The Stranger’s Invitation

They awoke to silence.

Not the gentle kind, but the thick, choking kind that hung over everything like a wet cloth. It made the air feel heavier, harder to breathe. The space around them was vast and empty—a dome of black stone, perfectly smooth and seamless, with no doors, no exits. Only a single silver circle lit up beneath them, casting long, distorted shadows.

Lina sat up slowly. Her head throbbed. Around her, the others were already rising: Haider. Saira. Zayan. Areeba. No one spoke. Their eyes met, but none had the strength to ask what came next.

Then the voice returned.

That same unfeeling, metallic voice.

> "You have come far."

> "But this game has no room for the untested."

A low rumble followed. Behind each player, the wall shimmered. Two doors appeared—one glowing red, the other glowing white.

> "One of these is truth. One is a trap."

> "The red door leads you to the heart of your fear."

> "The white door leads to nothing. Choose wrong, and your journey ends here."

The room pulsed. None needed more instructions.

One by one, they each chose red.

---

Lina

She stepped into a world of mirrors. A thousand versions of herself stared back—young, old, smiling, weeping. They whispered things only she could hear.

> "You should've spoken up."

> "You always stood by."

> "You let them do it."

Then one mirror cracked.

Out stepped a version of herself—same hair, same eyes—but older. Colder.

"You're the reason we were nothing," the reflection hissed. "You stayed quiet when it mattered."

Lina backed away, trembling. "I didn't know what to do."

"You did. You just didn't act."

Glass shattered. The reflection lunged.

Lina didn't scream. She stood firm, heart racing. "I was afraid. But I'm not now."

The figure froze mid-lunge. The mirrors dulled. A single door appeared at the far end, swinging open into darkness.

She walked through.

---

Haider

His trial began in a room filled with eyes.

Painted. Blinking. Floating in the air. They followed him, every step, every breath.

He remembered this feeling.

Judgment.

At the center of the room stood a boy—no older than ten—holding a violin.

"Play," the child said.

Haider's knees locked. His palms were already sweating. The instrument in his hands felt foreign, though he had practiced for years.

He raised the bow.

The first note screeched.

Laughter erupted from the walls. The child stared. Disappointed.

"You'll never be good enough."

Haider closed his eyes. Focused.

He drew the bow again—soft, shaky—but music began to rise. He played for himself this time, not for approval.

The laughter stopped. The room stilled.

The door appeared.

---

Saira

She found herself in a white hallway lined with lockers. The air smelled of old paper and disinfectant.

At first, she felt nothing.

Then the lights flickered—and the hallway began to shrink. The walls pushed inward. The ceiling lowered. Her breath caught in her throat.

Claustrophobia.

She spun around. No door. No handle. Just narrowing space.

A voice whispered from nowhere, "It's your fault. You let it close in."

"No," she whispered. "This isn't real."

The walls came closer.

She shut her eyes, breath hitching. "I'm not trapped. I'm not."

Her heartbeat thundered—but slowly, she extended her hand. Imagined the air expanding. Refused to let fear tighten around her.

The hallway stopped moving.

A panel beside her clicked open.

She stepped through.

---

Zayan

His fear came dressed as perfection.

He stood in a perfect living room. Trophies. Photos. Smiling family portraits. Everything in place. Too clean. Too quiet.

Then came the knock.

He opened the front door—and faced himself, grinning.

"You're going to disappoint everyone," the copy said. "Eventually, they'll all see it."

Zayan tried to close the door, but the double stepped in.

"You work so hard to be ideal. Why? You're still scared of being average."

Zayan clenched his fists. "So what if I am? I'm still here."

The figure frowned. "Then prove it."

It lunged—but shattered like glass the moment Zayan didn't flinch.

The trophies turned to ash.

The real door appeared.

He walked through.

---

Areeba

A single hospital bed.

She stood in the middle of a sterile room. Machines beeped. A monitor showed a flatline.

She approached the bed—her mother lying still, eyes open.

"I tried," Areeba whispered.

"I know," said the body. "But you still weren't there at the end."

Tears welled. "I was a child."

"You still carry the guilt."

The machines screeched. Alarms blared.

The floor cracked open beneath her.

She dropped to her knees.

"Please," she whispered, clutching the sheet. "I didn't leave her. I loved her."

The lights flickered—and the figure in the bed turned to her and smiled faintly.

"I know."

Everything faded.

She stepped into the dark beyond.

---

They emerged one by one.

Five red doors opened into a new chamber—dimly lit, circular, with no mirrors, no tricks.

They stood apart at first.

Silent.

Changed.

Then Lina took a breath and broke it: "We all made it?"

One by one, heads nodded.

For the first time, no one had been lost.

But the fear lingered.

Not in the room—but inside them.

And the game was far from over.

---