Aric’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon, the last remnants of the warped sky fading into a dull, unsettling calm. He had unraveled part of the truth, but there were still more pieces to grasp—pieces that the voice was still hiding.

His thoughts shifted quickly.

“The prophecy,” Aric said calmly, his voice cutting through the stillness. “What is it?”

There was a pause, brief but telling, before the voice responded, “I cannot answer that.”

Of course, he thought. It was never that easy. Nothing ever was.

“Then tell me this.” Aric’s gaze sharpened as if he were weighing every word. “If I complete this prophecy, will I be able to return to my world?”

The voice hesitated again, and then, answered, “Yes.”

A sliver of satisfaction twisted at the edge of Aric’s lips, but it was fleeting. His tone didn’t waver, his next demand coming as cold as the wind that passed by.

“When I return to being Elijah, I don’t want to remember any of this. I want Aric’s memories erased.”

This time, there was no pause. The voice responded immediately, “Agreed.”

Aric's fingers clenched briefly at his side before he released them, his expression unreadable. He wasn’t sure if it was because the voice had responded too quickly or because part of him wondered what the voice was hiding behind that agreement. But he pushed that thought aside for now. The game was changing, yes, but it was still his to win.

He took a step forward, as if to break the stillness of the moment, his gaze still set far beyond the horizon.

“Send me to real world.”

It wasn’t a request. And yet, as before, the voice didn’t immediately respond. Aric could almost feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

But before the silence stretched too long, the voice complied.

“There’s one last thing I want to know,” Aric said, halting the process with a single thought. His eyes narrowed slightly, not in suspicion but in a quiet demand for the truth. “Everything that happened here—did they all take place in the real world? Or were these just illusions?”

The voice spoke more evenly this time, as if it had expected the question. “Yes, everything that happened also did occur in the real world. But the events were... forced. Distorted. I couldn’t act out all of them as they truly were. The reality you experienced was, in part, fragmented.”

Aric remained still, absorbing the answer without any visible reaction. The lack of surprise in his expression made it clear that he hadn’t been expecting anything less. He had suspected all along that things weren’t as they seemed, but confirmation was simply another piece to the puzzle.

He nodded once, a small, almost imperceptible motion, before he stepped down the corpses, no further questions asked. There was nothing left to say.

With his final words lingering in the air, Aric disappeared, leaving the voice behind in the emptiness.

As Aric’s form vanished, the world seemed to hold its breath—time itself pausing as if confused by the absence of its owner. The once flowing air froze, the very energy that governed the realm ceasing in a strange, unnatural stillness.

Out of nowhere, a blinding light pierced the silence, materializing into a figure cloaked in an ethereal glow. It was the voice. He stood where Aric had been moments before, gazing at the empty space, his tone almost contemplative as he muttered to himself, "He surely is different from the rest of us."

...

Aric blinked against the dazzling blue sky above, feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin. He stood on what seemed like an endless horizon, water pooling beneath his feet in a perfect mirror-like surface, reflecting the heavens above. It was unnervingly serene, a world detached from the chaos he was so used to. The stillness here gnawed at him.

The male standing it wearing normal clothes and hard dark brown hair [https://cdn.leonardo.ai/users/0f2d04b8-7ac9-4ca4-a262-f8f6d5421ce1/generations/9572e531-fedf-453f-8813-f96e7a7c697c/AlbedoBase_XL_The_male_standing_it_wearing_normal_clothes_and_0.jpg]

He glanced down, noticing his hands—Elijah’s hands. The familiarity of his old self washed over him, a stark reminder of the man he used to be, and the one he had to become now. This body was the vessel of who he once was, yet it felt... foreign, as if that identity was fading, but not completely gone.

A figure caught his eye in the distance. A silhouette standing at the edge of this endless mirror. The real Aric.

"Elijah" took a breath, composing himself before his feet began to move on instinct. There was no rush, no sense of urgency in his pace. His steps created subtle splashes against the reflective water, sending gentle ripples outward, but the world remained eerily silent. Too silent.

So this is him, he thought as he approached the real Aric, who hadn't acknowledged him yet, still gazing out at the horizon. The figure before him was taller than he had expected, more imposing. Even though Aric stood with his back turned, there was an air of detachment, a coldness that Elijah recognized—because it mirrored his own.

Finally, when he was close enough, Elijah stopped. He didn’t speak right away. He simply looked at the back of the man who once owned the life he now held.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

What do you even say to the man whose life you stole?

The thought flickered through his mind, but there was no guilt. There couldn’t be. What was done was done. Yet the situation demanded some kind of confrontation, didn’t it?

"You're not going to turn around?" Elijah asked, his voice calm, much like the man he was becoming.

The real Aric remained still for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice low, almost distant. "I already know who you are, Elijah." There was no malice in his tone, no accusation. Just... acceptance. "I don’t need to turn around."

Elijah narrowed his eyes. This wasn’t how he expected the conversation to begin. He had anticipated anger, maybe even confusion, but this—this indifference—it unnerved him in a way he couldn’t fully explain.

"I took your body," Elijah said, his voice firm, almost testing the waters. "Your life. And you're not even going to look at me?"

The real Aric sighed, his shoulders rising and falling with an almost imperceptible exhaustion. "What would be the point? I am no longer in control of that life." He finally turned, and Elijah was greeted with a pair of blue eyes that, though familiar, were somehow distant—detached, as if Aric had long since come to terms with what had happened. "You are. So why pretend otherwise?"

For a moment, Elijah didn't respond. There was something unsettling about the ease with which Aric had accepted all of this. It didn't feel right. Didn’t feel... human.

"That’s it? You’re just going to hand it over?" Elijah’s words were sharp now, cutting through the tranquility of the place. He stepped closer, his presence more confrontational. "No fight? No bitterness?"

Aric's lips curled into a faint smile, though there was no warmth in it. "Is that what you want? A fight?" He looked Elijah directly in the eyes, and for a brief moment, there was something there—something that reminded Elijah of himself. "I’ve lived my life, Elijah. My path was always going to end like this."

"That’s not an answer." Elijah’s voice dropped, and something cold flickered in his gaze. He didn’t like the way Aric was handling this. Too calm. Too composed. It made Elijah feel... exposed. Like there was something he was missing.

The real Aric tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. "And what answer are you looking for? Some tragic tale of regret? An outburst of emotion?" He shook his head. "That’s not who I am anymore. You... changed that."

Elijah's jaw tightened. He hated how casual this conversation felt. As if this wasn’t the defining moment it should have been. "You don’t seem to understand the situation," Elijah said, his voice cold, each word calculated. "I took everything from you."

"And what does that change?" Aric’s eyes softened, as if he pitied Elijah. "What’s done is done. You’ve already accepted your role in this, haven’t you?"

Elijah clenched his fists, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. Aric’s lack of resistance only mirrored his own growing detachment. "You’re not making sense," he muttered under his breath. But even as he said the words, he knew that they weren’t meant for Aric. He was talking to himself.

What did he want from this? Vindication? Guilt? Some confirmation that he wasn’t the only one who’d changed?

Aric turned back toward the horizon, his expression distant again. "The moment you entered my body, I ceased to be the man I once was. Whatever you're searching for, Elijah, it’s not here." His voice trailed off, leaving the air between them heavy with unspoken words.

Elijah stared at him for a long time, feeling the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He wasn’t used to this—a situation he couldn’t control. And yet, despite everything, he found himself understanding Aric. Not in the way he expected to, but in a way that made the situation even more disturbing.

Because in the end, they were both trapped. Both searching for something that didn’t exist anymore.

Aric was the first to break the silence again, his voice quiet, almost reflective. "We’re both just fragments of something bigger now, Elijah. You might not see it yet... but you will."

Elijah’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as he processed those words. He didn’t respond right away, but the tension in his posture slowly eased. Aric was right, in a way he couldn’t fully explain yet.

The silence between them lingered, punctuated only by the subtle splash of water as Elijah shifted his stance. Aric’s eyes remained fixed on the horizon, but his presence, cold and impenetrable, was all too palpable.

"You’re surprisingly calm," Elijah finally said, breaking the silence with a tone that was half-question, half-observation. "Considering everything we've been through."

Aric’s lips curved slightly, though his eyes remained distant. "Calm isn’t the word. I’ve just learned not to waste energy on things I can’t control."

Elijah scoffed, crossing his arms. "So, you’re saying none of this bothers you? The contract, the prophecy, whatever twisted game we’re part of?"

Aric glanced at him, his expression unreadable. "Bothered? Sure. But being bothered doesn’t change anything, does it? What matters is surviving it."

Elijah tilted his head, scrutinizing Aric’s face as if searching for a crack in the cold, calculating exterior. "You talk like you’ve already accepted the worst. Like you’re ready for whatever comes next."

Aric’s gaze flicked back to the mirrored horizon. "What’s the point of not being ready?"

Elijah frowned, feeling a surge of frustration. "You think this is all some game of endurance? Just surviving until the next disaster? What about fighting back?"

"Fighting what exactly?" Aric asked, turning fully to face him now. "The gods? The wyrd? The whole damn world? You really think any of that changes by throwing yourself at it without a plan?"

"Maybe not," Elijah shot back, "but at least I wouldn’t stand here acting like I’ve already lost."

Aric’s eyes narrowed, but his voice remained steady. "That’s where you’re wrong. I haven’t lost. Not yet."

Elijah took a step closer, his voice low, almost challenging. "Then what are you waiting for?"

Aric’s response was quick, a flash of ice behind his words. "The right moment."

The subtle splash of water between them seemed louder now as the tension thickened, the weight of their words hanging in the air. Elijah’s frustration was clear, but beneath it, there was something else—curiosity, maybe even a grudging respect.

"You always think that far ahead?" Elijah asked, his tone softening.

Aric’s gaze didn’t waver. "It’s the only way to stay ahead of whatever’s coming next."

For a moment, Elijah was silent, taking in Aric’s demeanor, his unwavering calm. It wasn’t resignation, as he had first thought—it was something sharper, something more dangerous.

Aric turned abruptly, his eyes narrowing as he began to close the distance between them. Without warning, he walked over to Elijah and gave him a firm push to the chest.

"Good luck," Aric said, his voice steady but carrying an edge that made the words linger.

Elijah staggered backward, his balance lost. He barely had time to process what had just happened before his foot hit the reflective water beneath them, and the moment his body made contact, everything shifted.

The surface of the water rippled, and instead of staying afloat, Elijah felt himself falling deeper into it, as though the water had turned into a dark, endless abyss. Panic flared for a split second, but it was too late. His body sank rapidly, swallowed by the depths as his surroundings blurred and then... he disappeared.

The serene, mirrored world remained unchanged, silent once more, as if Elijah had never been there at all. Aric stood still, his expression unreadable, watching the spot where Elijah had vanished. There was no regret in his eyes, just the quiet acceptance of inevitability.

Alone again, he glanced at the sky, the faintest ripple disturbing the silence around him.

...