CHAPTER 6 – SHADOWS OF THE PAST
The moment Grey and the others stepped into the maze; an eerie silence engulfed them. The towering walls of gnarled roots twisted unnaturally, pulsing with a faint glow as if the very air was alive. Shadows flickered, whispers filled the space, and soon, they were no longer together.
Grey’s breath hitched as the others vanished before his eyes. The oppressive air thickened, and the world around him shifted.
He was standing on a familiar street, the scent of rain lingering in the air. His childhood home stood before him, lights flickering warmly inside. It was a memory he had buried deep—a moment before everything had changed.
The door creaked open.
Inside, his parents sat at the dining table, smiling as they beckoned him forward. His mother’s soft voice called out, “Grey, come sit. We were waiting for you.” His father gave him a warm nod, as if nothing had ever gone wrong.
Grey felt his chest tighten. He took slow steps forward, wanting to believe, to fall into this warmth. But deep inside, a whisper of doubt gnawed at him.
“They’re gone,” he reminded himself. “This isn’t real.”
Yet the warmth, the familiarity—it was suffocating.
His mother reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. “You don’t have to fight anymore, my dear. Just stay here with us.”
Grey’s vision blurred. The pain of loneliness threatened to drown him. What if he just stayed? What if he never had to return to that brutal world again?
But then, a sharp voice echoed in his mind: “Wake up.”
It wasn’t his own. It wasn’t his mother’s.
It was Lira’s.
The illusion cracked like glass. The warmth turned cold. His parents’ eyes turned hollow, faces twisting into grotesque, empty shells. Grey stumbled back as the walls of his home collapsed into darkness.
The maze had tried to trap him in his past. He clenched his fists, forcing himself forward. He would not be controlled.
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Amy’s Trial – The Shattered Doll
Amy stood in a familiar hallway. The wallpaper was peeling, the air was damp, and the sound of a clock ticking echoed eerily. Her childhood home.
A voice, sharp and venomous, pierced the silence.
“Useless girl.”
She froze. The words came from the dimly lit room ahead. Slowly, she stepped inside, her hands trembling.
Her father stood there, arms crossed, face twisted in contempt. Behind him, her mother sat silently, eyes downcast, avoiding her gaze.
“You think you’re strong?” Her father scoffed. “You’re nothing. Always crying, always weak.”
Amy clenched her fists. She was strong. She had survived. She had left this place behind.
But why did it still feel so real? Why did the pain feel fresh?
“I’m not weak,” she whispered.
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Her father’s figure loomed over her. “Then why are you still afraid?”
Amy’s breath hitched. Shadows twisted around her, turning into chains that wrapped around her wrists, dragging her down.
“No…” She gritted her teeth. “Not anymore.”
A burst of light erupted from her, and the illusion shattered. The house dissolved into mist, and she found herself kneeling in the maze, sweat dripping down her face.
She gasped for breath. She had escaped.
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Aria’s Trial – The Mocking Laughter
Aria stood in a schoolyard, surrounded by faceless figures. Laughter rang in her ears.
“Freak.”“Weak.”“She doesn’t belong here.”
She clutched her arms tightly. Even here, in another world, the whispers followed her.
Her childhood self-stood in the center of the group, crying, hands covering her ears.
“Stop it…” Aria whispered.
The laughter grew louder. The faceless figures loomed over her, their voices blending into a deafening roar. You will always be weak. Always be alone.
Aria squeezed her eyes shut, shaking. But then—soft warmth touched her fingertips.
Spirits.
Tiny lights flickered around her, brushing against her skin gently. They whispered something different.
You are not alone.
Aria took a deep breath and stood tall. The voices of the past didn’t matter anymore.
“I’m not weak,” she declared.
The illusion trembled. The laughter faded into silence.
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Anthony’s Trial – The Empty Orphanage
Anthony walked through the dark halls of an old orphanage, the scent of dust and decay filling his nose. He recognized the place immediately.
He had grown up here.
A small figure sat on the edge of a bed—a younger version of himself, curled up, staring at the floor.
“You were always alone,” a deep voice whispered behind him.
Anthony turned. A shadowy figure towered over him, faceless, yet overwhelming.
“You trained, you fought, but in the end, no one was ever there for you.”
Anthony clenched his fists. He had felt that loneliness every day of his life.
But he had made a choice.
“I wasn’t alone.” His voice was firm. “I had myself. And that was enough.”
A spark of light cut through the darkness. The illusion shattered.
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JACKSON’S TRIAL – THE FALSE PROTAGONIST
Jackson found himself standing in the middle of a battlefield. The sky was painted in hues of red, filled with the clashing sounds of swords, magic, and screams. But none of it mattered—because he was standing above all of them.
He was the hero.
Draped in a majestic cloak, a legendary sword in his hand, he looked down at the lifeless bodies of monsters and enemies alike. He could hear the gasps of admiration from his allies, the people chanting his name.
"Jackson! Jackson! The Chosen One!"
His heart swelled. Yes. This was it. This was the world he had always dreamed of.
A world where he mattered. A world where he was special.
"You've finally realized it, haven't you?" a voice spoke beside him.
He turned, and there stood a figure in regal armor—himself, but stronger. A perfected version. The kind of protagonist who never lost, never doubted, never failed.
Jackson grinned. "Of course. This is my world."
The other Jackson smirked. "Then prove it."
Before he could react, his perfect self-lunged at him, slashing with speed beyond human comprehension. Jackson barely had time to block, his own sword feeling sluggish, weak. His feet slid backward, the weight of the attack nearly knocking him down.
"You're pathetic," the voice sneered. "You think just because you were brought here, you're the main character?"
Jackson gritted his teeth. "I—"
The other Jackson pressed forward. "You're just a side character. No, worse. You're an NPC."
Jackson gasped as his body suddenly felt heavy. His sword cracked. His armor faded into rags. The battlefield disappeared, and he found himself in a dark void.
"Why did you even come here?"
"Because... this world... it's where I belong," Jackson whispered.
The perfect Jackson laughed. "Then why are you so weak?"
His vision blurred. The truth clawed at his mind—was he really just delusional? Was he nothing more than a bystander in someone else’s story?
"No..." Jackson muttered, shaking his head. "That's not true. I—"
"You always hated the real world," the voice continued. "Because there, you were nobody. And here, you're still nobody."
Jackson clenched his fists. No. He wouldn't accept that.
"I don't need to be the main character," he growled. "I just need to be strong enough to survive!"
With that, he swung his broken sword, shattering the illusion.
Jackson collapsed to his knees, panting as he found himself back in the maze. His body trembled, his mind racing.
But he had survived.
And for now, that was enough.
One by one, they all broke free from their illusions, their minds shaken but their resolve unbroken.
As they stumbled forward, the twisting maze of roots slowly receded.
They had survived the first trial. But the World Tree had only just begun to test them.
Chapter 6 – Shadows of the Past
To be continued in Chapter 7…