The sun still blazed mercilessly overhead, turning the cracked, sun-scorched land into a furnace. Despite the faint shade the overhang of rock provided, the heat still seeped into Hope's bones. He sat with his back against the cave wall, sweat beading on his brow, though not entirely from the weather.
Hope sighed—a long, wearied exhale that seemed to carry the weight of his entire existence with it. The things he had just shared with Nefer... they weren't stories. They were scars. Fragments of a life shaped not by guidance, but by survival. And now, sitting in the stillness that followed, he wondered if he'd said too much.
Nefer had listened, not with pity, but with that same thoughtful, unreadable calm she always carried. That somehow made it worse. It made his pain feel acknowledged… but not special.
He turned his gaze to Massa, the silent girl who sat at the edge of the cave, her legs crossed, eyes closed in meditation or concentration. She hadn't spoken much since they met. She moved like a shadow—quiet, deliberate, emotionally distant. Despite traveling together, she still felt like a stranger. And yet, Hope couldn't shake the feeling that she saw everything and simply chose not to speak.
Nefer, on the other hand, had opened up. A little. Her presence felt... warm. Human. Hope found it easier to let things slip around her—more than he meant to. More than he should have.
He closed his eyes, wincing slightly as a dull ache shot through his arms and shoulders. His body protested every movement, sore from the days of training, combat, and travel. Every joint and tendon throbbed with fatigue. He wasn't sure how long they'd been moving like this, but sleep crept up on him like a phantom, dragging him into its depths before he could fight it.
And then everything went silent.
Utterly, unnaturally silent.
The sounds of the real world—the whistle of the wind, the scurrying of sand beneath the breeze, the occasional murmur of the others—vanished completely. Even the weight of his body seemed to dissolve.
When Hope opened his eyes, he found himself somewhere both unfamiliar and deeply familiar.
A cavernous space stretched out before him—endless darkness, lit only by a ghostly gray light that seemed to have no source. The air here was cold, thick, and filled with something unnatural. Unease bled into his gut.
Before him stood a long, winding staircase made of obsidian stone. It stretched upward in a perfect spiral, eventually leading to a massive black throne carved out of shadow and bone.
And there, sitting lazily on the throne, was himself.
But not exactly.
This version of him was sharper, darker, more defined in every way. His skin was pale, sickly almost, and his eyes shimmered with a faint violet glow. His posture was regal, but predatory—like a beast disguised in royal attire. His expression was calm, but every inch of him oozed danger.
Hope stood at the base of the stairs, frozen.
The figure on the throne smirked. His voice rang out through the space like a whisper against the back of the neck—low, cold, and unmistakably his own:
"I thought you wouldn't come back. You've been avoiding sleep lately. And you thought that would help you?"
Hope's fists clenched involuntarily. He fought the urge to flinch, to show weakness. He forced a bitter smile.
"I know there's no way I can get rid of you. But I don't want to see you more than I have to. Maybe you're just a figment of my imagination anyway."
The other Hope laughed softly. "A figment, huh? Kid, I'm you. And you're me." His grin widened. "You may have survived the first trial, but you still don't understand what that did to you. I'm the part of you that was born in the Veil. The flaw. The echo. The thing that crawled out of death's mouth with you."
Hope narrowed his eyes. "I don't care. I don't want to hear anything from you."
The throne sat empty in the next instant.
Hope barely registered movement before the other him was right there—mere inches from his face. His presence was suffocating, like a gravitational pull that made the air too heavy to breathe.
Hope flinched, despite himself.
The being looked into his eyes and sighed, almost... disappointed.
"Go back, kid. Your attention is needed."
Before Hope could speak, the floor beneath him gave way. He fell, spiraling downward through a cold, endless void—no walls, no ground, just the sensation of falling through a sky of ink.
Then—
"Hopeless! Hopeless!"
Hope gasped, eyes flying open, chest rising with a sudden breath like he had been drowning.
Nefer was crouched beside him, a worried crease on her brow, shaking him lightly. Her voice rang in his ears like an echo from another world.
"You alright? What's wrong?"
Hope blinked rapidly, the harsh sunlight stabbing into his retinas. The heat was back. The cave. The scent of sand and dust. Reality.
He stared at her for a moment, caught between two worlds. Then, with a weak voice:
"Just a dream... I think."