Anne poured the last of the merlot into Alex's glass, leaned back in her chair, and eyed the empty plate in front of him. "Are you hungry?" she asked with a knowing smile. In reality, Alex could consume a cow every day and still crave more. She once convinced him to join her in a fast, but within hours, he was crouched in the bathroom nook, tearing into a piece of beef jerky. Alex took the glass, pushed up the sleeves of his cream-colored sweater, ran his hands through his shoulder-length, nut-brown hair, and looked into her eyes before giving a nonchalant shrug of his muscular shoulders.

The pair burst into laughter. Over the span of their nearly eight-year relationship, the last six months had been the most chaotic. Growing up was a challenge in itself, and for Anne, being with someone like Alex brought its own set of difficulties. With the additional strain of Alex's father disappearing without a trace half a year ago, it was a puzzle that left them both baffled. As their laughter subsided, Anne reached across the table and took Alex's hand in hers.

"It's time for our game," she said softly. Alex, staring at the table, let out a quiet sigh. Anne felt the tightness in his grasp and reached over with her free hand, soothingly stroking his.

"Alright," he agreed, understanding what was coming next.

"You go first with your deepest fear, then I'll share mine."

Alex disliked this game because it required him to be vulnerable. It also often revealed his shortcomings in how he treated Anne, things he should have been more attentive to. Nevertheless, he knew Anne intended the game to allow them to express their deepest thoughts without fear of reprisal and to inform each other on where to focus their efforts.

Alex opened his mouth, paused, then spoke. "I'm afraid my father will never come back, that he's gone somewhere, dead, and I'll never understand why." His gaze met hers, and he saw her warm smile. Despite Alex's stoic demeanor over the past six months, she needed to hear this to offer him the comfort he needed, the man she held dear. "Your turn," he said quietly.

Anne nodded thoughtfully. "You're right. And I hope you won't hold it against me." Alex tensed, bracing himself for what she might say. "I'm embarrassed to admit this, especially with what's happening with your father, but I can't shake the feeling that if we don't find answers, if he doesn't return, it could tear us apart." She hesitated, watching the discomfort play across Alex's face. "I want to start planning our wedding, but without knowing what the future holds, I just don't feel secure enough to do that now."

Anne then stood and moved to Alex, placing her arm around him from behind. "I just love you so much, and I'm terrified of what this could do to you." Alex could only nod at first, his thoughts swirling. They sat quietly as the sun set and the stars began to twinkle above.

"Your feelings make sense," Alex finally responded. "You're right that we should be building our future together, and I can only imagine how stalled it must seem to you. I don't blame you at all. I bear no grudge." He turned his chair to face her, pulling her into an embrace. "I want to spend this life and the next with you. I want you to feel secure and at peace with me. Your concerns are completely normal, Anne."

Anne smiled. Throughout all their times playing this game, going back to when they first met and she revealed her biggest fear was flirting with him without realizing she was already attracted to him, Alex had always found the right words to ease her worries. She rested her head on his chest, her favorite place, as he enveloped her in his arms, offering protection.

Suddenly, Anne looked up at Alex and pulled his face to hers, kissing him deeply. She pressed herself against him, her hands slipping under his sweater to touch his skin. The sensation enveloped Alex as he drew her closer, lifting her off the ground as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Alex felt her teeth gently bite his lip as Anne immersed herself in the moment. Before they knew it, they were in bed, their fervor a testament to the intensity of their love.

Clothes discarded. Limbs intertwined. Anne felt a profound sense of security in her love for Alex, yearning to spend the rest of her days with him. Alex savored the way Anne's body fit with his, just as it had the first time, convinced it would last forever. As they reached the heights of pleasure, it seemed as though they were the only souls in existence, time standing still, with nothing capable of separating them.

Unbeknownst to them, however, this would be their last encounter with such closeness, as neither noticed the pair of eyes watching them through the bedroom window.

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Alex found himself encircled by weathered stone walls that disoriented him immediately. He placed his hands on the cold, rough surface, the chill penetrating his warm flesh. He stumbled backward, watching as the chamber transformed into an expansive, opulently decorated hall, its opulence cloaked in white. Overwhelmed, Alex sank to the ground, feeling as though he had been whisked away to another dimension. A sense of unease, hesitant and fluctuating, washed over him. Spectral forms began to coalesce in the room, not passing through any entrance but simply phasing into view.

With effort, Alex pulled himself to his feet and navigated through the low-voiced spirits, overhearing snippets of their whispered dialogues, their gaze vacant and unaware of him.

"The Lord's wrath has been simmering for a while."

"A while? His fury has been burning for years."

"Indeed, you're correct. But we shouldn't—"

"Don't even think it, let alone say it aloud."

"Right, a foolish notion indeed."

Drawn to an impressive staircase, Alex looked up to see a river of red carpet flowing down the steps to a majestic throne. As he climbed, the details sharpened—scarlet banners bearing an enigmatic emblem hung from the walls. At the landing, a disheveled figure knelt in chains, cowering before a man with piercing black eyes and long, golden hair cascading over his shoulders. His thin nose and pale lips twisted into a cruel sneer.

"Did you truly believe you could evade us forever?" the man sneered from his elevated seat, his words laced with venom. The chained man shuddered, his gaunt face ashen. Alex cautiously ascended the remaining stairs.

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"No, never," the man gasped, his strength waning.

"DECEIT!" the ruler bellowed, erupting in a fearsome rage that startled Alex. At the pinnacle of his fury, the king's regal attire, embellished with gold threads, became clear. This despot radiated authority, instilling fear in everyone present.

"No, my Lord," the prisoner begged feebly. As Alex took in the sight of the frail man, he was struck with disbelief—it was his father.

Paralyzed by fear, Alex was unable to act or help his father. As the grim reality of the situation took hold, he recognized the echoes of his childhood dreams—visions that blurred the lines of time. He had shared these dreams with his father, each conversation met with varying reactions. His father was captivated by visions of the past, but he dismissed dreams of possible futures as mere fantasies. Yet, when Alex spoke of the present, his father warned him urgently to shield his mind from such insights. This was no ordinary dream...it was a glimpse into a treacherous reality. Though he was in someone else's body, Alex was convinced it was not a trick of the mind.

"Recount the events of that time," the Lord commanded.

Alex saw a deep sorrow in his father's gaze. "I was set upon—" he started, before a vicious blow struck his face, splattering the walls with blood and spittle.

"Enough lies, or your life ends now!"

His father grimaced in pain. "Please, I speak the truth. I couldn't rescue him...I'm sorry."

The king leaned back, contemplating the man's earnest plea. "So you failed me and then skulked away in disgrace—"

His father interrupted, frantic. "No, never!"

"You FAILED!" the king roared, standing in a renewed fury. "Do not interrupt me! You've been hiding in shame and are worthless to me. Your defiance will be eradicated." He glowered down the stairs. "Guards, put him to death!"

As the order to kill reverberated, Alex's fear was replaced by a surge of anger, bubbling up and spilling over. "NO!" he roared. The moment the shout left his lips, every gaze fixed on him, truly seeing him for the first time.

His father's eyes met his, a flicker of recognition in them. "Go!" he breathed. The king reached for Alex, only to grasp at nothing.

"You..." he said, taken aback. Then he roared, "CATCH HIM! AT ONCE!"

Fear once again enveloped Alex, confused by the unfolding events, his visions never having merged with reality in such a way. His father's sincere gaze begged him. "Leave now, my son." With a burst of energy, he shouted, "RUN!" The power of his voice propelled Alex backward, his back crashing into the hard stone. Then he was tumbling into a boundless darkness, his father's voice resonating in the void.

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Alex jolted awake, his consciousness teetering between the vivid remnants of his dream and the harsh reality of his darkened bedroom. The line between imagination and truth blurred, leaving him no time to discern which side he truly inhabited. His heart thundered in his chest, each beat a deafening roar in his ears. Rivulets of cold sweat carved paths down his face and torso, his breath coming in ragged gasps. An unfamiliar dread gripped him, its icy tendrils threatening to drag him back into the abyss of his nightmare.

Before he could fully gather his wits, nature unleashed its fury. A tempest of biblical proportions descended upon the world outside, its wrath a stark contrast to the serene forecast that had promised days of unbroken sunshine. Alex's gaze fell upon Anne's peaceful form beside him, her back rising and falling in blissful ignorance of both his internal turmoil and the storm's rage. He vowed to preserve her tranquility.

With careful movements, Alex extricated himself from the bed, the cold floor shocking his bare feet as he made his way to the door. In the kitchen, the relentless assault of raindrops against the window drew his attention. The deluge battered the earth with an intensity that seemed almost personal, each drop drilling into the soil with unnatural ferocity. Enveloped by the lingering darkness, Alex closed his eyes, straining his senses for any sign of intrusion.

Silence reigned, broken only by the storm's fury.

As his eyes fluttered open, a bolt of lightning split the sky, bathing the world in stark, white light. In that fleeting moment of illumination, Alex's trained eyes cataloged the shadowy figures converging on the house.

Eight. The number echoed in his mind, a grim confirmation of his fears.

Realization dawned, and Alex moved with purpose towards the entrance. His father's warnings, once dismissed as paranoia, now rang with chilling clarity. Either the old man had lied, or he too had been blind to the danger. Taking a deep breath, Alex flung the door wide and stepped into the maelstrom.

Two assailants immediately flanked him, their kicks aimed at his torso with deadly precision. At the last possible second, Alex raised his arms in defense, then pivoted left, catching both men off guard. In one fluid motion, he swept the legs from under one, the sound of air rushing from the man's lungs oddly satisfying. A swift kick to the chin ensured he wouldn't rise again. Seven left, Alex noted grimly.

Sensing movement behind him and spotting three more attackers advancing, Alex knew he had to maintain momentum. His father's voice echoed in his mind: "Never let them surround you, son. That's how you end up dead." With that mantra driving him, Alex unleashed a back kick that connected solidly with his would-be ambusher's ribs. In the same breath, he seized another charging adversary, using the man's own momentum to flip him onto his back.

A spinning bicycle kick caught the next attacker square in the chest, sending him sprawling onto the unforgiving ground. Ignoring the sharp pain lancing through his back, Alex pressed on, driving his knee into the third man's solar plexus with brutal force. As the second of the initial attackers lunged at him once more, Alex unleashed a flurry of precise elbow strikes to the man's neck, stunning him momentarily before finishing him with a crushing knee to the underside of his jaw. Six left, he calculated, his mind as sharp as his instincts.

Fury and confusion warred within Alex, but he kept them tightly leashed, his thoughts turning to his incarcerated father. The sigil he'd glimpsed in his dream nagged at him, refusing to align with any kingdom he knew. Before he could pursue that line of thought further, he found himself driving his fist into the ribcage of a downed opponent, the sickening crack of bone a stark reminder of the brutality of his situation. Seizing the man's head, Alex brought it down hard onto his rising knee. Five remaining, he noted clinically.

A sudden, sharp pain exploded in his neck as an elbow connected. Alex rolled with the impact, using the momentum to spin and take down his attacker. He rained blows upon the man's face until consciousness fled. Four left, he tallied, his breath coming in controlled pants.

Scanning the area, Alex spotted the final quartet hanging back, their postures tense as they assessed him. He rolled his shoulders, working out the kinks, and approached them warily, every sense on high alert. When one rushed at him brandishing a stick, Alex met him halfway, disarming him with practiced ease. He dodged another wild swing before parrying a third, then used his newly acquired weapon to strike at the closest man's knees, toppling him with ruthless efficiency.

The remaining three fighters, clearly the elite of the group, closed in, forming a tight circle around him. Alex hefted his makeshift weapon, getting a feel for its weight and balance, all the while trying to place the mysterious sigil and the accents that had peppered his attackers' few utterances. Before he could make the connection, the trio launched a coordinated assault.

Alex's world narrowed to a blur of motion and impact. He deflected one attack, ducked under another, and parried the third in rapid succession. His stick found its mark in one man's spine, dropping him to the ground with a pained cry. Another weapon cracked against Alex's back, eliciting a grunt of pain before he retaliated, his own strike catching the man squarely in the chest.

The third warrior managed to disarm Alex but left himself open in the process. Alex capitalized on the mistake, taking the man down and choking him into unconsciousness. Two left, he confirmed mentally. He blocked the next incoming swing, pulled his attacker in close, and delivered a devastating headbutt before using the man's own momentum to knock out his comrade. One left, Alex told himself, his breath ragged but controlled.

With practiced ease, Alex maneuvered behind the final attacker, cutting off his air supply until he, too, collapsed. All threats neutralized, he concluded, allowing himself a moment to catch his breath.

The icy rain continued its relentless assault, pelting Alex as he stood amidst the fallen, his mind awash with questions. Suddenly, more warriors poured into the house. Alex's heart seized as his thoughts immediately flew to Anne. He dashed forward in alarm, but an explosion hurled him backward, engulfing the house in a roaring inferno. He hit the ground hard, the impact driving the air from his lungs, but he fought through the pain, watching in horror as the flames devoured the structure.

"No!" Alex's anguished cry tore through the night, raw and primal. He sprinted towards the conflagration, heedless of the danger. The four newcomers attempted to halt his progress, but a surge of pure, unadulterated fury took hold. Operating on pure instinct, Alex dispatched them with brutal efficiency. "Anne!" he screamed into the night, desperation clawing at his throat. Only the crackling of flames answered his plea.

At the threshold of what had once been his home, another explosion sent Alex flying, his body a rag doll buffeted by the shock wave. He hit the ground hard, every nerve screaming in protest, yet he refused to succumb to the darkness encroaching on his vision.

Rising once more on trembling legs, Alex found himself at the center of a terrifying spectacle. Lightning strikes rained down around him, each bolt missing him by mere inches until he stood surrounded by eight pillars of crackling energy. The earth beneath his feet shuddered and groaned, forcing him to one knee. Then, with a final, ominous rumble, the ground gave way beneath him.

As Alex plummeted into the abyss, the last thing he saw was the world above consumed by fire and storm. Then, mercifully, darkness claimed him.