gripped the handle. His fingers tightened, the metal cold under his touch, and he turned it.

  Tyler had done all he could. The door was open. Jason took a step forward, the weight of everything—his past, his choices, and the love he might have to leave behind—pressing down on him.

  But there was no turning back now.

  As Jason opened the door, he felt the cold, biting air rush in before he even stepped through. What he expected to be the familiar sights of the school’s exit turned into something entirely different. The door didn’t lead him to the hallway or the familiar path to freedom—it led him to the top of the mountain he had been trying to reach all along. The storm was still raging, but now, it felt even closer, more visceral. The thunder cracked above them, the wind howling with such intensity that Jason had to brace himself just to stand upright. The rain battered his skin like a thousand tiny needles.

  But there was no turning back now. The door behind him cracked open, its hinges groaning under the pressure of the storm. And then, with a sound like glass shattering into millions of tiny pieces, the door exploded outward, blown away by the force of the wind. Jason didn’t look back. There was nothing for him there anymore. The way forward was all that remained.

  With a deep breath, he began walking toward the peak, toward the figure standing just ahead. The path was short, but the distance felt longer with every step, as if the very air around him was pressing in, trying to stop him. He could see the figure more clearly now—distant yet close, its outline becoming sharper as he approached.

  As he stepped closer, the person turned to face him, walking toward him with a deliberate pace. Jason’s heart skipped a beat, and he froze in place. The recognition hit him like a punch to the gut.

  “Lockhart…” Jason breathed, his voice barely audible above the wind’s wail. It was the man from the bench. The sketching man. The person who had somehow been there through all of this.

  Lockhart’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. “Yes, the person on the bench… sketching.” His voice was cool, detached, but there was something in it—an understanding, a quiet acceptance of the inevitable. Like he had been waiting for this moment as much as Jason had.

  The storm around them seemed to pause, as if it, too, were waiting. The violent winds slowed, the rain softened. Even the lightning seemed to step back, as if holding its breath for what would come next. The entire world held its chaos at bay, and for a brief moment, all that was left was the strange silence between Jason and Lockhart.

  “Well? Here you are… again,” Lockhart said, taking a small step to the side and gesturing toward the path that led further up the mountain. “So, what are you waiting for?”

  Jason stood frozen, the weight of everything pressing down on him. The confusion that gripped him only deepened. What was this place? What was he supposed to do now? The answer was somewhere, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it. Still, there was nothing else to do but walk. So, slowly, hesitantly, he moved forward. Each step felt like it carried him further from the life he had known, as if he was crossing some final threshold, and there was no turning back.

  Lockhart followed behind, silent and steady. As they reached the top, Jason looked down. His breath caught in his throat. The clouds were swirling in a way that made the sky seem alive, dark and twisting, and in the center, the storm had formed something even more surreal—a massive eye. It was a swirling vortex of wind, lightning, and shadow, like a storm personified. The chaos of the elements seemed to converge there, and Jason felt the weight of it pressing down on him.

  “Nice view, isn’t it?” Lockhart said with a tone of finality, his hand sweeping toward the eye of the storm. “Your destination?”

  Jason could hardly breathe as he looked down at the spiraling vortex. This was it. This was the place he had been heading toward all along, even if he didn’t know what he was truly walking into. But something inside him twisted, as doubt, fear, and uncertainty surged to the surface.

  “This doesn’t feel right…” Jason’s voice was louder now, more sure of itself as the words tumbled out. His gaze flickered from the eye of the storm to Lockhart, but the feeling didn’t fade.

  Lockhart only smiled again, a strange expression that seemed to say he’d heard those words before. His voice was quiet, but there was an unmistakable finality in it. “Nothing feels right when you’re about to face the truth.”

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  Jason swallowed hard, the storm swirling around him. The eye was there, but it felt wrong. It felt like a trap, like the storm itself was watching him, waiting. But still, he stood on the precipice, unable to look away.

  He had come this far.

  But now, it seemed harder than ever to take the next step.

  As Jason stood at the edge of the mountain, ready to take the next step, his heart raced in anticipation. But just before he could move forward, Lockhart’s voice cut through the silence, dark and cold.

  “You know, Jason,” Lockhart’s words drifted slowly, as if weighing each one with a heavy sense of bitterness. “From all my illusions, this one lasted the longest. And it would have been perfect—if it wasn’t for that little rat, invading this world.” His voice dropped to a venomous hiss as he finished, his eyes narrowing as he turned his attention fully to Jason.

  Jason froze, the words sending a chill through him. Who was Lockhart really, and why did he speak as if Jason’s journey was all part of some twisted design? His thoughts raced, but before he could speak, Lockhart began to move slowly down from the peak, his eyes still locked on Jason. It felt like Jason needed to follow him, an invisible pull drawing him toward Lockhart.

  “Who are—” Jason began, but Lockhart interrupted with a laugh that was low, mocking, as he drew closer.

  “Who am I?” Lockhart repeated, a twisted smile curving his lips. “But you already know that, Jason. I am the one who built all of this... only for you. And yet, you aren’t happy with anything I’ve made. You’ve been trying to escape it all.” His tone became sharp, full of anger, as if Jason’s refusal to accept what had been created for him was a personal betrayal.

  Jason hesitated, confusion and fear rising in his chest. “I don’t—what do you mean?” he asked, his voice shaky, but Lockhart continued, relentless in his words.

  “And for what? You think you’ll like it out there? You think they are waiting for you after all this time?” Lockhart’s voice became heavy with disdain, as though mocking Jason’s hopes and dreams.

  “All this time?” Jason asked, his heart pounding in his chest. He was afraid of the answer, but it was already too late.

  Lockhart didn’t hesitate. “Your love, Esméris... the one you’re fighting so bravely for.” His voice was thick with sarcasm as he spoke her name, and Jason could feel the coldness in his words. “Long gone. Like dust in the wind.” Lockhart made a sweeping gesture, his hand floating away as if brushing off the memory of Esméris entirely, as though she was nothing.

  Jason’s stomach twisted, and his legs felt like they might give out beneath him. “No… she’s not gone,” he whispered to himself, but Lockhart was far from finished.

  “Your closest friends,” Lockhart continued, his words dripping with venom, “They don’t care about you. They already forgot you, gave up on you a long time ago.” The magic in his words was subtle, but Jason could feel it, like poison seeping into his veins. He couldn’t deny the pang of doubt that tugged at him as Lockhart’s words echoed in his mind. Was it true? Was he really forgotten?

  “Your kingdom?” Lockhart sneered, his eyes narrowing into cold slits. “Flattened to the ground. Not a single stone left. Deleted from the maps, erased from the memories of everyone.” The storm around them seemed to grow darker at his words, the wind picking up again, adding to the sense of impending doom.

  Jason staggered, his heart hammering in his chest as the weight of Lockhart’s words crushed him. His kingdom, his home—gone. His people—forgotten. But there was more.

  “And lastly,” Lockhart’s voice lowered, almost a whisper, “you. How do you think your physical form looks right now? You’re barely alive, Jason. Weak, broken… If you knew everything, you—” he pointed a finger directly at Jason, his voice rising with anger, “You would beg me to lock you up here again.”

  Jason’s breath caught in his throat. The pain of it all. The reality of what he was hearing. The doubts that had been building inside him now rushed forward like a flood. Was he really so broken? Was this all a lie he had been telling himself?

  Lockhart, almost furious now, took a deep breath and pulled out a sketchbook, the familiar sight of it only deepening Jason’s dread. Lockhart opened it slowly, the pages turning as if he were preparing for something inevitable. His eyes were full of cold calculation as he turned to Jason, the threat in his next words almost a whisper. “What do you really want, Jason? Do you really want to suffer in the reality outside? I can give you everything.”

  Lockhart’s words were poison, slow and insidious, whispering into Jason’s ear like the devil himself. “You want Esméris? You’ll have her. You want a reflection of your kingdom? You’ll be the greatest king that ever lived.” His voice dropped to a near-hiss as he walked around Jason like a predator closing in on its prey. “I can give you it all. I can make it perfect. All you have to do is stay. All you have to do is accept.”

  Jason felt his heart racing, torn between the truth he had always believed and the seductive offer before him. Was this really the choice he had to make? Could he accept the illusion that Lockhart was offering? Could he let go of everything he had fought for?

  But deep down, Jason knew what this was: a trap. The storm, the illusion—it was all part of Lockhart’s design. No matter what he offered, it was never going to be enough to fill the emptiness inside him.

  Jason was now hesitant as he thought about what Lockhart was saying. What if all of it was true? From what he had gathered, they had tried everything to lock him in this illusion—every possible scenario—yet every time, it ended up here. And from here, it seemed it always ended in another illusion.

  But what if he really was trying to break free, only to find out that the real world was something he would hate? That everything he had known before was long gone? What if all the voices, all the memories, all the people he loved... were gone?

  His mind raced with the possibilities, with the unbearable weight of doubt pressing down on him. He looked back at his life here—could Tyler be right? He had a good friend. He had a loving family. He had a place where he belonged. Could he be happy? Could he accept it—truly accept it—and live a normal life? Maybe if he stopped resisting, if he just let go, he could finally have peace.

  Lockhart’s smile widened ever so slightly, sensing the hesitation creeping into Jason’s heart like a slow-moving poison. He did not speak. He did not force Jason’s hand. He only waited, letting Jason crumble under the weight of his own thoughts.

  The wind howled softly around them, yet the storm itself remained unnervingly still—as if it, too, was waiting for his answer.

  Jason clenched his fists, his breath unsteady. He had come so far. He had broken through so many layers of falsehood. But now, standing at the precipice of truth, he found himself paralyzed by the one thing he had avoided facing all this time.

  What if there was nothing left to return to?

  Jason felt himself sinking deeper into uncertainty, Lockhart’s words burrowing into his thoughts like roots seeking to take hold. The storm above them swirled in restless chaos, dark clouds churning with unnatural energy, as though responding to the battle waging inside his mind. Thin streaks of lightning crackled between them, illuminating the sky in eerie flashes, their erratic patterns converging toward a single, growing mass.

  Even Lockhart, who had stood with unwavering confidence until now, looked up. His gaze sharpened, his expression shifting—not with anger, not with triumph, but with something else entirely. Doubt.

  And then, it happened.

  “There you are hiding!!” Lockhart’s voice erupted, sharp and commanding, his entire presence shifting from composed manipulator to desperate hunter. His body tensed, and in one fluid motion, he reached for his sketchbook, his fingers curling as though preparing to etch reality itself onto the world.

  But before he could so much as touch the page—

  The sky answered first.

  Two bolts of energy streaked downward, faster than thought, tearing through the heavens like divine judgment. The first struck the earth mere feet in front of Jason, sending a wave of force rippling through the mountaintop. The second—

  It struck Lockhart’s sketchbook directly.

  The moment it connected, an explosion of sound shattered through the air. Not fire, not a blast of wind, but something deeper—something fundamental. A deafening crack, like the very foundation of this world splitting apart.

  Jason flinched as the sound rippled through the air, echoing in waves, bouncing off unseen walls of existence. He watched, breathless, as the shockwave spread, fractures appearing in the very fabric of the illusion. Like glass under immense pressure, the space around them splintered, fine cracks spidering outward from the point of impact.

  Lockhart’s eyes widened in horror.

  His fingers twitched as he turned the sketchbook in his hands, flipping through pages that were no longer solid, no longer real. They crumbled as he touched them, dissolving into dust, the careful strokes of ink and graphite erased from existence. His world, his masterpiece, was disintegrating.

  Jason watched in stunned silence as the fractures extended beyond the book—across Lockhart’s own hands. Thin cracks webbed over his skin, growing wider, deeper, crawling up his arms, spreading over his entire body like an unstoppable curse.

  The man gasped, his voice raw, filled not with rage, but something far more harrowing.

  “What… what have you done?”

  It was not an accusation. It was not anger. It was grief.

  A grief so complete, so absolute, that for the first time, Jason saw Lockhart not as an omnipotent architect of illusions, but as a man who had lost everything he had ever created.

  His expression twisted—not in fury, but in devastation—before his body could no longer hold itself together.

  And then—

  He shattered.

  The cracks in his form widened all at once, his body bursting apart into a cloud of dust, carried away by the howling winds. No scream, no final words. Just silence. A hollow silence that felt almost cruel.

  Jason barely had time to process what had just happened before he turned toward the first lightning strike—the one that had touched the ground in front of him.

  A figure stood there, outlined against the swirling storm.

  Jason’s breath caught in his throat, his pulse hammering as his eyes adjusted to the sight before him. His mind struggled to reconcile what he was seeing with what he knew to be real.

  “…Nelson?”

  The figure smiled. It was subtle, a familiar smirk that carried the warmth of an old friend—but it vanished just as quickly, replaced by urgency as his gaze lifted toward the sky.

  The world was falling apart.

  Chunks of the illusion—massive fragments of sky, of mountain, of everything—were breaking off, disintegrating into nothingness. Reality itself was collapsing, pulling inward like a dying star.

  Nelson didn’t hesitate. His voice cut through the chaos, sharp and certain.

  “Jason, we don’t have time. You have to go. This is our last chance.”

  Jason took a step forward, his mind racing, the weight of everything that had happened pressing against his chest. “But… wait—”

  Nelson turned to him, his expression unreadable. And then, with quiet finality, he spoke the words that made Jason’s blood run cold.

  “Jason… I’m not Nelson. I never was.”

  The weight of those words struck like a hammer. Jason froze, unable to respond.

  “I’m just a memory,” Nelson continued, his voice tinged with something close to sorrow. “A memory of your real friend. The one from the world outside this illusion.”

  Jason felt his heart pound in his ears.

  “I was hidden inside you this whole time,” Nelson went on. “But I’m disappearing now. The energy keeping me here—it’s almost gone.”

  Jason’s mind reeled, trying to grasp onto something tangible, something real. “All this time…?” His voice was barely above a whisper. “That bullying… everything… Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I couldn’t,” Nelson admitted, his tone laced with regret. “I had to stay hidden from Lockhart. If I made myself known, he would have erased me long ago. But I tried, Jason. I tried to wake you up. So many times.”

  His lips curled into a bittersweet smirk.

  “Last time, at the school… I tried to use your anger. Rage was the only thing strong enough to shake you awake.” His smirk grew into something amused—yet tired. “It almost worked. You almost killed me.”

  Jason sucked in a sharp breath, memories of that fight flashing through his mind. The heat of battle, the overwhelming fury, the way it had nearly consumed him—

  And then—

  Nelson’s expression hardened.

  “Jason! We have to go!”

  Nelson seized Jason’s wrist, his grip firm—urgent. There was no more time to waste. He pulled him forward, their boots skidding across the fractured, unstable ground as they ascended toward the mountain’s peak. The winds howled like wailing spirits, screaming through the air as if mourning the dying world around them. Each step felt heavier, the very fabric of reality buckling under unseen forces.

  Before them, the eye of the storm loomed—a swirling vortex of chaos and uncertainty. It churned like an endless abyss, dark tendrils of cloud and lightning spiraling around its gaping maw. The wind pulled at them, dragging them closer, as if the storm itself demanded Jason’s escape. It was a doorway, a passage beyond the crumbling illusion—an exit, yet at the same time, an unknown fate.

  “This is your way out.” Nelson’s voice was steady, unwavering.

  But Jason—he stopped.

  His feet refused to move forward. A deep, gnawing hesitation gripped his chest, tightening like a vice. His heart pounded, not from fear of the storm, not from the chaos surrounding him—but from something deeper. Something he could not yet put into words.

  Nelson turned to him, urgency flashing in his eyes. He had expected resistance, maybe even fear, but what he saw in Jason’s face made him pause.

  “What’s wrong?!” Nelson’s voice was sharp, cutting through the storm. “You have to go!”

  Jason’s hands curled into fists at his sides. His breath came fast, uneven. The wind tore at his hair, the world cracked and shattered around him, but all of it felt distant—drowned beneath a single, aching question clawing at his mind.

  His voice, when it finally came, was small. Barely a whisper beneath the roaring winds.

  “Is… is there anyone waiting for me?”

  Nelson’s eyes widened slightly, caught off guard.

  Jason swallowed hard, his throat tightening with something that felt dangerously close to sorrow. “Is there even a reason to leave?” His voice cracked. “What if… What if there’s nothing left?”

  Nelson’s face fell.

  For the first time, his composure wavered. The urgency in his expression was replaced with something far more human. Far more painful.

  For the first time—he looked hurt.

  Jason barely had time to register it before—

  A sharp, stinging crack echoed through the air as Nelson’s palm struck his face.

  Jason flinched, his head snapping to the side.

  But the pain—he barely felt it.

  It wasn’t pain.

  It was something else.

  A pressure broke inside him, like a dam bursting, sending a flood of something deep and overwhelming surging through his mind.

  Not just memories—fragments of them, colliding, overlapping, too fast to process. Faces, voices, echoes of laughter and sorrow. Feelings—stronger than thought, stronger than logic—rushing through him like wildfire.

  And then—

  One memory, clearer than all the rest.

  A presence.

  Two piercing, luminous blue eyes.

  They were unlike anything else in his mind—sharper, deeper, carrying with them a weight that shook him to his very core. They were like ice and fire all at once—frigid yet burning, unyielding yet filled with warmth. They commanded his attention, yet pulled at something deeper inside him, something fragile, something irreplaceable.

  Those eyes.

  That presence.

  Esméris.

  Jason’s breath caught. A shiver ran down his spine, not from fear, not from cold—but from the sheer intensity of that memory.

  She was real.

  Not a dream. Not an illusion. Not a fabrication of this twisted world.

  She existed.

  And in that moment, he knew it.

  His hesitation shattered, replaced by something far stronger—conviction.

  He turned to Nelson, and this time, his gaze was steady.

  Nelson saw it.

  A slow, knowing smile touched his lips—one filled not with relief, but with quiet satisfaction.

  “I won’t say it won’t be hard,” Nelson admitted, his voice softer now, carrying the weight of a truth he had long known. “It will be. But you have to stay strong. Believe, Jason.” He placed a firm hand on Jason’s shoulder. “If you do that… you can overcome anything.”

  Jason felt it now. A warmth—something steady, something real.

  Like a hand reaching out through the storm, through time itself.

  Like the presence of an old, trusted friend.

  He believed.

  Nelson exhaled, stepping back. His form flickered, pieces of him breaking away like dust carried on the wind. The illusion that had hidden him for so long was unraveling, just like the world around them. He had only moments left.

  His voice, quieter now, cut through the storm one last time.

  “…And one last thing.”

  Jason watched as Nelson’s form wavered, the wind beginning to take him.

  “Don’t ever forget your name.”

  He extended his hand—

  And with one final push—

  “Jason Ignis.”

  Nelson threw him into the storm.

  “Jason Ignis… So that’s my name, huh?”

  The words lingered in his mind as he fell, his body swallowed by the storm. The sensation was strange—not like falling through air, but through existence itself. Piece by piece, he felt himself dissolving, unraveling into nothingness. It wasn’t painful. It wasn’t cold. It was simply… fading.

  Above him, the world was vanishing. The storm, the mountain, the sky—all breaking apart like fragile glass, each fragment carried away into the void. Even Nelson—his friend, his guide, his final connection to this place—was slipping away, his form scattering into light before Jason could say anything more.

  And then—

  Darkness.

  He closed his eyes, and in that instant, something snapped.

  A shockwave tore through his mind, not in his body, but in the very core of his being. It was like falling backward through time, spiraling through the layers of illusion he had been trapped in.

  A perfect life. A normal life. A life of struggle. A life of torment.

  Faces blurred past him—people who had once tormented him, then embraced him, then loved him. A thousand different realities, a thousand different versions of the same lie, shifting and changing the longer he remained inside them. Had they ever been real? Had they ever truly cared? Or had they been nothing more than fabrications meant to keep him contained?

  The weight of it all crushed him. If he had a voice, he would scream. If he had a body, he would collapse. But he had nothing—only the flood of memories, the terrible realization of how much time had been stolen from him.

  How long had he been trapped here?

  How many lifetimes had he lived and lost?

  Faster and faster, the illusions crumbled, reality peeling away like burned paper in the wind. And then—

  Nothing.

  Pure, endless darkness.

  For a moment, there was silence.

  And then—

  Jason Ignis opened his eyes.

  And for the first time in forever—

  He was free.