Her body was breaking.
Every breath scraped her lungs like fire. Every movement sent knives of pain through her limbs. Her lips were cracked so deeply they bled when she tried to lick them. Hunger had stopped being a dull ache and had become something monstrous gnawing her hollow insides.
The chamber mocked her still. The doors shimmered and pulsed, thousands of them, endless. Each one a promise. Each one a lie.
She had tried everything—food, treasure, beauty, perfumes, music. None had stayed. None had filled her emptiness.
The whispers swirled around her now, clear as voices whispering right beside her ear:
"You are wasting away.""Your time is short.""Not every door lies…"
She pressed her palms against the floor, dragging her body forward. Crawling was all she could manage now. The stone beneath her was cold, soaking into her bones. Her vision blurred, but she forced her eyes to stay open.
And then she saw it.
One door unlike the others.
It didn't shimmer, didn't pulse, didn't glow with tempting light. It stood still, dark and heavy, its surface a deep, oppressive black that seemed to swallow all color around it. The air near it felt colder.
Her heart stuttered in her chest.
"This… this one is different," she whispered, her voice rasping.
With shaking arms, she crawled to it. Every inch felt like climbing a mountain. Her body screamed for her to stop, to give up, to collapse on the floor and let sleep claim her. But something in that door pulled her forward, as though gravity itself demanded she reach it.
When her hand touched it, the surface was icy, numbing her fingers instantly. Unlike the other doors, it didn't vanish the rest. The chamber didn't collapse. For the first time, she felt as though the choice was hers—not forced, not manipulated.
She pushed.
The door opened with a slow groan, the sound echoing deep into her bones.
Inside, there was no banquet, no treasure, no beauty.
Only a coffin.
It rested in the center of the room, carved from dark wood, polished until it gleamed. Its lid was slightly ajar, as though it had been waiting.
Her breath caught in her throat. A sob of terror tore from her chest. "No… no, not that. Anything but that."
Her body wanted to run, but her legs would not move. She staggered backward, shaking her head violently, eyes wide with horror.
The whispers returned, louder than ever.
"This is the truth.""This is your destiny.""Enter, and you will be free."
She pressed her hands to her ears, screaming, "No! I don't want this!"
But her body betrayed her. Her strength was gone. Her knees buckled, sending her sprawling on the floor. She crawled, desperate to escape—but every motion brought her closer to the coffin. The room itself seemed to tilt, pulling her toward it.
Her fingertips brushed against its polished wood. The surface was warm now, almost inviting.
"No… please…" Tears streamed down her face. "I just wanted… food… water… life…"
Her arms trembled violently, but she couldn't stop herself. She pulled herself up, inch by inch, until her chest rested against the coffin's edge.
Inside, the velvet lining looked soft. So soft. Like a bed made only for her.
Her body gave up. She collapsed into it.
The moment her head touched the lining, the lid swung shut with a heavy finality. Darkness swallowed her.
And then—
Her hunger vanished.Her thirst vanished.The pain in her body dissolved into nothingness.
For the first time since she had awoken in this cursed place, she felt… peace.
But peace came with a realization so sharp it hurt more than hunger ever had.
The coffin had always been waiting. Every door, every illusion, every fleeting comfort had been nothing but a path leading her here. The food, the treasure, the beauty—none of it had ever mattered.
Her destiny had never been survival.Her destiny had never been escape.
Her destiny had been the coffin.
A bitter laugh bubbled from her lips, but no sound escaped. Her body was no longer hers to command. Her eyelids grew heavy.
She thought of all she had feared, all she had run from. And in the end, it had been the only thing to accept her.
The coffin was not punishment.It was home.
Her final thought before eternal sleep was not of fear, nor anger, but of strange, unexplainable relief.
The doors pulsed once, then stilled.
The chamber of illusions had claimed its prize.