Dark Path (Part 3)

The flickering torchlight cast shifting shadows across Anaïs's face, but there was no clarity in her eyes—only a distant, unfocused gaze, as if she were looking somewhere far beyond the room. Elara idly spun the tip of her dagger between her fingers, silently assessing their new guest. Rayen, ever the quiet observer, watched Anaïs's every movement without a word. 

Slowly, Anaïs lifted the rope in her hands and traced a perfect circle on the ground. "This town is bound by an unseen force," she murmured, unease lacing her voice. "And those who remain here… become a part of it." 

Elara smirked, raising a brow. "Well, I already thought this was some elaborate joke, but hearing you say it just makes it better." 

But the moment Anaïs loosened one of the knots in her rope, something strange happened. The floor beneath them trembled—faintly at first, then stronger—like something hidden beneath the ground was taking a slow, deliberate breath. 

Rayen's dagger was in his hand instantly. "What is this?" 

Anaïs turned sharply toward Elara, her expression unreadable, but her voice edged with coldness. "You think this is a joke?" she said, her tone void of amusement. "You've already stepped inside the town. It has marked you. The only thing left to decide… is whether you'll vanish like the rest." 

Elara leaned forward, her smirk never fading. "Or?" 

Anaïs yanked the rope once more, and the floor beneath them suddenly tore open. A hollow void yawned before them—a mass of pure, pulsing darkness, shifting like a living thing. From its depths, faint sounds rose—whispers, cries, desperate echoes of voices long lost… or perhaps, just the wind playing tricks. 

But for the first time, Elara's amusement flickered. 

Anaïs's voice was softer now, almost gentle. "Or you become a part of it, like the others." 

Rayen glanced between the abyss and Anaïs, his expression unreadable. "If this is real," he said evenly, "then there must be a way to break it." 

Anaïs let out the faintest breath of a smile. "There is only one way. You must return to the place where it all began." 

Elara tilted her head, tone dry. "And you're going to tell us where that is?" 

Anaïs lowered her gaze, as if steadying herself. Then, in a quiet voice, she said, "Your footsteps will lead you to a part of this town… that no one has ever seen again." 

Elara considered Anaïs's words, but then glanced around. "The town still looks normal to me…" 

But Rayen felt something strange. The walls of the room—solid just moments ago—seemed to ripple ever so slightly, as if they were swaying in an unseen current. He stepped forward and touched the surface. The moment his fingers brushed against it, a part of the wall simply… faded. Not like crumbling stone, but like mist dissolving into thin air. 

Anaïs inhaled slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. "You don't understand. This town is a breath—it inhales at night and exhales at dawn." 

Elara took a step back. "And the people who stay here overnight?" 

Anaïs lifted her gaze, her expression unreadable. "By morning, they are no longer the ones who arrived." 

Rayen turned to Elara. She usually dismissed strange talk like this with a smirk or a witty remark. But this time, her face was serious. 

Anaïs knelt, picking up her rope once more. Carefully, she traced another circle on the floor. "Come," she said. "There's something you need to see." 

**Scene 10: The House That Changes** 

Anaïs walked with steady but measured steps. With each footfall, the ground beneath them pulsed faintly—like something buried within the earth was alive and stirring. Rayen and Elara followed, but every step forward felt like stepping into a shifting reality. 

This town was unsettling. Every street looked the same, every house a reflection of another. Yet, when they turned a corner into a seemingly different alley, Rayen suddenly stopped. 

"Wait." 

Elara arched a brow. "Now what?" 

Rayen's hand slowly reached for the wooden door of a house. He had seen this place before—perhaps when they first arrived. But there was a problem. "This door… wasn't it old and broken?" he murmured. 

Anaïs said nothing. 

Elara, unfazed, glanced at the building. The door was new—fresh wood, the scent of recent construction still clinging to it. And not just the door. The entire house looked brand new. 

Anaïs cast Rayen a final look before gesturing toward the door. "If you want answers… open it." 

Rayen exhaled sharply, then pushed it open. And what he saw inside turned his blood to ice. 

The room beyond was pristine—polished, untouched, like a house that had just been built. But Rayen and Elara remained frozen in place. A single wooden chair stood in the center of the room. And in it sat a man. 

His back was to them, unnaturally still. No rise and fall of breath. No movement at all. As if he wasn't a person, but a statue. 

"Who… is that?" Elara's voice was barely a whisper. 

Anaïs gave no answer. She stepped forward, reaching out. Her hand rested on the figure's shoulder. 

And then— 

The man toppled forward, collapsing like an empty husk. His face was now visible. 

Rayen's breath caught. His fingers curled into his palms as if his skin itself recoiled in horror. 

Because the man in the chair… was him.