It’s hard to describe the way the forest feels, especially in moments like this. It’s this eerie, suffocating silence—like the air itself is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. I was standing at the edge of the clearing, just… staring at the coffin. My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest, I thought the forest could hear it. Every breath I took felt heavier than the last, like the weight of the forest itself was pressing down on me, demanding something I wasn’t sure I was ready to give.

I reached out for the lid. My hand trembled as I hovered above the cold wood, but some force—something primal, deep inside me—urged me forward. I couldn’t back out now, could I? I had already come this far. The choice was made the moment I stepped into this nightmare. I had to open the coffin. I had to face whatever was inside, even if that meant facing myself.

I swallowed hard, the taste of fear thick in my mouth, and for a brief moment, I thought about turning around. But I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. Not after everything. Not after everything I had seen and lived through. My own death? It had always felt like a shadow trailing behind me, something inevitable. But this? This felt like the moment I could no longer deny it.

With a sudden, almost violent motion, I lifted the lid.

The coldness in the air around me was immediate. The forest seemed to lean in, as though it was watching closely, like the trees were peering over my shoulder. And when I looked down, the sight before me hit like a physical blow. Inside the coffin was a body. Not some ancient treasure, not gold or riches, not some miraculous item that could pull me out of this nightmare. No, it was just a body. Mine.

I couldn’t breathe. There I was—lying lifeless in the coffin, a younger version of myself. His eyes were empty, glassy, and staring straight at me. The same angular jaw. The same dark hair. The same eyes I once had—eyes that had grown tired over the years, hollowed out by this endless cycle. The body was pristine, untouched by time, almost unnaturally perfect, as though it had been preserved in some strange stasis. There were no marks, no signs of decay. It looked too perfect.

My chest tightened. I felt the panic rising in my throat, suffocating me. This wasn’t a coincidence. This wasn’t some strange twist of fate. This… was me. The Adam who had first come to the forest. The Adam who had received the invitation. The Adam who had opened the first coffin and set this entire loop into motion.

The realization hit me like a thunderclap.

The forest, the coffins, the skeletons—none of it had ever been about treasure. About escape. About anything I thought it was. It was always about me. I was the treasure. The object of desire. I was the one they were after all along. The invitation wasn’t for gold or power or some ancient artifact. It was for me. For my death. For my endless, eternal death.

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And the worst part? It made sense. Every person I’d met in the forest—every single one of them—had been a version of me. A reflection, a fractured version of who I was. Elias? He wasn’t some outside force who had lured me here. No, Elias had been me, too. Just like every other person, every other face I had encountered in this damnable forest. They were all pieces of me, fragmented, scattered throughout the woods.

The invitation had always been for me. My death. My rebirth. My endless journey through this twisted place. The others? They were just fragments of my identity, pulled into the cycle by my own desires, my own actions. It was always me. Always.

I stood there, staring down at the body, and an overwhelming sense of loss washed over me. I had been that man—the one before the forest. The Adam who had been whole, unbroken. Before the invitation. Before the loop. Before everything. He was me. But now, all that remained was this hollow shell. This endless, futile journey I had set into motion.

There was no escape. I knew that now. No matter what I did. No matter how many times I died, how many times I tried to break free, I would never leave this place. The cycle would never stop. The loop would continue. And I would always be a part of it. This was my fate. My purpose. I was the one who would keep the cycle going.

A laugh escaped me—dark, bitter. It rose from deep within me, like some sickness I couldn’t shake off. The forest was closing in around me. Its twisted branches reached for me, like hands pulling me deeper into the abyss. I had no choice but to carry the invitation forward.

But how? How could I do that? I had no answers, no real plan. The only thing I knew with certainty was that the forest had claimed me. I was the key. The treasure. The prize. The forest had won. There was no way out.

Then, as if in some final, horrifying moment of clarity, I understood what I had to do. The only way to break the cycle was to continue it. The only way to end it… was to feed it. To become Elias. The stranger. The one who had walked into the forest first, the one who had been invited.

I didn’t have a choice. I had to go back. Back to the beginning. To offer the invitation. To make it happen again.

With that realization weighing on me like a leaden stone, I turned away from the coffin. I stole one last glance at my younger self, lying there in the coffin. The man I used to be. The man who hadn’t yet been broken by this twisted place. And then, without a word, I began to walk.

The forest seemed to breathe with me. It felt alive, like it was anticipating something, like it knew what was coming. The trees whispered my name, their voices merging into one cacophony, a relentless tide of sound that filled my mind, almost too much to bear. But I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

The clearing was just ahead. The same clearing. The same coffin. Everything was the same. I was closer now, closer to the moment it all began. The stranger was out there, waiting for me to find him.

And when I reached the clearing’s edge, the forest fell silent. The whispers stopped.

I stood there for a long time, looking at the empty space before me. The cycle would continue. It had to.

Because I was the stranger now.

And I would carry the invitation. I would become Elias.

And so, with a final, haunting sigh, I stepped into the clearing.

The darkness closed in around me.

The invitation had been given. The cycle was complete.