The darkness peeled away like burnt paper. One second I was standing alone with only that hovering light—and the next, I was walking down a hallway lit by pale lanterns, their flames swaying as if breathing in sync with me. The air was thick with something old. Not dust—memories.
Every footstep echoed louder than it should have. As if the hall wanted me to hear myself, and only myself.
This wasn't a glitch anymore. This was something designed.
The walls were lined with framed photographs—black and white, aged, cracked. Faces stared at me from behind the glass. Most I didn't recognize. But then—
Gavin.
Eyes full of life. That same half-smirk he gave every time we solved a case, or snuck in lunch from that crappy taco joint by 7th. And just beside him in another frame—Detective Marie Lorenz. Shot in the line of duty. Another face I couldn't save.
The hallway kept going. And with every step, a new face appeared.
Victims. Suspects. Colleagues. People I had let down. People I had failed.
And then…
My mother.
I stopped.
The photo was colorless, but I remembered the warmth of her laugh. Her hands smelled like lavender and cigarettes. Her voice was soft but firm, the way good mothers speak to broken children.
I reached out, fingertips brushing the glass.
A whisper.
"Echo."
My hand froze.
"Echo, can you still hear me?"
It wasn't coming from the photo. It was coming from my head.
No. Not my head. My earpiece.
Someone was on the other end.
I slapped my palm to the device hooked behind my ear—something I hadn't even realized was still functional. Static, then a flicker of sound.
"Echo, respond. This is Nora Vega. If you're alive… god, please be alive."
Nora. The rookie from the precinct. The one I told to stay out of it. Her voice shook, like she was broadcasting through a storm.
"This island—this game—it's spreading. You're not the only one in it anymore. They're pulling more people in. Something's wrong with the system. You have to find the core."
The transmission cracked again.
"Find the control chamber. Under the central tower. You're closer than you think."
Silence.
I stood frozen in the hallway, her words ringing in my ears.
This wasn't just about survival anymore. It was about containment. About stopping whatever this was from infecting the rest of the world.
Suddenly the hallway around me shifted, the walls distorting. The photos bled together, frames liquefying into black ooze. The lanterns flickered violently.
And then, from the end of the corridor, a shape emerged.
It looked like a man. Until you saw his eyes—hollow and glowing white. His mouth was stitched shut. His skin was too tight, like his bones wanted out.
The voice returned in my head—not through the earpiece this time. This one was native to the trial.
"Welcome to the Guardian of the Archive. To pass, you must unburden the dead."
The creature lunged.
I dodged, barely, sliding beneath its arms and whipping out the makeshift blade I'd crafted days ago. But the thing didn't bleed. Every strike passed through it like smoke—but not harmless smoke. Cold, biting, soul-sapping smoke.
I reached into my pack, hand closing on the artifact I'd picked up in the bunker two chapters ago—a broken compass with a crystal shard embedded in its center.
I jammed it into the air between us.
Light exploded. The ghost screamed.
The photographs burned like fireflies in reverse—each face erupting into light and vanishing, one by one, as if finally being freed.
The creature crumbled. Collapsed like ash.
I dropped to my knees, chest heaving.
The door at the end of the hall creaked open.
A spiral staircase led downward.
Control chamber.
I stood.
"Thanks, Nora," I muttered. "Looks like the story's far from over."
And I descended, one step at a time, toward whatever the heart of this nightmare truly was.
LEVEL 8 UNLOCKED
Skill: Spectral Sense — Detect hidden entities and spiritual anomalies.
Endurance: +10%
Resistance to Fear: +20%
The island wanted to haunt me with the past.
Too bad for it—I was already haunted.