Ryan stood in a hallway.
Or… he thought he was standing.
The floor was made of something that shimmered between stone, glass, and ash. His reflection stared up at him — but it wasn't his face. It shifted. A boy. A monster. A hollow shell. A scream echoed, far and distant, like a memory someone tried to burn.
The hallway stretched infinitely in both directions. No ceiling. Just a sky of black velvet and unmoving stars — yet even the stars flickered as if they too were afraid of being remembered.
"This isn't real," Ryan whispered.
His voice didn't echo.
No sound. No weight. No presence.
He was not real here.
And then — a whisper.
Not a sound.
A loss.
"Why do you struggle?"
The hallway shuddered.
Ryan spun, heart racing, but saw no one. Only shadows — like ripples in tar. They slithered across the walls like veins, trailing green and violet sparks.
"You try so hard to hold a name. A face. But you are nothing more than what they gave you."
