Fated: Web of Lies

The world seemed to shift beneath Sora's feet.

Every day felt heavier. The ominous symbols kept appearing—on his doorstep, on the walls, in the dust beneath his feet—and with each new mark, Sora felt his world inch closer to unraveling. The strange encounter with the hooded man lingered in his mind, a constant reminder of the deepening shadows around him. The man's words echoed in his thoughts: "Not from you, Sora. For you."

The choice had already been made, but Sora didn't know how far this path would take him—or what it would cost.

It was late afternoon when Niko found him again, sitting by the river that ran through the outskirts of their village. The usual hum of life—children playing, goats bleating, the laughter of vendors—was absent. It was as if the world had gone silent, holding its breath.

Niko sat beside Sora, his eyes flickering nervously to the river, then back to his friend. "Something's wrong, Sora. You're not the same. You're not the Sora I know."

Sora remained silent, staring at the still water. It was hard to admit it, but Niko was right. He was different—he could feel it. There was a pull inside him, a desire for something he couldn't understand.

The feeling was there when he looked at Johan's face, when the boy's smile seemed too calculating, too cold. The feeling grew when he found himself dreaming of the abyss, the twisted red sky, and the strange, cruel voice of the hooded man.

And every time Sora looked at Niko or his family, he saw them shrink—distant figures in his life that no longer felt like home.

"I know," Sora muttered. His voice was hoarse, as though something within him was breaking. "I feel it too."

Niko's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"There's something—someone—changing everything around me," Sora whispered. "And I can't stop it." His hands trembled as he spoke, the words coming faster, as though he feared they would vanish before he finished. "There are things happening, Niko, things that I can't explain. It's not just a nightmare. It's real."

That night, Sora dreamed again.

But this time, the red sky was gone. In its place was a vast blackness, an empty void stretching endlessly. There was no sound, no wind. Just the infinite black, and Johan—standing in the middle of it, waiting.

"I see you've come," Johan said, his voice a whisper that reverberated in Sora's mind. "Do you understand now?"

Sora tried to speak, but no words came. His throat felt tight, constricted by fear. His eyes darted around the empty void, looking for any sign of escape, but there was nothing.

"Everything you've known, Sora, it's an illusion," Johan continued, stepping closer. His face was calm, but his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—betrayed something darker beneath. "You've been chosen to break the world, to reshape it. This is your destiny."

"No," Sora choked out. "I didn't choose this."

"Yes, you did. The moment you saved me, you chose it. And now, you must fulfill your role."

Suddenly, the darkness around Sora seemed to twist and shift. The very ground beneath his feet cracked, splitting open to reveal an abyss below. The darkness in the void pulsed like a heartbeat, sending tremors through the air.

Sora took a step back, but there was nowhere to retreat. "What do you want from me?" he gasped.

Johan's lips curled into a faint smile. "I want nothing, Sora. It is you who wants something. You want to know the truth. The truth of the world, of fate. And I'm the key to that truth."

The ground beneath Sora's feet crumbled, and he fell, falling into the black void with no end in sight.

Sora woke with a jolt, gasping for breath. The dream had felt too real—too visceral. He sat up, sweat dripping down his face, his heart pounding in his chest.

It was still night, and his room felt colder than it had before. The moonlight filtered weakly through the cracks in the wall, casting long shadows on the floor. He felt a presence near the window—a figure cloaked in darkness.

Sora didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

The hooded man was there, watching.

"Why do you keep tormenting me?" Sora demanded, his voice shaking. "Why?"

The man didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stepped forward, his movements silent but deliberate. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, twisted object—a piece of broken metal. It glinted faintly in the dim light, and as he placed it on the floor, Sora could see that it had been burned into the shape of the symbol he had seen everywhere.

"This," the man said in his calm, detached voice, "is the key. The answer you seek lies in understanding it. In understanding who you are."

Sora stared at the metal object, his hands clenched at his sides. "What am I supposed to do with it?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

The man didn't reply. Instead, he faded back into the shadows, leaving Sora alone with the ominous mark.

As dawn broke, Sora sat on the floor, his fingers brushing against the cold, twisted piece of metal. What had he gotten himself into? What was Johan's true purpose? And how was he connected to all of this?

The answer seemed just out of reach, but Sora knew one thing for certain: there was no turning back now.