the dark mirror

The fire burned slowly, its sparks dissolving into the darkness like lost souls. Despite his exhaustion from training, Darius couldn't sleep. Something about this place felt off. It wasn't just the darkness—it was the feeling that he wasn't alone.

The wind stopped suddenly. Not a natural pause… but a complete, unnatural silence, as if the world itself had lost its breath. Even the crackling flames grew muted.

Then he heard it.

Footsteps.

Not distant, not coming from the forest… but right behind him.

A cold shiver crawled up his spine. He didn't turn around. No, he shouldn't turn around.

"Darius."

The voice came from behind him, yet it wasn't a stranger's voice.

It was his own.

His eyes widened, his lungs froze for a moment. No, that's impossible.

But the voice came again, this time closer, whispering:

"Look at me."

Everything felt unreal. Even gravity seemed to shift as if his body was floating slightly, like the world itself was no longer stable.

A cold hand touched his shoulder.

His heart clenched.

Slowly… ever so slowly… he turned around.

And he saw himself.

Standing there, in the darkness. His face was identical, yet… lifeless. His skin was pale, his eyes like bottomless black voids. He didn't move like a living being, but like a shadow given form.

Darius felt his breath betray him, the air around him thick like water, forcing him to drown in this new reality.

But there was something else…

Lutfi's words echoed in his mind, tangled with the fear creeping over him.

"No matter what happens… don't panic… don't move… don't speak."

He had repeated it clearly, over and over during training.

But this?

This wasn't just training.

And yet, Darius couldn't help it. He couldn't stop the tremble in his body, nor could he hold back the words that slipped from his lips:

"Who… are you?"

The dark figure tilted its head, its smile stretching unnaturally, as if devouring its own face.

"Me?"

Its voice was a distorted echo of Darius' own.

"I am you, Darius."

The ground trembled. The trees surrounding them were no longer trees… but twisted, intertwined bodies, screaming without a sound.

Darius tried to step back, but his feet wouldn't move. He wasn't physically restrained—his mind simply refused to respond. Reality had become a cage, and his consciousness was the prisoner.

"You've been running for too long."

The entity was no longer smiling. It took a step closer, its voice no longer a whisper but a presence inside his head.

"But I've found you now."

Something inside him shattered. It wasn't ordinary fear—it was a lost truth returning to its place.

Then, without warning, the entity raised its hand…

And plunged it into Darius' chest.

It wasn't physical pain. It was the sensation of something pulling at his soul, as if his very existence was being ripped away—as if someone was stealing him.

Darius opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

He was being pulled… erased…

Then—

"Wake up!"

A forceful strike to his chest sent him collapsing backward, gasping for air. His lungs exploded with breath, as if he had been drowning and had just broken through the surface.

Lutfi was above him, gripping him tightly.

"Damn you, you were delirious! You almost lost yourself!"

Darius shuddered, looking around. He was still in the forest, the fire still burning. There was no one else there.

But when he looked at his hands…

His fingers were trembling, covered in something dark… as if he had touched something he was never meant to.

"What is happening to me…?"

Lutfi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled sharply, as if restraining his anger. Then, in a low but firm voice, he said:

"Did you forget my training, you idiot? Let me guess… you saw the mist in your nightmare, didn't you?"

Darius couldn't respond. He only stared at him with lost eyes.

Lutfi took a step closer, his tone turning even more serious, even sharper:

"Stop trembling like a child. You're not the only one this has happened to. Even I… in the past… saw it when I let my guard down…"

Darius slowly lifted his gaze to Lutfi.

"So… you too…?"

Lutfi didn't answer immediately, but his eyes said everything.

"The difference between you and me," Lutfi finally continued, "is that I didn't panic."

Darius felt a sting of humiliation, but before he could respond, he noticed something—Lutfi's expression had suddenly changed.

His eyes narrowed. His body tensed. As if he had seen something that shouldn't exist.

Then, without warning, he grabbed Darius by the collar, pulling him close, staring directly at his chest.

"What is this?"

Darius, despite his exhaustion and confusion, looked down—and froze.

On his skin, directly above his heart, was a mark that hadn't been there before. It wasn't just a scar or some vague symbol—it was clear, precise, as if it had been engraved upon him since birth.

A shape resembling a twisted bone, wrapped in shadows, with a translucent thread in the center, writhing like a trapped soul.

Or at least, that's how he perceived it…

Lutfi exhaled sharply, his eyes now filled with genuine concern.

"Shit…"

Darius, despite the tingling sensation in his skin, didn't understand the gravity of the situation.

"What… what does this mean?"

Lutfi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he lifted his gaze to Darius with a dark expression.

"This isn't just a nightmare, Darius."

He took a step back, as if what he had seen had confirmed his worst fears.

"You didn't just see the mist… you saw something stronger."

Darius didn't know how to respond. He could feel the mark, a faint pulse, as if it was alive—as if something inside him had awakened with it.

Lutfi turned quickly, his tone sharp and decisive:

"We need to go."

"Go where?"

"To someone who can explain what's happening to you."

Darius, despite the chaos in his mind, could only feel one thing:

This… was no mere nightmare.

And this… was only the beginning.