The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue across Ichabod's room. I lay in his bed, where the realm of dreams had seamlessly transitioned back to the waking world. My thoughts, a blend of Ichabod's and my own, were still echoing with the conversations from the timeless dimension where I, The Witness, truly belonged.

Sitting up, I felt the peculiar sensation of returning fully to the human form. Ichabod's body, a vessel for my eternal observation, was now also a repository of his own hopes and fear. The previous night's revelations about Amber and the depth of her unspoken feelings continued to resonate within me.

In the quiet of the morning, I went through Ichabod's routine with a heightened awareness. The simple act of choosing what to wear, the familiar process of brushing teeth, and the selection of a book to read later in the day, all took on a new significance. They were more than mere habits; they were rituals that grounded Ichabod in the human experience.

Descending the stairs to the kitchen, I found Ichabod's family already awake, each engaged in their weekend activities. Daisy, his younger sister, was at the table, her schoolbooks spread out before her, a look of concentration on her face.

"Good morning, Ichabod," she greeted without looking up, her focus fixed on her work.

"Morning, Daisy. Studying hard, I see," I replied, adopting Ichabod's playful tone.

His mother, brewing coffee, turned with a smile. "Good morning, dear. Did you enjoy your time at Amber's last night?

"Yes, it was good, we watched a movie and caught up," I said, the memory of the evening casting a warm hue over my words.

As we gathered for a leisurely breakfast, the conversation ebbed and flowed around family plans for the weekend, updates on relatives, and light-hearted discussions about local events. I partook in the dialogue, my responses coloured by Ichabod's personality, yet each interaction was a canvas for my own observations of human dynamics.

After a delightful breakfast, filled with the usual weekend chatter and plans, I retreated to Ichabod's room, pondering how to spend the rest of the day. Just as I settled with a book, Ichabod's phone rang, the screen displaying Nigel's name a classmate from college known more for his social connections than academic pursuits. Nigel and Ichabod weren't particularly close, but their interactions were always cordial, often revolving around the various social events he seemed to constantly orbit.

Answering the call, I braced myself for the usual exuberant energy that Nigel typically exhibited. "Hey Ichabod, my man! How's it going?" Nigel's voice was as energetic as ever.

"Big news, man. I've got us invites to this insane party tonight. It's hosted by none other than Christian LeVine – you know, the guy who's all over social media with his crazy stunts and luxury lifestyle."

I hesitated, knowing that Ichabod wasn't particularly fond of such events. However, my experiences across different times and vessels had made me familiar with high society gatherings, their opulence, and the intricate social dynamics they entailed.

before I could respond, Nigel added, "And hey, Wynter will be there, and you know how she feels about you." A teasing lilt in his voice.

Ah, Wynter. She was Nigel's sister and had never been shy about her interest in Ichabod. Wynter's open affection for Ichabod was something I found intriguing. In my eternal journey as The Witness, I had observed all manners of love and attraction, each unique in its expression. Ichabod's ethereal and unique looks certainly drew attention, making him an object of admiration among many.

"I don't know, Nigel. Parties aren't really my scene..." I said, trying to let him down gently.

"Nah, don't give me that. Look, everyone knows Wynter's got a huge crush on you. But that's not the only reason to come. It's a networking goldmine, Ichabod. You never know who you might meet”.

Then a thought struck me. An event like this could be an interesting experience for Amber, and her presence would make the evening more enjoyable for me in Ichabod's guise. "Actually, can I bring someone along?"

"Of course! The more, the merrier. Who's the lucky person?" Nigel asked, a hint of curiosity in his tone.

"It's Amber," I replied, feeling a sense of anticipation at the prospect of attending the party with her In Ichabod’s guise.

"Amber, huh? Sure thing, Ichabod. Everyone knows she's great fun," Nigel responded, though I could sense his slight disappointment. I knew his real motive for these invitations often involved his sister.

"Great, then. We'll see you there," I said, confirming our attendance.

"Awesome! It's going to be at the Skyline Loft. Dress to impress, alright? See you there, Ichabod!" Nigel ended the call, his excitement undimmed.

After hanging up, I immediately called Amber. Her admiration for the influencer was well-known, and I was sure she'd be over the moon. "Amber, how would you like to join me at an exclusive party tonight, hosted by Christian LeVine I asked.

"You're joking! Ichabod, are you serious? That's incredible! I'm a huge fan! Yes, yes, a thousand times yes!" Amber's voice was a mix of shock and elation.

Her excitement brought a genuine smile to my face. "Thought you'd like that. Nigel arranged the invites. It's going to be quite the experience."

"We're going to have a blast! What time should I be ready?" Amber asked, her voice bubbling with energy.

"Let's meet at my place at 7. The party starts at 8," I replied, feeling a sense of anticipation building.

The hours leading up to the party flew by in a blur of preparation. I chose a sleek, modern outfit that matched the occasion's grandeur, ensuring a balance of style and comfort. Amber arrived looking absolutely stunning, her excitement about the party almost noticeable.

As she stepped through the door, her dress a cascade of shimmering fabric, Amber's presence seemed to light up the room. The dress, a deep shade of midnight blue, hugged her figure gracefully, complemented by tastefully minimal jewellery and her hair styled in loose, elegant waves.

"Wow, Amber, you look amazing," I remarked, genuinely impressed.

Amber beamed, twirling playfully. "Thanks, Ichabod! I figured, it's not every day you go to a party hosted by Christian LeVine And you... I must say, you've outdone yourself.”

I smiled, feeling a sense of camaraderie. "Well, we have to match the exclusivity of the event, right? Shall we head out?"

"Absolutely!" Amber's voice was filled with a mixture of excitement and a hint of nervous anticipation.

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The drive to the venue was filled with vibrant conversation. Amber talked animatedly about the influencer, recounting their most memorable posts and why they resonated with her. "His perspective on things is just so unique, so fresh. It's not just about the glamor; there's depth in their content," she explained passionately.

"I've noticed that" I replied, intrigued by her perspective. "He have a way of connecting with their audience that's quite fascinating."

We speculated about the event as the city lights passed by our windows. "I wonder who else will be there. Do you think it'll be a crowd of influencers and celebrities?" Amber mused, her eyes reflecting the city lights.

These kinds of events usually draw a diverse crowd. It should be interesting to observe the different dynamics," I said, my voice tinged with the observational curiosity characteristic of The Witness.

Amber looked at me, her expression playful yet curious. "You always seem so thoughtful when you talk about people and dynamics. Ever considered your course to psychology or sociology?"

I chuckled lightly at her observation. "No, nothing like that. Just a natural curiosity about people and their interactions."

As we arrived at the party, the grandeur of the venue was immediately striking. A red carpet led to the entrance, flanked by elegant decorations and soft, ambient lighting that gave the area a warm, welcoming glow. The air buzzed with anticipation and excitement. Just outside the entrance, we met up with Nigel and his sister, Wynter. Nigel was dressed in his usual flamboyant style, while Wynter wore a dress that seemed crafted to draw attention.

"Hey, Ichabod! Amber!" Nigel called out, waving us over with a wide grin.

Wynter's eyes locked onto mine the moment we approached, a mixture of eagerness and something akin to determination in her gaze. "Ichabod, you look... amazing,"! And you brought..." She glanced briefly at Amber, seeming less enthusiastic about Amber's presence.

"Thanks, Wynter. You look great too," I replied, trying to keep the conversation polite and neutral.

As we entered the party, the atmosphere was electric, a blend of music, laughter, and lively chatter. Amber's excitement was palpable, and even I could feel the infectious energy of the event.

Amber engaged with Nigel, discussing the influencer and the impressive setup of the party. I could tell she was slightly put off by Wynter's overt attention towards me but was doing her best to enjoy the evening.

Wynter wasted no time in striking up a conversation with me, leaning in close to make herself heard over the music. "I was so hoping you'd come tonight, Ichabod. I've missed our little chats."

Her tone was flirtatious, and I could feel Amber's eyes on us. "It's been a busy semester," I replied diplomatically. "But it's nice to see familiar faces."

As we conversed, I suddenly felt an eerie sensation, it was as if the air around me had shifted, charged with an unseen energy. This presence was something entirely unfamiliar, a projection of an essence I, as The Witness, had never encountered in my numerous lifetimes.

As I tried to grasp the nature of this presence, I felt a sudden, chilling touch on my shoulder. A rush of blurry images bombarded my mind, flashes of a woman's life passing through my consciousness at an overwhelming speed. It was as if I was witnessing a lifetime in mere seconds.

Ichabod's body, unaccustomed to such an intense psychic intrusion, began to falter under the strain. A sharp pain shot through my head, and I instinctively reached up to my eyes. To my horror, I felt a warm, wet sensation. Pulling my hand away, I saw it was stained with blood streaming down from my eyes.

Wynter, noticing my distress, exclaimed in shock, "Ichabod, your eyes!"

Amber and Nigel turned towards me, their expressions changing from excitement to concern. "Ichabod, what's happening?" Amber cried out; her voice laced with panic.

The party around us seemed to fade into a blur, the music and laughter distorting into a distant echo. I struggled to maintain composure of Ichabod’s body, the images still racing through my mind – fragments of the woman's life, her joys, sorrows, and fears.

Nigel stepped forward; his usual confidence replaced with worry. "We need to get him out of here. Now!" Nigel fumbled with his phone, calling for emergency services. The party guests around us recoiled in shock and fear, their expressions a mix of horror and disbelief.

The flood of images ceased as the paramedics arrived, leaving Ichabod’s body exhausted and disoriented. While they worked quickly and efficiently, the muffled sounds of the ongoing party in the background formed a surreal contrast to the emergency around me. Throughout this, Amber remained close by, her voice tinged with worry.

"Ichabod, can you hear me? Just hang in there, okay? We're going to get you to the hospital," Amber said, her hand gripping mine, a comforting presence amidst the chaos.

I tried to respond, to offer some reassurance, but my words were lost in a haze of confusion and weakness. "Amber... I don't understand what's happening..." My voice was barely a whisper, the strength on Ichabod’s body fading.

"It's okay, Ichabod. Don't try to talk. Just focus on breathing," she replied, her tone trying to be strong yet betraying her fear.

The paramedics lifted me onto the stretcher, and I felt a sense of motion as they began to move me through the crowd. The faces of the party guests blurred past, a mix of curiosity and concern in their eyes.

Nigel's voice cut through the din. "We'll be right behind you, Ichabod. I'll drive Amber and Wynter to the hospital."

I felt the cool night air as we exited the venue, the sounds of the party fading into the background. The paramedic leaning over me was asking questions, his voice steady and calm.

"Can you tell me your name, son?" he asked, checking my vitals.

"Ichabod..." I managed to say, the effort draining what little energy Ichabod’s body had left.

"Good, Ichabod. Stay with us. We're taking you to the hospital now. You're going to be okay," he reassured me, but his eyes were searching, clearly concerned about the unexplained symptoms.

As the ambulance doors closed, I caught a final glimpse of Amber, her face stricken with worry, Wynter standing beside her, her usual composure replaced with shock. Nigel was speaking to them, likely trying to offer comfort, but their focus was entirely on me as the ambulance started to move.

Inside the ambulance, the paramedic continued to monitor my condition, speaking into his radio, calling ahead to the hospital. The lights overhead flickered in and out of my fading consciousness.

"Stay with me, Ichabod. We're almost there," the paramedic said, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of confusion and fear that raged inside me.

As we neared the hospital, my thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and dread. The bizarre experience, the rush of images – it was all so surreal, yet frighteningly real. I wondered what had triggered such a phenomenon, what it meant, and why it had chosen this moment to manifest.

The ambulance came to a stop, and I was wheeled out quickly, the hospital staff ready to receive me. The bright lights of the emergency room were disorienting, the voices around me a discordance of urgency and professionalism.

As Ichabod’s body succumbed to unconsciousness, my essence as The Witness transitioned into the realm where I exist in my truest form.

Surrounded by the swirling mists of this otherworldly domain, I contemplated the nature of the vision that had so violently invaded Ichabod's mind.

"A corrupted soul," the thought suddenly came into my consciousness. the concept foreign yet strangely familiar. "An anomaly, a deviation from the natural order of pseudo-souls."

The notion of a corrupt soul was perplexing. In my countless lifetimes, spanning diverse civilizations, I had never encountered such a phenomenon. Yet, the knowledge of its existence and nature seemed ingrained in me, as if it were a latent understanding suddenly awakened.

"How is it that I possess this knowledge?" I wondered aloud, my voice dissipating into the mist. "I have traversed the annals of time, witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations, and yet, the concept of a corrupted soul has never crossed my path."

The realization was disconcerting. It suggested a depth to my existence, a layer of understanding that had been concealed from my conscious awareness. This hidden reservoir of knowledge, now surfacing, hinted at a greater purpose, a design woven into the very essence of my being.

“How did they come to be? What purpose do they serve?" I mused aloud, my voice echoing in the void.

I pondered the implications of such being. Pseudo-souls were designed to be vessels, devoid of self-awareness, yet this pseudo-soul had transcended its original purpose. It seems to carry a fragment of Vanta's power, the unfathomable creator of pseudo-souls and the keeper of all consciousness, including my own. The realization sent ripples through the very essence of my being.

"But why reach out to me?

As I probed deeper into my contemplation, the realm around me began to shimmer with a strange energy. It was as if the very essence of this place was responding to my inquiries, resonating with the gravity of my thoughts.

"Could it be that Vanta Herself is reaching out through this soul?" I wondered, the question hanging in the air like a specter.

I pondered the implications of such an entity. Its existence was a paradox, a challenge to the natural order of things as I knew it.

The role of Vanta in all this was a mystery. As the creator of the pseudo-souls, what was their purpose in allowing such an anomaly? Was it an unintended consequence or part of a greater design?

As The Witness, my journey had always been to observe, to learn, and to chronicle the passage of time. But now, I was faced with a new challenge, one that explored into the very heart of existence and the mysteries that lay beyond the veil of understanding.

With these thoughts lingering in my consciousness, I felt a pull, a gentle tug that signaled my return to Ichabod's body. The realm of my true existence began to fade, giving way to the physical world once more.

As Ichabod’s body gradually regained consciousness, the glaring white of the hospital room came into focus. The soft beeping of machines formed a steady background rhythm, anchoring me to the physical world.

Surrounding my hospital bed was a circle of concerned faces. Ichabod's parents stood close by; their expressions etched with worry. Amber was there too, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, holding my hand as if she feared I might slip away again. Wynter stood slightly apart, her usual confidence replaced by a look of genuine concern. Nigel hovered nearby; his usual buoyancy dampened by the seriousness of the situation.

"Oh, Ichabod, thank God you're awake," his mother whispered, tears glistening in her eyes.

"What happened to you?" his father asked, his voice laden with concern.

I knew I couldn't reveal the true nature of what Ichabod’s body had experienced. I, The Witness and the encounter with the soul were beyond their comprehension. "I... I'm not sure. It all happened so fast “I said trying to sound as bewildered as they were.

Amber squeezed my hand, her voice trembling. "You scared us, Ichabod. There was blood... from your eyes. It was terrifying."

I offered her a weak smile, attempting to ease her worry. "I'm sorry, Amber. I didn't mean to frighten you."

Wynter stepped forward, her usual bravado replaced by a softer tone. "We were all scared. But you're going to be okay now, right?"

Nigel chimed in, "Yeah, man. The doctors said you should be fine, but they want to run some more tests. Do you remember anything?"

The images of the woman and the overwhelming rush of memories flashed through my mind, but I kept my face neutral. "It's all a blur, really. Just a lot of confusion."

I took a moment to absorb their words, the concern and affection they all showed. Each person, here for him in his moment of vulnerability.

The conversation shifted as they all chimed in with relief and light-hearted jokes, trying to dispel the tension that had built up. Amber's laughter was a soothing balm, and even Wynter's overtures seemed less intense, replaced by genuine relief.

After a series of checks and final words from the doctor, I was deemed fit to be discharged. Ichabod's parents insisted on taking me back home. Amber offered to help with anything I needed, her concern still evident, while Nigel and Wynter promised to visit soon.

The drive home was filled with quiet conversation, mostly Ichabod's parents discussing how they would make sure I got plenty of rest. I listened, responding, when necessary, but my thoughts were elsewhere, pondering the encounter with the corrupt soul and the mysteries it presented.