I could not sleep that night. The stars above the forest blinked slowly, watching like silent judges across the veil of night. Each breath I drew felt thin, like the air itself feared what had happened within me. The pulse in my chest no longer just a heartbeat, but something older kept me alert. I had awakened something, and now it whispered behind my ribs.
When morning came, it was pale and gray. The sun barely pierced the mist that clung to the trees. I wandered aimlessly, led only by instinct and the pressure that throbbed inside me like a second soul. I did not yet understand what this system was, only that it had taken root in me. And that it was alive.
By midday, I reached a clearing I had never seen before. The grass here was dead, gray like ash. In the center stood a building I could not recall seeing from the path. It looked like it had been built from memories rotten wood, cracked glass, rusted hinges. My skin crawled.
It was a house, but not like the one before. This one felt different. It did not breathe. It loomed. It towered in silence like a monument to fear itself.
I did not want to enter.
And that was exactly why I had to.
My fingers closed around the iron key I still carried. It had grown colder since I last touched it. As I stepped toward the house, the sky darkened slightly, though no clouds passed the sun. The wind died. Even the insects stopped their song.
Terror greeted me at the threshold.
Not fear. Not anxiety. Terror the kind that turns your bones hollow and makes the world feel like it's closing in. My breath came faster. The house knew I was here.
I stepped inside.
The door groaned but did not resist. Inside, the air was sharp with the stench of mold and rot. The walls were smeared with dark stains, and the floor creaked with every motion, as if each plank resented my presence.
There were no windows.
Only a hallway that stretched deeper than it should have. I moved forward slowly, my hand brushing the wall to steady myself. Each step was a test, every inch heavier than the last. My legs wanted to run. My heart wanted to stop.
But I kept going.
At the end of the hallway, a door waited. It looked plain, unremarkable. But behind it, I could feel something watching. Breathing. Smiling.
I opened it.
The room beyond was a child's bedroom, or it had once been. A small bed sat in the corner, its sheets torn. Toys lay scattered across the floor, broken and burned. On the far wall, someone had scratched words into the plaster again and again, the same phrase over and over until their fingers must have bled:
"Don't look under the bed."
I turned.
The bed creaked.
Something moved beneath it.
My mouth went dry. My feet froze.
A low scratching sound came from beneath the mattress. Then a breath, wet and ragged, like lungs full of mud. My mind screamed to run, to leave, to burn the house behind me. But I couldn't move.
Because I had to see.
I knelt slowly. My body trembled. My hand reached forward as if possessed. My head dipped lower until I could see beneath the bed.
Nothing.
Only darkness.
Then eyes opened.
They were not human. Wide and glossy, like marbles drowned in oil. A mouth split open below them, too wide, too many teeth. And it whispered one word:
"Mine."
I fell backward, scrambling across the floor. The thing slid out from under the bed like smoke, its limbs too long, its body impossible. It didn't walk. It crawled. And it laughed a sound like broken glass being ground into wood.
I couldn't breathe.
My vision dimmed.
I reached for anything, a weapon, a tool, a hope. My hand landed on a shard of mirror lying on the floor. I raised it. The thing paused.
It looked at its reflection and shrieked.
The room shattered like glass.
I was lying in the grass outside. The house behind me was gone. In its place, only a tree remained, dead and blackened by some long-forgotten fire. The terror still pulsed inside me, but I understood it now.
It was not just a monster.
It was a memory.
A part of me.
The system had revealed another truth: emotions were not traits to be managed. They were realms to be entered. And each realm held a guardian.
I had stepped into the Domain of Terror.
And survived.
But there were others.
Grief. Anger. Joy. Desire.
Each waited with its own world, its own test.
This was no ordinary power. No simple gift. It was a labyrinth of the soul, and I had only just opened the first door.