Lost In Fatal Existence

A heavy silence settled over the distorted landscape as Alexia opened her eyes. The world around her was wrong. Twisted structures stretched into the sky like frozen waves, and the air carried a strange hum, as if the very fabric of reality was vibrating. She was alone.

"Jay?" Her voice barely echoed, swallowed by the vast nothingness. Panic coiled in her chest. The last thing she remembered was standing with the others—then a shift, a ripple in the world, and now she was here. Wherever here was.

She took a cautious step forward, the ground beneath her feet flickering between solid earth and an abyss of reflections. She clenched her fists. This wasn't just separation. It was something worse.

---

Roy groaned, rubbing his head as he pushed himself off the cold, stone-like surface. A thick fog rolled through the air, distorting shapes and distances. He scanned his surroundings, tension settling in his shoulders.

"Merlin? Parker? Zhen?"

Nothing. Just eerie silence and the sensation of being watched. He gritted his teeth. This world was playing tricks on them.

A whisper brushed past his ear. Low. Indistinct.

Roy spun, fists raised, but there was nothing there. His heartbeat pounded in his ears. He knew better than to trust anything in Lost Existence, but being alone was worse than any illusion it could throw at him.

---

Merlin adjusted his coat, his mind already racing to analyze the situation. The laws of this world weren't stable; they had been separated for a reason. Perhaps Lost Existence was testing them, pushing them into corners of their own making.

He knelt, running a hand across the surface of the ground. It rippled, as if the world itself was made of water. A world of illusions and deception. A world of lies.

If that was the case, then the key to survival wasn't brute force—it was understanding.

---

Parker exhaled sharply, glancing around the endless stretch of mirrored terrain. Every step he took echoed louder than it should. His own reflection rippled beneath his feet, distorted and unrecognizable.

"Not real," he muttered. "None of this is real."

But knowing that didn't make it any easier. His fingers twitched at his sides. If he didn't find the others soon, he might lose himself in the illusions just like everything else in this cursed world.

---

Zhen kept moving, his pace steady but cautious. Every shadow felt like it carried eyes. Every sound was a whisper just beyond comprehension. His instincts screamed at him to be on guard.

Then he saw it—a flicker of movement ahead. A figure. Familiar.

He narrowed his eyes. "Alexia?"

She stood still, too still. Then, in a voice that wasn't quite hers, she spoke.

"You're not supposed to be here."

Zhen's blood ran cold.

---

Each of them faced their own trial, their own uncertainty. Lost Existence was more than a world—it was a test. A trap. And if they didn't find a way to see through the lies, they might never escape.

They might never find each other again.

Continues.

...

...

"You're not supposed to be here," the figure spoke, its voice low, unnatural, echoing as if it were coming from a place beyond Alexia herself. It wasn't her voice. It was something else—something darker.

Zhen's fingers flexed around the hilt of his sword. This isn't right. This isn't her.

"Alexia," he repeated, taking a cautious step forward. "Where's the others? Where's Jay?"

The figure's lips curled into a slow, chilling smile, the reflection of Alexia warping with the grin. "It doesn't matter," it whispered, the words dragging with an eerie finality. "You're already lost. All of you are."

Zhen's pulse quickened, and his instincts screamed at him to move, to escape. But his feet stayed rooted to the ground, his eyes locked on the reflection of the girl who was no longer just a reflection.

He raised his sword, the blade gleaming in the twisted light of this world, and stepped back, preparing for what might come next. "I'm not lost," he said through clenched teeth. "And neither are they."

The figure's laugh rang out, hollow and dissonant, as the air around them began to shimmer, blurring their forms. For a brief moment, Alexia's face flickered back to normal, but it was only for a second—too brief to be real. The moment the distortion settled, the figure was gone. Vanished. Leaving Zhen alone, heart pounding.

---

The ripples in the air hadn't settled before Zhen turned and walked away, his mind racing. That wasn't Alexia.

Each step he took felt like a journey deeper into the web of illusions, the haunting uncertainty of this place growing heavier with every breath. The world shifted around him, its surfaces flickering and warping, but Zhen's focus remained unwavering. He had to find the others. No matter what this place threw at him, he couldn't afford to lose himself.

---

Meanwhile,

Alexia was still reeling from the encounter. The moment Zhen had called her name, something deep inside her had flinched, a warning that she couldn't fully comprehend.

She had turned, heart racing, only to find that nothing was there. The world was empty again, save for the strange architecture that loomed overhead. The sky was an unnatural shade, and the ground beneath her flickered in and out of existence.

What was that?

Her hand instinctively reached for the tarot cards hidden within her sleeve. They had been her guide, her shield, but now, in this distorted world, even they felt distant, unreachable. She shuffled them nervously, hoping to ground herself in something familiar. But the cards were silent, unyielding.

"I'm not losing them," Alexia muttered to herself, voice trembling as the weight of isolation pressed against her. Zhen, Roy, Merlin... I need to find them.

She pushed forward, her resolve hardening, even as the air seemed to grow colder, the world around her distorting further with each step.

---

Elsewhere,

Roy stood motionless, his eyes narrowed as he scanned the fog-filled expanse. Every shadow felt like it could spring to life, every corner a potential trap. He knew he couldn't rely on just his senses here. This world was designed to make him question everything—his thoughts, his reality.

A faint whisper tugged at his ear again, like a thread being pulled taut in the distance. He clenched his fists, muscles tense. The whisper came closer, clearer now, and his heart skipped.

"Roy..."

He spun around, fists raised, but there was no one there.

Don't fall for it. Stay calm.

Another flicker of movement—a shape darting between the shadows. He wasn't sure if it was real, but it was all he had. He took off in pursuit, ignoring the cold shiver running down his spine. The others were somewhere in this place, and if he could just reach them…

"Merlin? Parker?" he called out, hoping against hope for a response.

But only the silence answered.

---

Merlin stood still, his eyes closed in deep concentration. The ripples in the air, the shifting landscape—it was all connected. But how?

He had a feeling this world was more than a mere prison. It was a reflection of them, their fears, their uncertainties—every ounce of doubt manifested in the form of their surroundings. His mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle.

What am I missing?

He knelt, pressing his fingers to the ground again. The ripples ran through him, the world around him distorting as the illusion of stability broke apart once more. The walls—if they could even be called walls—seemed to close in, a reminder of the trap they were in.

"There's something wrong here..." Merlin muttered to himself. "But I won't let it break me."

And as the hum of Lost Existence grew louder, a figure moved out of the corner of his eye—too quick to catch fully, but it was there. His instincts told him to follow.

---

Parker's steps echoed loudly in the stillness of the mirrored terrain. Every movement felt unnatural, distorted, like his own body wasn't in sync with reality. The reflections beneath him twisted, contorting his own form into something unrecognizable. He had to find the others—he couldn't keep going in circles.

"Alexia? Zhen? Merlin?"

No answer came, and the silence grew unbearable.

No. This isn't real. It's just a trap. But the doubts crept in, and Parker couldn't shake the feeling that something, or someone, was watching him.

---

Each of them was caught in the grip of Lost Existence—where reality could bend, warp, and twist. They had to keep moving, keep fighting, or risk being consumed by the lies. If they didn't find each other soon, they might lose themselves in the darkness of this place.

Jay's Perspective

The world around Jay seemed to melt away, his vision blurring as the air thickened. He could no longer see the twisted landscape of Lost Existence, only the faint outline of what seemed like a familiar place.

At first, it was subtle—a distant warmth in the air, the faint sound of laughter in the distance. But then, it grew louder, clearer, more real. His surroundings began to shift, the dark, empty world of Lost Existence fading into something altogether different.

The air smelled of fresh grass. The sun was shining brightly overhead. He stood at the edge of a familiar forest, a place he hadn't seen in what felt like forever.

No… this isn't possible.

Jay's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the scene before him. It was his childhood home. The yard was full of life, the old oak tree he used to climb stood proud in the center, and there—at the far side of the yard—was his mother. She was smiling at him, as she always had when he was young.

"Jay, come inside!" Her voice rang out, so full of warmth. "Dinner's ready, dear. Don't keep me waiting."

Jay's breath caught in his throat. He hadn't thought about his mother in years—her face was a memory, distant and clouded by the pain of loss. The pain of a world he could no longer return to. And yet, here she was.

"Mom?" His voice trembled, as if the word itself could shatter the fragile reality before him.

She laughed softly and beckoned him closer, her movements so fluid, so real. But as Jay took a step forward, something in him screamed that this was wrong. He hesitated.

He hadn't noticed before, but something was off. The world around him had a glossy, too-perfect sheen. The colors were brighter than he remembered, the edges of the scene sharper, like a painting too carefully crafted to feel real.

"Jay, why are you standing there? You're not still angry with me, are you?" His mother's voice wavered as she tilted her head, her smile never fading.

Jay's eyes narrowed. This isn't real. It can't be.

His body froze. The warmth, the love—it was all just an illusion. He had learned better than to fall for this in Lost Existence. But why did it feel so real? So painfully familiar?

The world around him flickered, the edges warping, twisting. His mother's face began to distort, her features stretching unnaturally. Her eyes became hollow voids, blacker than the shadows in Lost Existence.

The smile never left her face. It grew wider, almost too wide.

"Don't you miss me, Jay?" Her voice changed, growing colder, darker, like something was crawling beneath the surface of her words. "Don't you want to come home?"

Jay stumbled back, shaking his head violently. "No, no, this isn't real!"

But the illusion kept pulling him back. The forest began to close in on him, the trees growing taller, more twisted. His feet were sinking into the ground, the grass turning to mud as the once-beautiful landscape turned nightmarish.

"Jay..." The voice stretched, dragging out the syllables like a cold wind. "You're never going to escape. This is where you belong."

Jay tried to move, to escape the nightmare, but the world around him was no longer just a landscape—it was a cage. The air thickened, choking him as he fought against the overwhelming sense of suffocating grief that rushed through his chest.

"You're trapped here," the distorted voice echoed, a cacophony of whispers merging with the mockery of his mother's laugh. "You can never go back."

I can't... I can't stay here... Jay thought desperately, trying to focus, trying to break free of the grip the illusion had on him. He had to push past it. He had to find the others.

The scene twisted violently, his mother's face melting into darkness. The world began to disintegrate around him, until all that was left was the black void of Lost Existence.

But even in the blackness, the whisper remained, faint but persistent: "You will never escape your past, Jay. It's already too late."

Jay gasped for breath as the vision vanished, and he found himself standing alone in the cold, oppressive darkness of Lost Existence once more. His hands were trembling, his heart racing. But even with the illusion gone, the sting of loss lingered deep in his chest, like a wound that refused to heal.

I will escape, he thought, the weight of his past still heavy on his shoulders. I will find them.

Jay's Perspective - Resolving the Illusion

Jay stood in the middle of the dark, empty room, the world swirling around him. His mother's voice filled the air, so real, so familiar. "Come back to me, Jay."

For a moment, he felt the familiar tug at his chest, the warmth of home—the home he thought he had lost. But then, the reality of the world around him, the distorted and suffocating atmosphere of Lost Existence, settled in. He clenched his fists.

"No. This isn't real," he whispered to himself.

The illusions shifted, flickering like broken glass, but the comfort of his mother's figure remained. She reached out to him, her face a reflection of the joy they had once shared.

But Jay knew better. He had faced this grief before. He had learned to live with it, to move on.

"I'm not your child anymore," he said aloud, his voice louder this time, gaining strength. The illusion faltered, and his mother's face distorted, becoming more and more unnatural with every word he spoke. He couldn't let himself be lured back into a past that was never going to return.

Jay took a step back, looking around the empty space. The room felt colder now, the comforting warmth of the illusion fading. He let out a breath, steadied his nerves, and looked inward. This is my past, he thought. But I don't have to live in it anymore.

With a deep breath, Jay closed his eyes. He focused, drawing on the strength he'd built through all his battles, all his experiences. He wasn't the child who had lost everything. He was a survivor. He had grown. And now, he was breaking free.

When his eyes opened again, the illusion shattered. The comforting light faded to blackness, and the echo of his mother's voice died away. Jay was left alone in the dark, but it was different now—he had faced the truth. He could move on.

---

Alexia's Perspective - Resolving the Illusion

Alexia stood in front of a mirror, but the reflection staring back at her wasn't her own. It was an older version of herself, someone who had failed. The illusion mocked her, showing her moments of weakness and regret—times when she could have done more, been better.

"You're weak," the reflection spat. "You can't even save them. What makes you think you're worthy of being here?"

The words stung, and for a moment, Alexia's resolve wavered. She remembered the times she had failed—the missions she hadn't completed, the moments she had hesitated. But then, something inside her stirred, and she gritted her teeth.

"No. I'm not that person anymore."

The illusion flickered, a brief pause before the reflection twisted into a more grotesque version of herself, all her insecurities and doubts amplified. This is what you really are, the illusion taunted.

Alexia stepped forward, narrowing her eyes. "No. You're not me. You're just a lie."

Her reflection sneered back, but Alexia could see the cracks forming, the edges of the illusion fraying. She took a deep breath and, with every ounce of determination, said, "I've learned from my mistakes. I've grown from them. And I'm strong enough to face this."

With those words, the reflection screamed and shattered into pieces, the shards falling away like dust. The room around her began to warp and twist, but Alexia stood firm. The lie had no hold on her anymore. She had accepted who she was—who she had become—and she was free.

---

Roy's Perspective - Resolving the Illusion

Roy stumbled through the fog, the mist pressing in on all sides. It was suffocating, and with each step, it seemed to whisper doubts into his ears—doubts he couldn't shake.

"Why are you still going?" the mist asked, its voice a low hiss. "You'll never find them. You're just a failure, always running from what you can't face."

Roy shook his head, refusing to listen. "I'm not a failure," he muttered, his voice breaking through the suffocating fog. He clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. "I've faced worse than this."

The mist shifted, taking on the shape of his past fears—moments when he had hesitated, times when he had doubted himself. But as the shadows of his past rose around him, Roy stood tall.

"You don't control me anymore," he said, his voice steady. "I've fought too many battles to let you bring me down."

The shadows of his past tried to reach for him, to pull him back, but Roy's resolve was stronger. With a final roar, he pushed through the fog, his fists cutting through the mist like a blade. The illusions wavered, their grip on him breaking. The fog parted, and the darkness cleared, revealing the emptiness of Lost Existence once again.

Roy didn't look back. He was no longer chained by the fear of his own mind. He was free to move forward.

---

Zhen's Perspective - Resolving the Illusion

Zhen's eyes locked onto the figure of Alexia ahead of him, standing motionless in the distance. Her form was different, too still, too perfect, and when she spoke, her voice wasn't hers.

"You're not supposed to be here."

Zhen froze, his heart skipping a beat. He had to be sure. This wasn't just a trick of the mind—it felt real. Too real.

But then, he thought of the others. He thought of their journey together. He thought of the moments that had forged their bond, and he realized something: he couldn't let himself be swayed by this illusion.

"Alexia," he called softly, taking a step toward her. "I know you. This isn't you."

The figure tilted its head, the smile on its face unnaturally wide, stretching too far. But Zhen stood firm, his heart unwavering. "I'm not fooled by you."

The illusion flickered, a brief crack in its form, and Zhen took another step. He knew who he was—he knew the truth. And nothing, not even this illusion, could change that.

"I won't be deceived."

The figure of Alexia twisted, its form distorting into shadow. Zhen didn't flinch. He had found his truth, and with it, he shattered the illusion, watching as it collapsed into nothingness.

Merlin's Perspective - Resolving the Illusion

Merlin blinked as he found himself standing in the middle of a sterile, white-walled office. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead was all too familiar. He could feel the weight of the pressure—a constant, nagging presence that had once been a daily companion in his previous life. He was back in the office. The same cubicle, the same stacks of paperwork, the same deadlines hanging over his head.

The illusion was vivid, too vivid. His heart started to race as he watched his past self, a younger Merlin, hunched over a computer screen. He saw himself, straining to meet deadlines, trying to manage countless responsibilities, managing a team that was always frustrated and disengaged. And there it was—the same pressure he'd once known, the fear that his leadership was inadequate, that his decisions were constantly being questioned.

"You're not good enough," a voice broke through the silence. It was the voice of his former boss, a cold and distant figure. "You were supposed to lead this team, but look at the results. You failed. You couldn't even keep your own colleagues happy."

Merlin's chest tightened as his former boss' scornful words echoed in his mind. The disappointment, the anger. His inability to meet expectations had haunted him for years, and now, in Lost Existence, it had come to life as the very core of his illusion.

He watched as his younger self slumped in the chair, crushed by the weight of it all. His coworkers muttered behind his back, casting sideways glances, and some even shook their heads in disappointment. He could feel the isolation and guilt he had once experienced so intensely.

But this wasn't real.

Merlin took a deep breath and stood taller. He had known failure before, and yet, here he was—leading again. He had learned from that version of himself. This wasn't the same man who had been paralyzed by fear. He had grown since then.

"You're not your past," Merlin whispered to himself, stepping forward. "I'm not him anymore."

He turned away from the illusion, choosing not to interact with his past failures, and instead, focused on what he had done since. The leadership role he held now was different—it wasn't about pleasing everyone or meeting impossible expectations. It was about making difficult choices, ones that weren't always popular but were necessary for the greater good.

As Merlin stood in the center of the office, the walls began to distort. The flickering lights dimmed, and the desk and cubicles slowly disintegrated into shadows. His past self, sitting in the chair, crumbled into dust, unable to withstand the weight of the present truth.

Merlin smiled faintly. "Leadership isn't about perfection. It's about carrying forward despite the failures, despite the weight. It's about moving ahead when it's hard."

The office melted away, and he was left in the shifting void of Lost Existence. But now, it didn't feel like an overwhelming prison. Instead, it felt like a place he could conquer. The illusion had broken, and Merlin had once again found the clarity he needed.

---

Parker's Perspective - Resolving the Illusion

Parker found himself in an unfamiliar place, but one that was all too familiar in a different sense. The landscape shifted around him like a dream—his childhood home, the one he had grown up in, the one where everything had seemed perfect on the surface. But inside, the air was thick with hidden truths.

He stood before a mirror, staring at his reflection, but it wasn't him. Instead, it was the version of himself from years ago—still putting on a brave face, grinning even though his eyes told a different story. His reflection didn't speak, but its silence was louder than any words.

"Everyone thinks you're fine. You hide behind that smile, don't you? You keep pretending everything's okay, but you're broken inside," the reflection said, the voice cold and mocking.

Parker recoiled, feeling the sting of truth in the words. He had always been the cheerful one, the optimistic one, pushing through pain with a smile, refusing to let anyone see how much he was struggling. But in this illusion, he was forced to face the fact that his constant positive thinking had been his way of running from the deeper pain, the depression, the fear that had clung to him for years.

"You're just afraid. Afraid that if you show who you really are, you'll be rejected. You're hiding, and deep down, you know it."

The reflection's eyes seemed to pierce through him, but Parker shook his head, a lump forming in his throat. "No," he whispered. "I'm not hiding."

He stepped closer to the mirror, his heart pounding. "I've been scared. Scared of showing how much I'm hurting. But I can't keep pretending anymore. I have to face it."

As he spoke, the reflection wavered, its smirk fading into uncertainty. Parker's own voice grew louder as he declared, "I'm not afraid to show who I am. Not anymore."

The mirror cracked, the glass shattering with a loud, sudden noise. Behind the shattered reflection, the room dissolved, and Parker found himself standing in the ever-shifting void of Lost Existence. The weight of the illusion lifted, and for the first time in a long time, he felt the burden of his hidden pain no longer control him.

---

Together in the End

Merlin and Parker stood in the emptiness of Lost Existence, both having faced their respective pasts and illusions. Merlin's former life as an office worker and his struggles with leadership had been a heavy burden, but he had learned that true leadership was about growth and resilience, not about perfection. Meanwhile, Parker had confronted the deep well of fear and depression he had been hiding from, learning that it was okay to show his vulnerability and accept that he didn't have to carry everything alone.

They exchanged a glance, understanding the weight of what each had just faced. There was a new clarity in their eyes—an understanding of themselves and each other that hadn't been there before. They were ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead, no longer burdened by illusions or the weight of their pasts.

Together, they stepped forward into the unknown, knowing they weren't alone anymore, that they had the strength to face whatever this world—or any other—could throw at them.