Your choice?

The lantern flickered, its flame shrinking as though afraid. Shadows stretched unnaturally, twisting into figures that crawled across the rocks. One shadow reached for him, its fingers brushing his ankle with a chill that burned. He staggered, but the door creaked wider, its hinges groaning like bones snapping.

Above, the constellation pulsed, its heart-shaped thorns tightening. The stars bled, dripping light that hissed as it struck the ground. Elias looked back at the lake, only to see faces rising from its surface—pale, hollow-eyed, their mouths opening in silent pleas. The water rippled though no wind stirred, and the faces began to climb out, dragging themselves toward him.

The door stood like a wound in the world, its frame bleeding with runes that pulsed as though alive. The lake behind it reflected not the stars above but twisted galaxies, spiraling into shapes that resembled screaming mouths. The inscription carved above dripped shadows that writhed like worms, spelling out a promise Elias could not ignore: The Last Door You’ll Ever Open.

He had come alone, lantern in hand, but the silence around him was not empty. The trees whispered, their bark carved into faces that seemed to watch him, their hollow eyes following his every step. The rocks beneath his boots groaned, as if they resented his weight. He felt the world lean toward him, urging him closer to the threshold.

The vortex within the door churned crimson, a storm of blood and ash. Shapes writhed inside—limbs, faces, fragments of bodies torn apart and reassembled. They beckoned with skeletal hands, their mouths opening in silent screams that somehow echoed in his skull. Elias felt his name whispered from every direction, a chorus of voices that knew him better than he knew himself.

The runes on the frame flared, searing his skin as he reached out. Black ichor dripped from the inscription above, staining his shoulders, soaking into his clothes. He tried to step back, but the ground cracked beneath him, releasing whispers from the earth. The trees leaned closer, their branches curling like claws, their carved faces twisting into grins.

The vortex roared, and his lantern shattered, extinguishing the last light he carried. Darkness swallowed him, yet the door glowed brighter, its crimson storm pulling him forward. He stumbled, dragged by unseen hands, his body no longer his own. The voices merged into one deafening command: Stay.

Inside, there was no ground, no sky—only endless falling through storms of blood. The hands he had glimpsed now clutched him, tearing at his flesh, dragging him deeper. Around him floated countless souls, suspended in the vortex, their eyes hollow, their mouths open in eternal screams. He saw their faces twist into his own reflection, as though he had always belonged here.

The deeper he fell, the more the voices changed. They no longer whispered his name—they spoke his memories, his sins, his fears. Every secret he had buried clawed its way out, echoing in the storm. He realized the door did not lead to another world—it led to himself, to the darkest corners of his soul, magnified and eternal

The door closed behind him with a groan, sealing the world outside. The runes dimmed, waiting for the next wanderer. Above, the inscription gleamed once more: most of it twisted into an unknown, ancient script no mortal could decipher—except for a single word that burned clear: OPEN. And the night grew darker, swallowing the stars, as though the universe itself had just devoured another soul.

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