The first knot… has been opened."
The man stood amidst the white sands that began to tremble beneath him like the skin of a living creature. He did not feel fear—not because he was brave, but simply because he did not know what it meant to be afraid. He was devoid of emotion, like a stone opening its eyes.
Grains of sand rose, then exploded upward in a circular column. It was as if the desert had begun to breathe.
The ground split open.
There was no sound of explosion or collapse—only a terrifying calmness, like an old wound deciding to fester.
Beneath the sand… there was no rock, no void.
But a fabric.
A living fabric.
A ground made of flesh.
Throbbing flesh, dark red, pulsing slowly. Each beat gave off a wet sound, like the heartbeat of a dying patient.
And between the folds of that flesh… a passage appeared.
A mysterious passage, shrouded in mist, extending downward with no end in sight.
He did not hesitate.
He did not look back.
He stepped inside.
When his foot touched the fabric of the ground, he did not feel heat, but a sticky coldness, as if the passage were made of a giant tongue. With each step, he heard a faint sucking sound, as though the earth were slowly swallowing him.
The mist around him was not just water vapor. It was something closer to a soul.
As if this place was breathing the presence of those who died with their names unburied.
The passage was not long… yet it never ended.
And when he stopped counting, he began to see.
**
At first, everything was silent.
Then the faces began to appear.
Faceless faces. Floating in the mist like memories stolen from rotting minds.
They were speaking… but not with mouths.
Their words seeped directly into him.
"You… the forgotten one."
"You… the one without a shadow."
"You… the one born from ruins."
He stopped.
He wanted to reply.
But he had no name.
And the unknown cannot answer accusations.
Suddenly… the space opened.
He emerged from the passage into a vast hall.
Its ceiling was endless, and its walls were made of bones, still bleeding cold blood.
And at the center of the hall… a throne.
But not a royal throne.
Rather, a mass of stiffened corpses—some human, some not.
And atop them… something sat.
A being whose features had not yet taken shape. It wore a gray robe with fractured edges, as if it had been cut from twilight itself.
And its eyes… were covered with black gauze.
Yet it saw him.
And spoke in a voice like an old door creaking open in the void:
"Welcome, you who were not summoned."
The man stepped forward without fear.
"Who are you?" he said without speaking, yet the question was heard.
The being replied:
"I am the guardian. I guard the gate of the second knot."
"What are the knots?"
"Chains. Locks. Boundaries. Written upon you before you were born."
"And why was the first opened?"
The being smiled—a smile untouched by centuries.
"Because you slaughtered."
Silence.
He did not remember slaughtering anyone.
But he remembered the beast.
Then he remembered the girl… and her escape.
Then he remembered his hand… piercing flesh without a weapon.
"You are the key to yourself. But every key… kills a door."
Then the guardian pointed to the wall.
Upon it appeared a finely detailed illustration.
It was the man himself… standing in the desert, the beast running, the girl fleeing.
But in the background, there was a shadow.
A shadow with no body.
And it was laughing.
The guardian said:
"Without your shadow, you will not reach. And without your guilt, you will not continue."
"What must I do?"
The guardian raised his hand and pointed to the throne.
"Sit. And face what lies within you."
He approached.
One step…
Two…
Three…
Each step drew a sound from the corpses.
As if everyone who had died here… sighed at his passing.
**
When he sat on the throne, he did not feel comfort… but burning.
He felt his body melt—not in fire, but in confession.
And suddenly… the ground around him split open.
And from it rose voices.
Screams.
Memories.
He saw a child being torn from his mother.
He saw himself in a dark prison, fighting not to be forgotten.
He saw a severed hand… begging for a name.
Then… he saw himself.
Standing before a mirror.
But this time, he had a shadow.
And the shadow… was smiling.
"You've found me," said the shadow.
"But you won't reclaim me… unless you pay the price."
"And what is the price?"
"Your name."
"I have no name."
"No… you forgot. There's a difference."
Then the mirror vanished.
And the shadow vanished.
And the throne vanished.
**
The man awakened.
He was now in a new place.
The same hall… but deserted. No bones, no throne, no guardian.
Only… a door.
A massive door of black metal, marked with a symbol.
A symbol like an open wound.
He approached.
Touched it.
And as soon as he did… the door slowly opened.
Beyond it… a new world.
But before he stepped through, the guardian's voice echoed from the void:
"You have passed the first knot… but the next will not ask who you are. It will show you who you were."
And he entered.