Fated: Web of Lies

The following days passed in a blur. Sora went through the motions—sleeping fitfully, eating only when absolutely necessary, and staying away from the village as much as he could. His mind was consumed by the events that had unfolded. He couldn't shake the feeling that he was being pulled deeper into a world he didn't understand, yet somehow seemed destined to be part of.

Sora's encounter with the hooded man had left more than just confusion behind. It had planted a seed of doubt in him, one that gnawed at him incessantly. Was everything he had known—his life, his friends, his family—just an illusion? Were they all mere pieces in a game he had no control over?

Niko had tried reaching out to him multiple times, but Sora couldn't bring himself to face his childhood friend. Every time he saw Niko's worried expression, he felt a deep pang of guilt. He knew Niko was concerned, but the fear and confusion Sora felt were things he couldn't explain. How could he explain it to someone who had no idea what he was facing?

One night, after another long stretch of wandering the empty streets of the village, Sora sat alone beneath the pale glow of a streetlamp. The cool air stung his skin, but he hardly noticed. He wasn't really here, not mentally. His mind was far away, consumed with the questions that kept plaguing him.

A figure appeared in the distance.

Sora's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the silhouette. It was Niko.

Sora stood up quickly, his breath hitching as he prepared himself for another difficult conversation.

"What are you doing here?" Sora asked, his voice raw, betraying the emotions he had tried so hard to keep buried.

"I could ask you the same," Niko replied, his voice steady, but the concern in his eyes was undeniable.

Sora lowered his gaze, not wanting to see the disappointment in Niko's eyes. "I'm just… trying to figure things out. Trying to make sense of all of this."

Niko stepped closer, his expression softening. "I know you're struggling, Sora. But you don't have to do this alone. You can talk to me."

Sora clenched his fists, frustration bubbling up inside him. "I can't talk to you, Niko. Not about this. You don't understand."

Niko looked at him, his eyes filled with confusion. "Then help me understand, Sora. What's happening? You're pulling away from everyone. You're shutting me out. I don't know what to do."

Sora took a step back, the pain in his chest tightening. He wanted to tell Niko everything—the encounter with the hooded man, the symbol, the dark truths that had begun to surface—but he couldn't. Not yet.

"I don't know what's happening either," Sora admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I have to figure it out. And I don't know if I'll ever be the same again after I do."

Niko's face softened, but there was a flicker of fear in his eyes. "You don't have to go through this alone, Sora. Whatever it is, we can face it together."

Sora swallowed hard, the weight of his friend's words pressing down on him. But in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to give in to the comfort Niko offered. He had to keep moving forward, even if it meant facing the darkness on his own.

"I wish I could believe that, Niko," Sora replied, his voice breaking. "But I don't know if I can."

The conversation ended in silence, and as Sora watched Niko walk away, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was losing something precious—something he might never get back. But the path ahead was unclear, and he couldn't afford distractions, no matter how painful they were.

That night, as Sora lay in his bed, unable to sleep, a thought struck him.

The hooded man's words echoed in his mind. "You have been chosen to break the cycle."

Could he be the key to stopping whatever was coming? Could his actions, his choices, determine the fate of everything?

The more he thought about it, the more he realized how little he truly understood. The symbol, the man's cryptic words, the strange visions that had plagued his dreams—all of it seemed connected, and all of it pointed to something much larger than himself.

But what was he supposed to do with that knowledge?

The next day, as Sora tried to piece together his thoughts, he noticed something he hadn't seen before.

It was a small detail—an old, worn-out journal left on the steps of the village temple. It was wrapped in a weathered piece of cloth, the pages yellowed with age. Something about it felt familiar, as though it had been waiting for him all this time.

Sora hesitated for only a moment before reaching down and picking it up.

The journal's pages were filled with strange symbols, much like the one he had discovered earlier. And at the end, there was a name written in bold, uneven letters: Johan.

This was it. The key to understanding everything.