The cold struck him as soon as he stepped through the door. The smooth, chilling surface beneath his feet was a sharp contrast to the warmth that had just filled his body moments before. He winced at the sensation but kept moving forward, each step making the cold more real, more oppressive.

As his eyes adjusted to the faint light beyond the doorway, he took in his surroundings. Crumbled stone pathways stretched out in front of him, weaving through the skeleton of what must have once been a city. Broken archways loomed overhead like the remains of a forgotten civilization, their edges jagged and crumbling. The air was heavy, thick with a strange, almost tangible fog that clung to the ground, swirling slowly around his feet.

He walked cautiously, the sound of his footsteps dull and muted against the broken stone. As he ventured deeper, he turned back, curiosity gnawing at him. The door he had just stepped through stood pristine against the backdrop of ruin—a perfect rectangle of white, unmarred by time or decay. It was embedded in a partially destroyed wall, mismatched against the crumbling bricks and cracked stone.

What is this place? Why does the door look so untouched?

The questions simmered in the back of his mind, but there were no answers here. He turned back toward the ruins, pushing forward into the unknown.

The further he walked, the darker the fog became. It crept up, swirling in thick tendrils, rising from his ankles to his calves. The silence of the place was almost suffocating—so heavy, it felt like the world itself was holding its breath.

Then, without warning, the silence shattered.

A laugh—sharp, shrill, and utterly inhuman—pierced through the stillness. It tore into his mind, sending a violent tremor down his spine. The sound was unlike anything he’d ever heard, a screeching cacophony that echoed in his head and rattled his bones.

His body froze, paralyzed by fear. His vision blurred, and all he could feel was the overwhelming dread that came with that laughter. His legs buckled beneath him, and before he could think, he was on the ground, curled in on himself, trembling uncontrollably.

The laughter clawed at his mind, sharp and unnatural, a sound that didn’t belong in this world. His body tensed, every muscle locking up as his gaze snapped upward, searching for the source.

There—just beyond the swirling fog, a shadow moved. His breath caught in his throat as something loomed above him. He couldn’t make out its form, only that it was massive, grotesque, and... watching him.

The world seemed to tilt, reality stretching thin as the thing in the fog grew closer. He wanted to scream, to run—but his body wouldn’t respond. His heart pounded wildly in his chest, and just as he was about to make out its true shape, the world around him vanished into nothingness.

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He gasped, blinking rapidly as he came back to his senses. His body ached, cold and trembling, curled up on the ground. He had no idea how long he had been there. The fog, once barely skimming his feet, now engulfed his legs up to his knees, swirling ominously around him.

His mind reeled. What had just happened? He strained to remember, but there was only a blank space where the memory should be, as if it had been ripped out of his mind entirely. The laughter, the thing in the fog... and then nothing.

Was it real?

He staggered to his feet, his legs stiff and numb. The ruins stretched out in every direction, unchanged, but something felt different. He glanced over his shoulder toward the pristine doorway, now barely visible in the distance, and shivered. He wasn’t sure if he was trembling from the cold or the fear gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

Whatever had happened, he knew one thing for sure: something in this place was watching him.

He pressed onward, each step heavier than the last. The endless ruins stretched out before him, a maze of broken stone and decay. The darkness crept ever closer, swirling at his waist now, threatening to swallow him whole. Every time he ran, the fog seemed to follow, rising just a little higher, reaching for him.

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He had lost track of time. Days, hours, maybe weeks—he had no way of knowing. The only constants were the ruins, the cold, and that ever-present feeling of dread. Whenever he thought he might catch a glimpse of the horizon, he’d climb higher—only to be greeted by more desolation. The ruins stretched endlessly in every direction, and the oppressive dark fog moved like a silent predator, always advancing, always there.

When his legs failed him, he crawled. When his breath came in ragged gasps, he rested for just long enough to stop the world from spinning. But no matter how hard he pushed himself, the fog crept closer, until the icy tendrils were lapping at his sides.

And then he saw it—a stone slab, jutting up out of the ground like the last bastion against the encroaching fog. He scrambled toward it, pulling himself up, climbing out of the cold grip of the darkness. His body ached, his limbs felt heavy as lead, but for now, he was safe. Or, at least, out of the fog’s reach.

For now.

He slumped down, panting. His fingers gripped the cold stone beneath him, his mind spinning from exhaustion and the never-ending feeling of isolation. The silence was deafening.

"Let’s be happy together."

The words floated back to him, as if they had never really left. He blinked, staring up at the dim, fog-filled sky. Happy? How? What kind of twisted joke was this?

Where’s the joy in this darkness?

He tried to make sense of it all, but the more he thought, the more lost he felt. His memories were gone, stolen away by the same emptiness that surrounded him. He didn’t know his name, his purpose, or why he was here. The voice’s promise of happiness felt like a cruel trick, a hollow offering amidst all the desolation.

How can I be happy when I don’t even know who I am?

He leaned back, exhaustion pulling at him. The fog swirled below, just out of reach, waiting. The weight of the unknown pressed down on him, heavier than the fog itself. There was no one here. No one to save him. No one to tell him why he was here.

His eyes traced the jagged skyline of the ruins, looking for answers that weren’t there.

"Let’s be happy..."

The words echoed again in his mind, and he scoffed, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. There was no joy here, no warmth. Just cold stone and creeping darkness. What kind of happiness could be found in this place?

As he rested on the slab, he knew the safety wouldn’t last forever. The fog was rising, and soon, it would swallow even this small refuge. He closed his eyes for a moment, hoping for a memory, a dream, anything that might give him a clue.

But there was nothing. Only the silence. Only the darkness.

The laughter pierced through the silence once more, jagged and haunting. It jolted him from the edge of sleep—or so he thought. His heart raced as he blinked furiously, but there was no difference between eyes open and eyes closed. Just black. Total, suffocating black.

Panic welled up inside him.

Am I awake?

He turned his head, or at least he thought he did, but there was no change in the darkness around him. He reached out, hoping to see his hand, to feel the sensation of movement. Nothing. Was he even moving?

Did I fall asleep? Where am I?

The questions came quickly, but there were no answers, only a rising dread that pressed in from all sides. Was he blind, or was there simply nothing to see? His breathing quickened, his chest tight with fear.

For a fleeting moment, he doubted that he even had eyes at all. Could someone without eyes see this much darkness? Could someone without a body feel this much terror?

But then, under his fingertips, the cold, rough surface of the stone slab came into focus. Yes, that was real. That was something he could be sure of. He was still there, lying on the slab, surrounded by nothing. But what was the slab resting on? Was there ground beneath it, or was it floating in the abyss? His mind spun with questions, with doubt.

The only constants were the cold of the stone beneath him and the cold fear gripping his heart.

Am I even still alive?

The laughter echoed again, faint and distant, yet it cut through his mind like a knife. The sound crawled under his skin, leaving him trembling with fear. He could feel his pulse hammering against his chest, and the stone beneath him grounding him, but that was all.

There was no light. No sky. No ruins. Nothing but the darkness and the terrible, bone-chilling laughter.

Time… what time is it? How long have I been here?

The days—or maybe hours, or maybe moments—blurred together. The fog had been rising, but now, there was only darkness. He couldn’t even tell if he was still above it, or if the fog had consumed him entirely.

But the terror, that was undeniable. The fear was as real as the stone beneath his hands. It was the only thing left he could trust, the only thing he could hold on to.

"Let’s be happy together," the voice whispered again, soft and sweet, but it twisted something deep inside him, making his stomach churn.

How? In this darkness? How can anyone be happy here?

He squeezed his eyes shut—not that it made any difference—and curled in on himself, clinging to the stone slab as if it were the only anchor left in the world. Maybe it was.

The darkness pressed in closer, and the laughter rang in his ears once more, distant but persistent. He felt smaller, more fragile, like the void was swallowing him whole.

Was this all there would ever be? Fear, confusion, and the void? Was this his reality now?