"Who are you? What do you want?"The words came out sharper than the man intended . There was something beneath them he didn't want to name. Fear, probably. Or guilt. Maybe both.
The vendor didn't even blink. Just tilted his head, slow and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world. A smile ghosted across his lips, but it didn't reach his eyes , those eyes were the worst part they were too still, too knowing and calm and unbothered like they'd already read every page of the man's life before he'd even lived it. "I'm just the messenger," the man said, tapping one finger against the mirror's surface. "I carry what you've forgotten." A pause. "You ready to hear it… Jason?"
The name landed like a fist to the sternum. Jason's breath hitched, caught somewhere between his lungs and his throat.
"How do you know my name?"
It came out barely louder than a whisper.
The vendor's gaze stayed locked on him, unblinking. "I've been with you since the beginning. The desert. The village. The palace. When you turned your back on her. When you walked away from your father's expectations." He leaned in, just slightly. "Your name's Jason. It always was."The fog around them seemed to hum alive, sentient, whispering fragments of a name Jason hadn't fully remembered until this very moment. Images started flickering through his head like old film reels: a wooden house with crooked shutters, the soft crackle of a fire in the hearth, a woman's exhausted eyes, a man's quiet resignation. Faces he couldn't quite place but that felt like they belonged to him, like puzzle pieces from a life he'd misplaced somewhere along the way.His horse let out a low, mournful sound that made Jason's chest tighten.
"What am I supposed to do?" His voice came out rough and exhausted "I already messed up." He gestured vaguely toward the ruins of the palace, now nothing but sand and silence and the ghosts of his own mistakes, the vendor leaned closer, his voice dropping to something almost conspiratorial. "You took down Pride's face. But its shadow? That's still clinging to you." He pushed the mirror forward. "You want the truth? Look."
Jason hesitated. The mirror was clearer now, impossibly so. His own reflection stared back it was worn, scarred, older than he remembered being. But behind it, something moved. Crowds cheering his name. Coins spilling from open hands like water. A throne made of gold that gleamed with a light that had nothing to do with the sun.
He saw himself reaching for it, eyes wild with something that looked an awful lot like hunger.
"That's not me."
Even as he said it, he knew it was a lie.
The vendor's smile widened just a fraction. "You've let go of the god complex. But what about the hunger? The need to take more than you need?"Jason stepped back, heart hammering against his ribs. "I don't want anything."The words rang hollow in the desert air.
The mirror pulsed with a light of its own. It showed him things he hadn't asked to see , his hand clutching a crown like a lifeline, arms overflowing with jewels that glittered with false promises, a city glowing on the horizon like it was calling his name in a voice only he could hear ,his horse snorted sharply and nudged him hard, trying to snap him out of whatever trance was taking hold.
The vendor stood, and his shadow stretched unnaturally long across the sand, defying the position of the sun. "You can't hide from me," he said, voice softer now, almost gentle. "I'm the messenger. I see what you bury." A pause. "You want glory. Power. A name that lasts. But you can't have everything, Jason. You have to choose."The desert went quiet , that particular kind of quiet that feels like the world is holding its breath.
"Choose what?" Jason snapped.
The vendor's eyes met his, heavy with something that might've been understanding. "Take everything, or let it go. That's the deal. It always has been."
Before Jason could respond, before he could even process what that meant—the vendor vanished. Just gone, like he'd never been there at all. The mirror dropped into the sand with a soft thud that felt far too final. he fog thickened immediately, curling around him like it had a mind of its own, like it had been waiting for this exact moment. His horse reared, crying out in alarm, and Jason grabbed the reins with both hands.
"Hold on!"
The fog swallowed them whole.
When Jason hit the ground, it knocked the wind clean out of him. He lay there for a moment, gasping, before forcing his eyes open , the fog was gone. in its place was a city that looked like it had been built from the fever dreams of kings and madmen. Towers of gold stabbed into a blood-red sky. The streets glittered with silver coins that seemed to multiply even as he watched. The air smelled like metal and spice and something sickly sweet like temptation itself had a scent.
His horse stood beside him, but something was wrong. Its coat looked dull, lifeless. Its eyes were wide and hungry in a way that made Jason's stomach turn.Treasure was everywhere. Cups, rings, swords, all gleaming, all somehow whispering his name in voices too quiet to quite hear.
"Who's there?"
His voice echoed back at him, mocking.
No answer came, but the shadows moved anyway. Lanterns dimmed and brightened in no particular pattern. Hands or things that looked like hands reached from the walls themselves, offering jewels, offering promises, offering everything he'd ever wanted.
Take it, Jason. It's yours.
A new voice slithered into his ears. Not the vendor's this one was smoother, slicker, like a salesman who knew he was lying but had perfected the art of making you want to believe him anyway.
"You've earned this," it purred. "You've come too far to leave empty-handed."
Jason found himself moving toward a pile of coins before he'd consciously decided to do it. He reached out, touched one. It was warm,alive, pulsing like it had a heartbeat. A vision slammed into him: a life without pain, without need, without the constant ache of wanting. Lara's face fading to nothing. His name etched into every hall, every monument, lasting forever.
The horse nudged him again, harder this time. Its eyes were clear now, cutting through whatever spell the city was weaving. Don't. Jason dropped the coin. The sound of it hitting the ground vanished into the city's constant hum.
The ground trembled. Words carved themselves into a golden wall, appearing letter by letter:
"What do you want that you already have, but lose when you take more?"
Jason stared at the riddle, his mind spinning.The voice laughed,soft and sharp, like broken glass wrapped in silk. "Answer, or stay here forever."
He closed his eyes. The horse pressed against him, steady and warm and real.
"Enough," he said quietly. Then louder: "I've got enough. I had enough."
The wall cracked down the middle. A path opened, narrow and dark.But the treasures glowed brighter, burning with renewed intensity, begging him to stay, promising him everything he'd ever dreamed of and more, so he took a step toward the path then stopped.
The city dimmed. The horse screamed,an awful, otherworldly sound. The ground shook hard enough to knock him off balance. The voice laughed again, but this time it came from inside him, from somewhere deep in his chest where he'd buried all his worst impulses.
"It's who you are."
The lanterns flared to life, blinding. A figure materialized in front of the path eyes like freshly minted coins, hands holding a crown that burned with red-hot fire. The path behind it twisted, leading deeper into the city's hungry heart.
The air grew thick, sweet, suffocating. It promised more than gold. It promised something that could consume him completely, fill every empty space inside him until there was nothing left but the wanting.
Jason stared at the figure. It looked wrong in ways his brain struggled to process creepier than anything he'd faced before, more unsettling than the palace or the desert or any of it.Something told him that this encounter would be different more terrifying and brutal than he can handle,and there will be no voice, no vendor here to show him the way out.