Chapter 6 : The prisoner of the tower

Domgis stood, swaying on his tired legs. The glass heart loomed before him, massive and oppressive. It pulsed slowly, but each beat reverberated in his head like a deafening drum. His thoughts were chaos, torn between the urge to move forward and a strange weariness, as if his mind was trying to give up.

Then, he felt something move. Not around him, but within him. His legs refused to obey. Like puppets controlled by an invisible force, they began to retreat.

"No!" Domgis growled, clenching his teeth, but his words were lost in the muffled hum of the heart.

"Why do you fight?" whispered a voice, soft as the murmur of a dream. It's pointless.

Domgis felt his body being pulled backward. His feet slid across the smooth floor of the tunnel, and he could do nothing to resist. The mirrors around him reflected versions of himself that seemed calmer, resigned, almost smiling.

"You know this isn't the first time," the voice continued. "Every time, you come back here. Every time, you forget."

Domgis fought with all his strength, but his body no longer belonged to him. A pale light enveloped him, and suddenly, the tunnel disappeared.

***

He opened his eyes, lying in his room again. The stone walls were exactly the same. The lamp burned softly on the table. He was home, in this cave he had always known. But a weight pressed on his chest.

He sat up slowly, watching his hands tremble. This time, he wasn't sure. Was this real? Or was it another illusion?

"It's real, Domgis," the voice whispered in his head, almost soothing. Stay here. Forget the tunnel. Forget the heart.

He wanted to respond, but the words died in his throat. He stood up, barefoot on the icy floor. Everything seemed so… normal. Yet, something nagged at him, something imperceptible he couldn't quite define.

He examined every corner of his room, searching for a clue. The books were stacked exactly as he had left them. The table was covered in half-finished sketches. But there was that lamp. Always the lamp.

Domgis leaned in to examine it more closely. The flame remained still, frozen, even when he blew on it. It felt so unnaturally artificial that his mind began to waver.

And suddenly, reality shattered.

The room dissolved around him, and Domgis found himself suspended in the void. Dozens of fragments of his room spun around him, pieces of illusions endlessly reassembling.

"This is just a dream!" he screamed, struggling against the invisible pull dragging him toward a new scene.

"Dream or reality, what does it matter?" murmured the voice. Rest. Give up.

He landed abruptly, back in his bed. Everything seemed perfect, identical. But Domgis wasn't fooled this time. He rushed out of his house. When he tried to leave, he felt a force pushing him back, as if the outside was sealed by a will far greater than his own.

"You were more docile before," the voice whispered, now sounding slightly irritated. "At one point, you couldn't even get close to me. But this… it's just a phase. You'll give in eventually."

Domgis clenched his fists.

"You're seriously starting to annoy me. Is this really all you can do? Pick on me?" he snapped, his voice a mix of irritation and disdain, his sharp gaze betraying his growing frustration.

A low laugh echoed in the space, mocking. The scenery collapsed once more, hurling him back into the tunnel of mirrors. But this time, his body was dragged forcefully toward the entrance, his feet sliding against his will.

"You can't hold me forever," he spat, his nails scraping the smooth floor in a futile attempt to resist.

"Maybe not," the voice replied, "but I can make you forget. Again. And again."

Domgis screamed in rage. At that moment, he felt a resistance weaken, as if something in this endless repetition was beginning to crumble. The heart's beats slowed. The light grew dimmer.

He knew he wasn't done with this thing. But he also knew that, this time, he remembered. And as long as he remembered, he could fight.