Ikai Liu slowly stood up, his movements cautious and uncertain. Every word in his head sounded like an echo.
He took a step closer to the wall, where the glow formed a mysterious shape – almost a figure, a blurred spot on the cold stone. This shape, as if alive, drew his attention, beckoning him.
There, in the depths, as if in some otherworldly mirror, something stirred, bringing a sense of unease to his world.
Ikai froze, as if frozen in a moment where reality and imagination merged. He couldn't take his eyes off the mysterious light that seemed to pulse like a living creature.
He no longer felt alone. This feeling engulfed him. It wasn't because someone was nearby.
His inner world was filled with new emotions and thoughts that kept him restless. It was because he was lost in a sea of his own thoughts and fears. An internal conflict erupted into a storm.
He realized that not only had the space around him changed, but so had he, his perception of reality. The sense of loneliness that had once been his constant companion was now nothing more than an illusion.
He felt his own thoughts and fears seeping into his mind, creating anxious images. Every movement of light on the wall seemed to reflect his inner state. It was as if he were staring into an abyss, where his own fears and doubts were taking shape.
At that moment, Ikai realized that his existence was not just a physical presence in this world.
It was a deep dive into his inner world, where he sought answers to questions he had never asked. He stood before the mirror of his soul, and this process revealed new facets of his personality.
The world twitched, as if life had decided to take a sharp turn. The air, which had previously seemed familiar and calm, suddenly stretched into ribbons of light and shadow, creating a sense of unnatural and distorted space.
Every element of the world around him, from the blades of grass to the clouds, seemed to have changed its nature. Ikai blinked, and in the blink of an eye, he was no longer there.
***
He was kneeling, lost in a dark contemplation. But these were not his knees. A foreign body, foreign fingers, bony and scarred, as if they had experienced a great deal of suffering.
Symbols were burned into his skin, like the marks of an ancient ritual. Each symbol was not just a mark, but a story filled with pain and loss.
His hands trembled, as if under the pressure of an invisible force. His cracked lips whispered words that could not find peace in his mind.
"I... I can't see anymore. But I still know. He is nearby. He... breathes through the ashes."
Tears, viscous and black as tar, dripped onto the floor, leaving dark trails that reminded him of sadness and loss.
In front of him stood an altar, mysterious and sacred, seemingly designed for special rituals and ceremonies.
There was a star on it, but it was distorted, lopsided, as if it had been painted by blind artists who lacked the proper perception of form and beauty.
Each facet of the star was a testament to the suffering that had gone into its creation.
"I'm sorry."
A foreign throat whispered, filled with bitterness and remorse.
"I was the first to break. I left the door open. And I opened it. Now you... you..."
The words, spoken with such heaviness, seemed to bring a shadow with them. In that moment, everything disappeared. The space around them darkened, as if reality itself was pulling away from them.
An oppressive silence hung in the air, weighing heavily on their chests. Only fragments of memories remained in their minds, like pages of an old book, covered in dust and forgotten sins.
Each of them, trapped in this strange place, carried the burden of choice. There was no escape, no comfort. Only the realization that a single door could change everything.
Each step towards the altar became increasingly difficult. Questions multiplied, but there were no answers. Why did this happen? How long will this torment last?
The stranger's throat froze, leaving only a slight whisper in the air, reminding them that they were connected by invisible threads.
Threads that were made of fear and regret. Time stood still, and in this space filled with darkness, they were merely a shadow of their former selves.
***
Ikai cried out, clutching his chest as if someone had squeezed his lungs in a vise.
The air returned with a pain that pierced his entire being like sharp needles. The dust in his lungs left him with an unpleasant feeling, as if he had been trapped in a room full of old and forgotten memories.
A sticky sweat covered his forehead, as if he had just survived a hot battle. He was back in his body. Back in his hell, which never left him for a second.
"It wasn't just a memory, it was him. The first one. The memories that haunted him. I saw through his eyes, feeling every fear, every flutter in his heart."
"I felt his confession, bitter and unbearable. He was a prisoner of his own emotions, and his soul was searching for a way out."
He stood up, swaying, as if his body had been wrung out like a sponge. His heart was beating like a trapped animal, desperate to break free.
Every beat echoed in his head like a thundering drum, causing him to become increasingly anxious. The world around him seemed blurred, as if he were watching it through tears.
He felt as reality began to fade, and the shadows of the past became more and more intrusive.
"I... don't want to be the next one." He whispered, as if exhaling his very life. "I don't want to be anyone's legacy. Not even the stars."
Behind him, the sand stirred as if it were alive. In the wall, letters appeared as if from nowhere. He had never seen them before. But they knew his name.
His head was throbbing. His fingers clenched into dust. He was alone. The stone beneath him was warm, as if someone had just sat there before him.
"The star is silent. But this silence is not rest. It is... waiting."
Ikai stood up slowly, looking around. Another niche in the wall – but not crude like before. This one was carved precisely, with an eerie symmetry. Almost ritualistic.
Inside, a scroll, neatly rolled, protected from the ravages of time by a leather tube. It was almost pristine, as if someone had just left it behind. Or… especially for him.
He opened it:
"Entry #2"
"This text is not a prayer, nor a confession. It is an observation. I am the Second. And if you are reading this, then the Star has made a new choice."
"The First was wrong. He listened to his feelings, and believed in the voices. He thought that pain was the truth. I am not him. I am studying."
"Each limb of the star is not just a force. It is a reaction. It is a response to the state of your mind, to what you are hiding from yourself."
"When I awakened the First, I felt nothing. I only observed. The walls were shaking. I stopped seeing faces. I started seeing intentions."
"You think you are carrying the star. But you are not. It is carrying you."
Ikai held his breath. The lines were different from the previous entries. There was no fear in them. There was only logic, coldness, and detachment.
"I wandered in a loop where space echoed itself, but with a flaw. The sand whispered a different story than before. The footsteps, like ghosts, only vaguely resembled my own. Every step here was not just a touch on the ground, but an echo, a response in the labyrinths of memory. You don't walk; you remember."
"When a mirror of ash appears before you, do not look for a reflection of yourself. Look through it."
"And above all, remember: if their names begin to sound in the silence, know that you have reached the Limit."
The scroll ended.
The last line dissolved into the air like a trail of ash in the wind. The light faded, and with it, the feeling of being watched. The void spread around like the fading tremors of a scream.
Ikai remained seated. He didn't even notice how his fingers were still clenched around his knees, his nails digging into the fabric. There was a buzzing in his head. Not a noise, not pain — something deeper.
"All this was carefully thought out: his appearance, his "search", his role. He was neither the first nor the last, not the chosen one, but only the next, only the step, only the "Third"
And there was something unbearably ordinary about it.
As if even tragedy had long ago become a mechanism.
He looked at the wall and saw.
A new name, written in small letters under the symbol:
"Third. Ming Jae... the new Ikai Liu."
He sat for a long time, until the dust began to settle on his shoulders.
The sky didn't move. The shadows didn't change. Time seemed to have stopped here, not because it didn't exist, but because it no longer wanted to move forward.
The scroll with the Second's record lay nearby.
The words continued to buzz in his head.
"You don't walk on the ground. You walk on memory."
"You are the Third."
"When you start hearing their names..."
He looked at the wall again:
"Min Jae."
"That's not the name they called me here."
He croaked out hoarsely.
Ikai Liu, homeless, abandoned, empty. A name given to forget.But Min Jae was him, before all of this.
His throat constricts.
"They couldn't know the name. No one. Only me… only me… and the star."
"So… she knows. She remembers, looks, and chooses at the end"
Ikai Liu rose to his feet and stepped back abruptly, as if the walls might suddenly clamp their invisible teeth on him. His breath catches and a cold shiver runs down his back, despite the warmth of the room.
His heart was pounding against his ribs, and each desperate beat echoed like the drumbeat of an impending doom.
The star-shaped scar on his chest tightened into a knot under his skin. It burned with a dull, aching fire, as if it were a testament to his very existence.
"What are you doing to me?"
He whispered, Ikai's s voice barely audible over the pounding of his own pulse. His fingers trembled as he clenched them into fists, his nails digging into his palms.
"Why... me?"
The words hung in the air, heavy with despair and unanswered questions.
There was no response. Only silence – thick, suffocating silence that pressed against him like a physical force. It wrapped around his shoulders, squeezing his lungs until he felt he couldn't take a full breath.
Ikai Liu turned away abruptly, his shoulders taut as if he was trying to shrug off an invisible weight. At first, his steps were uncertain, but each step was measured and deliberate.
He took one step to the side, then another, his mind filled with unspoken questions and fears. But on the third step, he froze mid-stride, his foot hovering in the air before slowly settling back to the ground.
Something had caught his attention – or rather, his feet. The sand beneath him had been disturbed, not by the wind, but by footprints that seemed almost burned into the surface.
They were not carved with a blade or engraved by hand; instead, they looked as if they had been burned into the sand by intense heat, with the grains merging into a dark trail.
Curiosity and fear battled within him as he leaned in, lightly touching the strange letters with his fingers.
The words were simple, but they carried such weight that his breath caught. He read them aloud, and the words echoed in the silence:
"The true Ikai Liu - Turned to Ashes."
"Ming Zhe - Came from the Ashes."