Emma’s eyes fluttered open, her vision blurry and her head pounding with a dull, insistent throb. The cold, hard surface beneath her sent chills through her body, the texture of rough stone against her fingertips a stark contrast to the warm familiarity of the royal bookstore.

She sat up slowly, her movements cautious as her surroundings came into focus. The dim, flickering glow of a makeshift magical lamp illuminated the space—a cavernous, ominous expanse of jagged stone walls and an oppressive atmosphere.

This wasn’t the royal bookstore. It wasn’t anywhere she recognized. The air was thick, carrying a faint metallic tang mixed with dampness. Shadows danced along the walls, flickering as if alive, and the faint hum of energy seemed to resonate from the very stones.

Her heart raced as she tried to recall what had happened. The last thing she remembered was rushing to her mother, Vivian, in the royal bookstore. Then, everything had gone blank.

“Awake already?”

The sudden voice startled her. Emma turned sharply toward the sound, her pulse quickening.

Standing just outside the glow of the lamp was a boy. His black hair fell in messy strands over sharp features, but it was his eyes that unnerved her. Deep blue and piercing, they seemed far too wise, far too knowing, for someone his age.

Emma froze, recognizing him instantly. It was the same boy she had seen in the library earlier. But why was he here?

What is he doing here? she muttered under her breath, a sinking feeling twisting in her gut. Did he get dragged into this place too?

Gathering her composure, she spoke up. “May I know who you are?”

The boy tilted his head, his gaze unwavering. “My name isn’t the problem here,” he replied coldly. His tone was detached, almost mechanical, as if her question didn’t matter.

He stepped closer and tossed her a crude, makeshift magical lamp. Emma barely caught it, her fingers fumbling with the sudden weight.

“I’m leaving,” he said simply, turning on his heel.

“Leaving?” she echoed under her breath, her mind reeling. She clutched the lamp tightly and scrambled to her feet. Panic clawed at her chest as she noticed something missing. Mother.

Her eyes darted around the cavernous space as dread sank in. My mom isn’t here, she realized, her thoughts trembling. Did she get dragged in too? If she did… then where ever she is, I need to find her,

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She gritted her teeth and hurried after the boy. She couldn’t afford to lose him—not in a place as unfamiliar and foreboding as this.

The oppressive silence of the dungeon stretched between them as they moved forward. The boy walked with an eerie calm, his steps purposeful, but Emma’s every sense was on edge. The faint glow of their lamps cast just enough light to reveal the dungeon’s rough-hewn walls, which bore faint carvings.

Emma slowed her pace as her eyes were drawn to the intricate details etched into the stone. Something about them pulled at her curiosity, and she stopped to take a closer look.

The carvings depicted a scene of ancient grandeur. Warriors in ornate armor knelt in reverence, their heads bowed before a massive throne. Upon the throne sat a shadowy figure, its form indistinct but commanding. Behind the throne flowed a river, its swirling currents masterfully carved to appear alive.

On either side of the river lay shattered fragments of a colossal ring. The broken pieces seemed poised to unite, yet the river divided them, a barrier as eternal as it was unyielding.

Her gaze lingered on the river. Within its carved depths, words were etched, their meaning obscured by an unfamiliar language. Emma furrowed her brow, leaning closer.

The text shifted before her eyes, the symbols writhing and distorting as if alive. Her breath hitched as the unfamiliar script morphed into something she could read: Elven.

The words now read: “Looping Fate.”

A chill ran down her spine as she whispered the phrase under her breath.

The moment the words left her lips, the atmosphere changed. The air grew heavier, and a low creaking sound echoed through the chamber. Emma’s gaze snapped back to the carvings of the warriors.

They were no longer bowing.

The carved figures now stared directly at her, their eyeless faces brimming with an intensity that made her step back instinctively.

A faint, wet sound broke the silence, and Emma turned to the river in the carving. The water began to move—not within the stone, but out of it. Liquid surged forth, defying gravity as it spilled into the chamber.

Her eyes widened in horror as the water filled the space around her, glowing faintly with an otherworldly light. It rose quickly, engulfing her feet, her waist, her chest. She tried to scream, but the water surged higher, swallowing her whole.

Darkness consumed her.

For a moment, there was nothing. No sound, no sensation, no time.

When Emma opened her eyes again, her head throbbed with pain. She sat up slowly, her heart pounding in her chest.

She was back where she had woken up earlier.

The same cavernous space. The same faint, flickering light.

She looked around frantically, her mind racing. What just happened?

“Awake already?”

The voice sent a shiver down her spine. She turned toward it, her breath catching.

It was the boy. The same boy, in the same position, with the same cold, detached expression.

Her mouth went dry. No… this isn’t right.

“May I know who you are?” she asked just as previously, her voice trembling.

His response was the same as before. “My name isn’t the problem here.”

He tossed her the same magical lamp, and she caught it, her hands shaking.

As he turned to leave once more, Emma felt the weight of dread settle over her.

This wasn’t real. This was something far worse.

They were trapped

“We’re replaying the past,”

A shiver ran down her spine..