Stranger: Back Home

Aerum walked steadily toward the tower, her heart firm despite the unknown awaiting her. The moment she stepped inside, the world around her dissolved into darkness. It was as if reality itself had been swallowed whole.

Then, the black void shifted. The darkness gave way to a dense forest, the air heavy with damp earth and the faint rustle of unseen creatures. Aerum felt her body change, shrinking, her limbs growing smaller. She glanced down at herself—she was no longer a grown woman but a vulnerable five-year-old child.

Her breath hitched as she took in her surroundings. The forest wasn't just any forest—it was familiar. Too familiar. A shiver crawled up her spine as she recognized it.

"This is... the place," she whispered.

The towering trees, their hollowed trunks wide enough to hide a child, were exactly as she remembered. It was the same forest she had fled to when she was hunted. The memories she had tried so hard to bury clawed their way back, raw and unrelenting.

The hollow tree where she had hidden, trembling, now stood before her like a twisted relic of her past. The fear she had buried erupted like a volcano, molten and consuming. She clenched her fists, trying to steady her breath.

Suddenly, a sound—soft, almost imperceptible—pierced the quiet. Her instincts flared, and she darted into the hollow tree trunk, her heart pounding. She crouched, listening intently, but there was nothing.

"No one's there," she muttered, her voice trembling. "This place... it's playing tricks on me."

She took a deep breath, her small chest rising and falling. "It's trying to use my own mind against me. I need to stay calm."

Fighting the rising tide of fear, Aerum stepped out of the tree trunk, determined to find her way out. She moved cautiously, the silence of the forest oppressive. The only sound was the crunch of leaves and branches beneath her tiny feet.

She walked for what felt like hours, but no matter which direction she took, she always ended up back at the same hollow tree. Panic gripped her, and wild thoughts flooded her mind.

"What's happening? Why can't I get out? Is this some cruel trick from Xenos?"

She shook her head, trying to steady herself. "No... he told me to overcome fear. But how? This place—it's where everything started. The pain... the terror... it's all here."

Her thoughts spiraled further. "Is this a trap? Is he even human? Or is he a demon? No, no... I can't think like that. I need to focus. I need to get out. I need to save my sister... to take revenge."

Aerum squeezed her eyes shut, her breathing erratic. Then, a memory surfaced—Xenos's voice, calm and resolute:

"Humans grow up with fear. But do you think suppressing it works? No. Suppressed fear festers. It erupts in destructive ways. Acknowledge it. Accept it. Then fight it. Let your heart know: yes, I fear it, but it will not stop me."

Her eyes snapped open. She inhaled deeply, her trembling hands steadying.

"Yes," she whispered, "I feared death. I feared what would happen to me. My parents were killed, and I ran. I ran because I was afraid. But I survived. I won't let fear rule me anymore."

Tears brimmed in her eyes, but they weren't of despair—they were of resolve. "I accept it. The pain, the fear... it's part of me, but it doesn't own me."

As the words left her lips, the hollow tree before her began to creak. A jagged line split down its trunk, and slowly, it opened, revealing a path beyond. The air shifted, lighter now, as if the forest itself acknowledged her triumph.

Aerum stepped forward, her head held high. She glanced back at the tree one last time and smiled faintly.

"The answer was always with me," she said, her voice steady. Then, without hesitation, she walked through the path, ready to face the next floor.

Aerum stepped through the path from the hollow tree, her heart still steady after overcoming her first trial. As she entered the second floor of the Tower of Nightmare, she paused, taking in the eerie sight before her.

The entire room was filled with mirrors—tall, wide, and endless, reflecting her image from every angle. At first glance, it was unsettling but harmless. Then, something shifted.

She moved closer to one mirror, and the reflection staring back wasn't of her current self. It was her, but much older, with streaks of silver in her hair and weariness in her eyes. She turned to another mirror, only to see herself as a young child, her small face filled with curiosity and innocence.

One by one, the mirrors displayed Aerum at different stages of her life—some reflecting her as she was now, others as an elderly woman, a teenager, or a frightened little girl. It was as if the mirrors held pieces of her soul, frozen in time.

Suddenly, the reflections began to speak.

"If I hadn't been born, my parents would still be alive," one whispered, her voice laced with regret.

"I wanted to go to school," said another, her voice trembling with longing.

"I wanted to have a boyfriend when I was young," came a wistful murmur from another reflection.

"I just wanted to live a normal life," echoed a voice that sounded hollow and broken.

The voices grew louder, overlapping, and multiplying until they became a cacophony. The reflections in the mirrors spoke all at once, their faces twisted with sorrow, anger, and blame. Their words struck deep, like needles piercing Aerum's heart.

Aerum clutched her chest, the weight of their pain and regrets threatening to overwhelm her. Their words were her own—the unspoken thoughts she had buried long ago, now dragged to the surface. Her breathing quickened as despair clawed at her resolve.

"No..." she whispered, trying to block out the voices. But they only grew louder, more relentless. The regret in their words echoed through her mind, twisting her emotions into a storm of pain.

Sensing that her grasp on herself was slipping, Aerum gritted her teeth and screamed at the top of her lungs, "Stop!"

The echoes ceased abruptly, leaving a profound silence that felt almost deafening. Her reflections stared back at her, frozen mid-sentence, their gazes unblinking.

Aerum took a shaky breath and stepped forward, addressing the reflections. Her voice was firm but filled with compassion. "Yes, I know. As we grow up, there are so many things we want to do. So many dreams, so many regrets. But that's life. Sometimes we get what we want, and sometimes we don't. What matters is how we live the life we have."

Her eyes scanned the mirrors, meeting each reflection's gaze. "We can't keep blaming others or ourselves for what we didn't have. Regrets will always exist, but every second of life is precious. Look forward. Cherish the time we have and stop looking at the past."

The reflections seemed to soften. Slowly, they nodded in unison, their expressions no longer filled with sorrow but with quiet understanding.

The mirrors began to crack, thin lines spiderwebbing across their surfaces. With a loud shatter, they burst open, the fragments swirling together in a mesmerizing dance of light. The shards reassembled, forming a single massive mirror that shimmered like a doorway.

Aerum stared at the new path, her heart lighter now. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and stepped through the glowing door, ready for whatever awaited her on the next floor.

Aerum opened her eyes and found herself lying on a soft bed. The room was warm, the light golden and soothing. A familiar voice called out to her, gentle and loving, accompanied by the soft shuffle of footsteps.

"Wake up, Aerum," the voice said.

She blinked, her vision adjusting. Standing before her was her mother, alive and radiant, with a playful smile on her face.

"Mom?" Aerum murmured, her voice trembling with disbelief. "What... what are you doing here?"

Her mother lightly tapped her on the head. "What kind of question is that? Get up, lazybones! You'll be late for college."

Aerum sat up, dazed. Was this a dream? Or had her life so far been some cruel illusion? The thought was overwhelming. She got out of bed, still trying to make sense of everything, and freshened up in the bathroom, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Is this real? she wondered, touching her face.

When she entered the dining hall, her father was there, waiting for her with a big grin. The moment their eyes met, he enveloped her in a warm hug. It was so real—the scent of him, the strength of his embrace, the comfort she had missed for so long.

They talked for hours, laughing about mundane things, sharing thoughts about life. Slowly, the edges of her real memories began to blur. Days turned into weeks, and Aerum found herself wrapped in the warmth of her parents' love, the ache of her true life fading into the background.

But something felt amiss. A faint whisper of unease lingered in her heart, though she tried to ignore it. Being with her parents, living this life she had once longed for, was intoxicating.

Two weeks later, as they were driving to Disneyland, Aerum stared out the car window. The cheerful chatter of her parents filled the air, but her chest tightened. Memories she had buried began to resurface—fragments of her real life bleeding into the dream.

When they arrived at Disneyland, the floodgates opened. Every step she took in the park brought back more of her true self. She remembered her struggles, her sister, the pain she had endured. But even as her heart ached, she felt gratitude for the fleeting moments with her parents.

After a full day of laughter, rides, and wandering the vibrant park, they prepared to leave. Aerum stopped and turned to face her parents.

"Mom, Dad," she began, her voice trembling. "Thank you for everything. For loving me, for caring for me, even if it's just a dream."

Her parents looked at her, confused and concerned. "What do you mean, child?" her father asked.

Aerum smiled, tears welling in her eyes. "I know this isn't real. I know I have to go back. My sister is waiting for me. I need to save her... but I'll never forget this. Thank you for giving me this moment of love and peace."

Her mother's face softened, but she didn't protest. Instead, both her parents smiled, their expressions warm and understanding, though tinged with sadness.

"Go," her mother said gently.

Aerum turned and walked away, leaving Disneyland behind. Her steps grew heavier, but she didn't stop. As she entered the shadowy forest bordering the park, the dream world began to crack. The sky fractured like glass, and shards of light fell around her.

A disembodied voice echoed in the void:

[ "Congratulations, you have passed the third floor. Would you like to quit or continue?" ]

Aerum closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and replied, "I quit for now."

The world shattered completely, and she found herself back in her room at the training hall. The silence of the real world was deafening. She looked around—there was no one. She was alone.

The weight of her experiences, the love she had felt, and the pain she had endured finally crashed over her. Tears streamed down her face as she sobbed uncontrollably, releasing the sorrow and stress she had held inside for so long.

For the first time in ages, Aerum allowed herself to cried freely.