The Truth Hidden Beneath the Soul
Victor remained seated in the heart of the Mystery Woodland, unmoving like a statue carved from silence itself.
The mist drifted slowly around him, brushing against his skin like cold breath. Leaves rustled faintly overhead, and somewhere in the distance, a beast let out a low, echoing cry—but none of it reached him.
His mind was far away.
Lost.
Drowning in the visions.
Victor was confused.
Not the kind of confusion that came from lack of knowledge—but the kind that gnawed at the core of one's existence. The kind that made even someone like him pause.
Why now?
Why these visions?
Why him?
His brows tightened slightly, the only visible sign of disturbance on his otherwise calm face.
…This isn't random.
That much he knew.
Everything he had seen carried weight. Meaning. Intent.
And more than anything—
Familiarity.
Victor exhaled slowly, his breath merging with the cold mist.
There's something inside me.
Something I haven't seen yet.
