The First Lie

Something stepped through.

Xyro's own reflection.

Or at least—that's what it looked like.

The second Xyro emerged from the broken frame, standing perfectly still.

No distortion.

No eerie glow.

Just… him.

But the moment their eyes met—Xyro knew.

It wasn't him.

And yet—it was.

The other Xyro exhaled, rolling his shoulders, his movements identical.

Then, he smiled.

Not an unnatural, eerie grin.

Just… a smirk.

The kind Xyro didn't even realize he made until now.

And suddenly, the test wasn't about which one was real.

It was about who believed what.

And..

Zkarn was the first to react.

He took one slow step forward, arms still crossed, eyes flicking between the two Xyros like this was the most fascinating trick he had ever seen.

"Well, this is poetic."

No one spoke.

The second Xyro—the reflection—tilted his head slightly.

"Poetic?" he repeated.

Zkarn smirked. "Two versions of the same man. One real, one fake. Or maybe both fake. Who's to say?"

Xyro's muscles tensed.

Veynn, standing just beside him, barely moved.

Zkarn let out a slow breath. "You know, people assume reality is fixed. That it has rules. But the truth?"

He gestured at the two of them, eyes dark with something unreadable.

"Reality bends the moment someone else believes in it differently."

He glanced at Veynn, then Orris, then back at the two Xyros.

"So the real question isn't 'who is real.'"

His grin sharpened.

"It's 'who do we trust?'"

For the first time, Xyro saw himself in a way he never had before.

Not in a mirror.

Not in a reflection.

But through other people's eyes.

Because that's all identity was, wasn't it?

Not who you think you are.

But who others believe you to be.

Didn't people shape themselves based on how they were seen?

The way we dress. The way we act. The way we speak.

Even the lies we tell ourselves.

And now—there were two of him.

Which meant—neither one was in control.

Because now, his identity was up to someone else's choice.

And that's what made this test dangerous.

The second Xyro finally stepped forward.

His eyes scanned the group.

Then—he looked straight at the real Xyro.

"Do you know who you are?" he asked.

The question wasn't sarcastic.

It was quiet. Genuine.

And Xyro's blood ran cold.

Because he didn't know.

Not really.

And suddenly—the test didn't feel like a trick anymore.

It felt like a trap.

Because now, he wasn't sure if he was the real one.

Orris, who had been watching everything, finally spoke.

His voice was soft, but sharp enough to cut.

"We don't have to choose."

Veynn glanced at him. "Explain."

Orris's pale fingers tightened at his sides.

"Trust is the test, right?" he murmured. "Then it isn't about proving who is real."

A pause.

Then—his voice dropped lower.

"It's about what happens when we make the wrong choice."

And that's when Xyro realized—

This wasn't a test about finding the real one.

It was a test about who they would betray first.

People always assumed trust was about certainty.

But it wasn't.

Trust was about who you were willing to let hurt you.

Because trust wasn't built on truth.

It was built on the moments where you didn't know the truth… but still made a choice.

And now, someone here had to choose between two Xyros.

Not based on proof.

Not based on evidence.

But based on who they could live with more.

And that's how the game would kill them.

Because when the choice was made—

One of the Xyros was going to die.

Zkarn's smirk grew wider.

Veynn's gaze stayed unreadable.

Orris's hands tensed.

And the second Xyro…

Smiled.

Because he already knew who they were going to choose.

And that's when the first move was made.

Veynn spoke first.

"Xyro."

Both Xyros turned toward her.

Her golden eyes held something sharp. Unshaken.

Then—she pointed at one of them.

And chose.

Xyro's breath caught.

Because she hadn't pointed at him.

She had pointed at the other one.

The fake.

And in that moment—

Xyro understood.

He had already lost.

Because when someone else decided who you were—

You stopped being real at all.

Then—the ground opened beneath him.

And he fell.

This was purposeful.

The world didn't blur around him. It unfolded.

He could see everything.

Every piece of the Labyrinth stretching downward.

Layers upon layers of stone, corridors twisting in impossible angles—doors leading to places that shouldn't exist.

And then—

The ground rose to meet him.

Not hard. Not violent.

Just… a stop.

Xyro hit the stone floor without a sound.

He exhaled sharply. His breath was still visible.

Not from cold.

From something else.

Then, the voice returned.

A whisper.

A thought.

A truth.

"You are not real anymore."

Xyro's pulse slowed.

The words didn't hurt.

Because he already knew.

Back in the Garden of Trust, no one spoke.

The weight of what had just happened pressed against the air.

Orris's hands were still tightly curled into fists.

Zkarn's smirk had faded slightly.

And Veynn—

Veynn had already turned away.

Orris finally spoke.

His voice was too quiet. "You knew, didn't you?"

Veynn exhaled, adjusting the cuffs of her sleeves. "Knew what?"

Orris's jaw tightened.

"That it was real. That the test wasn't about him being fake."

Veynn smiled just slightly.

"Of course I knew."

Zkarn whistled low. "Cold."

Orris's stomach twisted.

"Then why did you do it?"

Veynn's golden eyes flicked toward him—calm, indifferent.

"Because it had to be done."

A beat of silence.

Then, she turned toward the remaining doors.

"The game isn't over yet."

And before anyone could argue—

She stepped forward.

We all want to believe we control our own destiny.

That our choices define us.

But the truth is…

It's not about our choices at all.

It's about who gets to choose for us.

Xyro never decided to fall.

Someone else did.

And isn't that how life works?

We are shaped by the people who believe in us.

Or—the people who erase us.

And now, Xyro was gone.

The Sky Speaks Again

The world shifted.

The air grew heavier.

And for the first time—the sky did not whisper.

It spoke.

Louder.

Sharper.

"One has fallen."

The words rang through the Labyrinth.

Through every corridor. Every door.

Through the place where Xyro had landed.

Through the places that had yet to be opened.

Then, the voice changed.

Not cruel.

Not amused.

Just… something else.

Something final.

"The game continues."

And that was it.

No grief. No pause.

No moment to process the loss.

Because this was a game.

And games don't stop for the ones who lose.

Xyro

He exhaled slowly, staring up at the impossible ceiling above him.

Then—

Footsteps.

Soft. Careful.

Not Veynn.

Not Zkarn.

Not Orris.

Someone else.

Xyro's fingers twitched toward his dagger. It wasn't there.

The footsteps stopped.

A voice—one he had never heard before—spoke from the shadows.

"Welcome to the second layer."

Xyro's heart stilled.

Second layer?

Means this wasn't over.

He hadn't been erased.

And then, just as he was trying to understand it—

A voice.

Familiar.

Zkarn.

"So, would you start by telling us about yourself?"

Xyro's breath caught.

Not because of the words.

But because… Zkarn wasn't here.

The voice wasn't coming from around him.

It was coming from above.

Like a sound carried by the walls themselves.

Like he was listening to a conversation happening far away.

But before Xyro could process that—

Another voice.

Veynn.

"You wanna know about me?" Her tone was smooth, controlled. "Really?"

Xyro's pulse spiked.

They were talking.

And he could hear them.

Why?

How?

Before he could think further, Zkarn's voice came again—light, amused, but carrying something sharp underneath.

"At least until we get something to eat. We'd know each other better."

A pause.

Then—

"Well, I got one thing about you."

Xyro's fingers curled against his palms.

Veynn's voice was calm. "What?"

Zkarn chuckled. "After what you did to Xyro…" He paused. "…I can trust you."

A lie.

Xyro could hear it. Feel it.

Because what Zkarn actually meant was—I can never trust you.

And yet, Veynn laughed softly, like she already knew.

Xyro's jaw clenched.

He was hearing everything.

He didn't know why.

Maybe—that was part of the test.

To know the truth.

Xyro sat in the quiet dark, his breath slow, steady.

Above him, the conversation continued.

"Fine," Zkarn exhaled, stretching his arms behind his head. "I'll start."

Orris and Veynn watched him carefully.

Zkarn grinned. "I was a businessman."

Veynn arched a brow. "That's a generous word."

Zkarn smirked. "A businessman with an eye for opportunity."

Orris was already frowning. "You mean a scammer."

Zkarn laughed. "You make it sound so ugly."

Then—his smirk faded.

His eyes darkened, just slightly.

"But you're not wrong."

The room grew still.

Zkarn leaned forward, his voice lowering slightly.

"Have you ever heard of the long game?"