The scream ripped from Clara's throat and suddenly—silence. Not the silence of the forest, not the silence of her friends shouting her name—no, this silence was absolute, suffocating.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer by the fire.
A corridor stretched before her, infinite and trembling. The walls were not stone, nor wood—they were made of flesh-like crimson light, pulsing as though alive. Veins ran along their length, throbbing in rhythm with her heart. Each pulse sent shivers down her spine.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
The voice came from everywhere. From the walls. From inside her own lungs. And then, as she turned, he stepped out from the pulsing glow.
Yurin Crimson.
But he was not a monster, not a shadowed wraith. He was human-shaped, painfully so. His dark hair hung loose over sharp eyes that glowed faintly red, like embers refusing to die. He smiled—not cruel, not monstrous. Gentle. Almost sad.
"Why are you afraid of me, Clara?" His voice was calm, measured, soothing in a way that made her want to step closer. "You've felt what I offer. Strength. Clarity. No more doubting whether you're a burden. No more waiting for their judgment. Just certainty."
Her breath caught. "You're lying. You're trying to take me."
He chuckled softly, tilting his head. "Am I lying? Look closer."
The corridor around her twisted. Shadows formed along the walls—Evelyn, Damien, Zeke. But they weren't her friends. They were grotesque reflections. Evelyn's fire consumed her own body as she screamed Clara's name. Damien's blade was turned inward, dripping with his own blood. Zeke scribbled endless equations on the walls, carving her name again and again until it vanished under layers of failed solutions.
Clara stumbled back. "Stop it—"
"Why stop? This is truth, Clara." Yurin's eyes never left hers. "You've seen it in their stares. In their silences. They don't trust you. They never will. Not fully. Not when survival is at stake. To them, you're always a risk."
She shook her head, clutching at her chest. "Evelyn—she swore she'd protect me—"
"Ah," Yurin interrupted softly. "She swore she would burn the world to keep you safe. But burning the world… do you think Damien will allow that? Do you think Zeke will stand by when sentiment threatens their ledger of survival?"
Clara faltered. Because she remembered the look in Damien's eyes. The cold calculation in Zeke's.
"You don't have to carry their doubt anymore," Yurin whispered, stepping closer, his presence overwhelming. "I can give you what they never will. Power without condition. Loyalty without suspicion. A bond without cracks."
Her hands trembled. The corridor shook with each of his words, the pulsing veins quickening until the walls felt like a beating heart around them.
Outside, faintly, she heard voices.
"Clara! Stay with me!" Evelyn's voice, raw, desperate.
"She's slipping—Zeke, stabilize the tether!" Damien's bark, urgent.
"I'm trying—it's like he's rewriting the connection itself!" Zeke's sharp reply.
The sound blurred, muffled, like screams underwater. Yurin's hand extended toward her, palm open, eyes gleaming with promise.
"You're already halfway here," he murmured. "Let me finish it. Take my hand, Clara. And you will never be afraid again."
She froze. Her body ached with the temptation. Because wasn't that what she wanted most? To stop being afraid? To stop being doubted? To stop being a burden dragging everyone else down?
Her knees buckled. She almost reached—
And then she heard something else. A sound not from Yurin, not from the grotesque shadows of her friends.
Her own voice. A memory.
"Please… don't give up on me."
It was faint, but it cut through the red hum. A reminder that she had asked them for trust. And Evelyn had given it. Damien, in his silence, had still stayed. Zeke, in his coldness, had not walked away.
Her hand stopped inches from Yurin's.
"No." Her voice was soft, but steady. "I don't want your certainty. I don't want to be free from doubt. Doubt means they care enough to fight for me. Doubt means they're still here."
For the first time, Yurin's expression faltered. His hand remained outstretched, but his eyes darkened, the faint embers flickering.
"Clara—"
"I don't choose you." Her words rang in the crimson corridor like blades striking stone. "Not now. Not ever."
The corridor shuddered violently, the walls cracking as if rejecting her defiance. Yurin's smile returned, but this time it was sharper, colder.
"Then you will learn," he murmured, his voice shifting from silk to steel. "That resisting me only delays the inevitable. You are mine, Clara. And one day… you will beg for the hand you just refused."
The crimson corridor shattered.
Clara's eyes flew open. She was back by the fire, gasping, Evelyn clutching her tightly, Damien poised with his blade, Zeke's glyphs glowing like frantic stars.
The ground beneath them still pulsed with faint crimson light. But for the moment—it was fading.
Yurin had retreated.
But Clara could still feel the ghost of his hand, hovering in the air between them.