This darkness wasn't normal.
It wasn't just the absence of light—it was thick, like liquid fear. A silence that roared louder than thunder. Bernad stood, weightless, breathless, in an empty void that rejected time.
He blinked.
No forest.
No statue.
No voices.
Only a golden spiral hovered high above him, rotating slowly like a watchful eye. Its glow was cold—almost judgmental.
"Where… am I?" His voice felt like it didn't belong.
Then came an echo—not from outside, but from within.
"You've entered the breach between memories and resets."
Bernad turned sharply. No figures. Just floating fractures in the air, like reality had cracked.
"Who are you?" he asked.
A silhouette emerged from the shadows. A man—barely whole—his right side glowing, the other dissolving into flickering dust. His presence was heavy with something worse than sadness—regret.
"I was chosen once," the figure said. "I tried to overwrite the system… but it overwrote me."
Bernad's throat tightened. "What do you mean?"
The man stepped closer, each movement echoing like footsteps in a forgotten dream.
"This island… it reshapes you. Piece by piece. Until even your name fades."
"No," Bernad said, voice shaking. "I won't let that happen to us."
The broken man tilted his head. "We all said that."
The spiral pulsed above them.
Suddenly, a deep hum rattled the void.
"System syncing — complete."
Bernad's eyes flew open.
He was back on the forest floor. Breathing hard. His arms trembled. Ryan and Jelyn were kneeling next to him.
"Bernad! You vanished for nearly three minutes!" Ryan's voice cracked.
"I wasn't gone…" Bernad said slowly. "I was somewhere the island hides."
Jelyn looked into his eyes. "What did you see?"
He hesitated. "Someone like me. Someone broken."
Then—
A vibration passed through the earth.
A cold alert rang out:
"Warning: Memory distortion detected."
"Phase Shift initialized — External Zone #4."
The wind stilled. Leaves paused in the air as if time stumbled.
Then Bernad saw it—
A child, no older than seven, standing within a transparent cube in the distance.
The child… had his face.
"That can't be…" Bernad whispered.
Jelyn's voice was hollow. "The island's not just reading us now… it's mirroring us."
Bernad stood, fists clenched.
"Then I'll stop it before it rewrites who I am."