The pages turned faster, almost violently, as if the book had a mind of its own. The words on the pages seemed to dance before my eyes, shifting and twisting into symbols that I recognized, yet couldn't fully comprehend. The language was familiar, but its meaning eluded me, just beyond the reach of my understanding. The more I tried to focus on it, the more my vision blurred, as though something was pulling at the very core of my being.
I could hear my father's voice in my head again, clearer than ever, the warning repeated like a mantra. "Once you open that book, there's no turning back."
But it was too late. I had already opened it. I was already here.
The symbols on the pages began to glow faintly, casting an eerie light in the dim clearing. It was as though the book itself was alive, breathing in sync with my own heartbeat. The air around me felt thick, charged with energy, as if the very forest was watching, waiting.
I couldn't stop. My fingers continued to turn the pages, unwilling to break their grasp. The book seemed to have a power over me, a grip that I couldn't resist. My body trembled, and my breath came in shallow gasps. I could feel the darkness creeping in around me, thick and suffocating, but I couldn't pull away.
Suddenly, the pages stopped turning. The book fell open to a single page, the words now in a language that felt almost… familiar. The letters, though strange, seemed to vibrate in the back of my mind, as if I had always known them.
"To the seeker who has come this far, know this: You are the key. You are the vessel. And the path you have chosen will consume you. But only in the consuming will you find the truth. The truth of the darkness within."
I read the words aloud, and the moment my voice broke the silence, the ground beneath me trembled. The trees around the clearing seemed to shudder as though they had come alive, their branches reaching toward me. The air grew colder, the fog thicker, suffocating every inch of the space. My breath became labored, each exhale visible in the freezing air.
Something shifted in the forest, something ancient and primal. A presence, dark and vast, filled the clearing. The energy was oppressive, suffocating, as if the forest itself was reacting to the words I had spoken. I could hear a low hum, vibrating deep in the earth, a sound that felt both familiar and foreign at the same time.
My fingers continued to tremble as I held the book open, but my body refused to stop. The darkness, the force, was pulling me deeper. I felt like I was being swallowed by it, my consciousness fading, consumed by the very thing I had sought to understand.
The words on the page began to bleed, the ink running like black veins, twisting and turning until the symbols began to form something new, something darker. Faces began to appear on the page—twisted, distorted faces that screamed in silence. Their eyes followed me, their gazes deep, hollow.
I wanted to look away. I wanted to drop the book and run. But I couldn't.
The faces spoke in unison, their voices a whisper that reverberated in my mind. "You are the vessel. The one who will bring the end. The one who will open the gates."
I stumbled back, my heart pounding in my chest, but I couldn't look away. The book felt like an anchor, tethering me to the madness unfolding around me. I was no longer alone in the clearing. The shadows, the dark figures from my mind, were taking shape, rising from the very ground beneath me.
They were everywhere. Watching. Waiting.
I tried to scream, but no sound escaped my lips. The darkness pressed in on me, suffocating my breath, my thoughts, my very being. The air was thick with malevolent energy, the forest itself alive with hunger.
"There is no return," the voices repeated, their whisper a chilling chant that echoed in the stillness. "You are ours now. And we will show you the truth."
I felt the weight of their gaze, the pull of their power, as it wrapped around me like chains. The book in my hands felt like it was burning, searing my skin, but I couldn't drop it. The truth was within reach. The truth that had haunted my father, that had consumed him.
The truth that was now reaching for me.
I don't know how long I stood there, trapped in the grip of the darkness. Time seemed to stretch and bend, the very fabric of reality warping around me. The figures, the faces, they were closing in, their whispers growing louder, their presence suffocating.
And then, I saw it. The gate.
It appeared before me, an enormous door of twisted metal and stone, covered in symbols I couldn't decipher. The very air around it pulsed with energy, and I knew, without a doubt, that this was the key to everything.
The truth. The end.
I stepped forward, my body moving of its own accord, drawn to the gate like a moth to a flame. The whispers intensified, their voices now a deafening roar, but I couldn't stop. The gate was within reach.
But as I reached for it, I saw something in the reflection of the door.
My own face.
But it wasn't my face. It was twisted, distorted, an unnatural grin stretching across my features. My eyes—my eyes were empty, hollow. I looked like a monster.
A shadow passed behind me. My heart stopped as I turned, but there was nothing there. Just the darkness. And then, the whispers came again, louder, clearer:
"Welcome home, Psychobi."
And then, I understood.
This wasn't just a path I had chosen. It was the path that had chosen me.
________
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