The darkness clung to Erik like oil, suffocating and cold. He couldn't see, couldn’t feel the ground beneath his mimic form, yet he was moving forward or being pulled forward. The whispers from before were gone, replaced by an eerie silence broken only by the occasional sound of something distant, like stone grinding on stone.

He tried to call out to the others, but his voice was swallowed whole by the void.

“I’m alone.”

For a brief, panicked moment, the hunger surged. It roared to life, primal and unrelenting, filling every corner of his mind. He fought to suppress it, focusing on his breath if that’s what the mimic equivalent was. Slowly, the hunger dimmed, like a fire deprived of oxygen.

Then the silence was shattered by a voice. Deep, resonant, and impossibly familiar.

“Erik.”

It wasn’t a whisper. It wasn’t fragmented. This voice spoke with absolute clarity, cutting through the oppressive dark.

“Who’s there?” Erik rasped, his form shifting instinctively into something more humanoid a habit from the days when appearances mattered. But it was pointless here.

“You’ve forgotten me already?” the voice asked, calm yet accusatory. “No, that’s not it. You’ve buried me.”

The air or whatever it was shifted, and suddenly Erik could see. The void gave way to a new space, one that was wrong in every possible way. The ground beneath him wasn’t stone but a mosaic of writhing, organic shapes eyes, mouths, hands. Above him, the sky was a swirling vortex of green and black, streaked with veins of light. The space stretched into infinity yet felt claustrophobic, like it was collapsing inward.

And standing before him was... himself.

The figure was an uncanny replica of the man Erik once was broad-shouldered, a scruffy beard, piercing blue eyes that now glowed faintly green. Except it wasn’t quite right. The skin shimmered unnaturally, and where the hands should have been, they morphed constantly blades, claws, tendrils, back to hands again.

Erik stumbled back, his mimic body reacting instinctively. “What... what are you?”

“I’m you,” the figure said, a smile curling its lips. “Or rather, I’m what you left behind.”

“No,” Erik said, shaking his head. “You’re another trick. Just the dungeon messing with me.”

The doppelgänger laughed a sound that reverberated in Erik’s chest, too close, too familiar. “If I’m a trick, then why do I know what you feel right now? The hunger, always gnawing, always there. The doubt, the guilt.” It stepped closer, its shifting hands steadying into fists. “You’re afraid of what you’ve become. Afraid of what you’ll do to them.”

Erik tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

“You think you can hold it together,” the figure continued. “You think you can resist. But you’re lying to yourself. The hunger will win it always does.”

“No!” Erik shouted, his voice echoing unnaturally in the void. His mimic form flared, his edges sharpening defensively. “I’m still me. I won’t let it control me.”

The doppelgänger tilted its head, almost pitying. “You don’t get it, do you? You’re not fighting the hunger.” Its glowing eyes bored into Erik’s. “You’re feeding it.”

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Before Erik could respond, the ground beneath him shifted, a ripple spreading out like a shockwave. The space around him began to collapse, the writhing mosaic twisting into spirals that pulled at him, dragging him toward the center.

And at the center was a door.

Not the one he had passed through earlier, but a new one smaller, blacker than the void itself. Its edges shimmered like the surface of water, and it pulsed faintly, as if it were alive.

The doppelgänger stepped to the side, gesturing toward it. “Go ahead. Open it. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”

Erik hesitated. “What’s behind it?”

“You already know the answer.” The doppelgänger smiled again, wider this time. “The truth. The fracture. The thing you’ve been running from.”

The hunger clawed at him, urging him toward the door. He took a shaky step forward, then stopped, turning back to the figure. “If I open it... what happens to them? To my friends?”

“Friends?” The doppelgänger’s smile faltered, and for the first time, its expression hardened. “They’re not your friends. They’re survivors. Allies of convenience. You’re useful to them now, but the moment you slip the moment the hunger takes control they’ll cut you down without hesitation.”

“That’s not true,” Erik said, but the words felt hollow. Kaelith’s distrust, Davin’s fear, even Edrin’s cautious support... all of it echoed in his mind, feeding his doubts.

The figure shrugged. “Believe what you want. But if you don’t open that door, this place will tear you apart piece by piece. So go on.” It stepped back, its form dissolving into the void. “Be the hero they want you to be.”

The void grew still, silent again.

Erik turned back to the door. The hunger was unbearable now, roaring in his mind like a wild beast. He reached out, his mimic tendrils trembling as they touched the surface.

It was cold. Then warm. Then searing hot.

The door began to crack, thin lines of light spilling out. The ground trembled, and the whispers returned, louder and more urgent than before.

“...the fracture... the truth... the hunger...”

With a final push, Erik opened the door.

The world exploded into light, and Erik stumbled forward into a new chamber. It was blinding at first, the glyphs on the walls pulsating with an intensity he hadn’t seen before. But as his vision adjusted, he realized the others were there Edrin, Kaelith, and Davin, staring at him in shock.

“What happened to you?” Kaelith demanded, her daggers drawn.

Erik glanced down at himself and froze. His mimic body had changed. Where before it had been a shifting, amorphous form, now it was solid, darker, and etched with glowing symbols symbols that matched the ones on the chamber walls.

“I... I don’t know,” Erik said, his voice quieter, more human.

Edrin stepped forward cautiously. “The door... did you open it?”

Erik nodded. “It showed me something. Something I don’t understand yet.”

Kaelith scowled, but Davin spoke up, his voice trembling. “And what was behind it?”

Erik looked at them, his mimic form rippling faintly as the hunger stirred again. “A warning.”

And behind him, deep in the shadows of the chamber, the whispers began to laugh.