(Dillon’s POV)
The ruins appear out of nowhere—one minute we’re walking through endless fog, the next, we’re standing in front of crumbling stone arches and broken pillars, half-swallowed by the mist. The air feels heavier here, thicker, like the world itself is holding its breath. I don’t like it. None of us do. The others stand back, hesitant, their eyes wide with fear, but Joshua? He steps forward without a second thought, like this place is calling to him.
There’s something unsettling about how calm he is. Like this isn’t the creepiest shit we’ve ever seen. The fog is still swirling around us, but it’s quieter here, almost like it’s waiting for something. I take a step closer, my gut screaming at me that this place is wrong, that we shouldn’t be here, but I can’t stop. I can’t let Joshua go in alone.
And then we see it.
At the center of the ruins, partially buried in the stone, is a glowing key. It’s not like any key I’ve ever seen. It’s long, ancient-looking, carved from some dark metal that pulses faintly with light. The glow is eerie, casting shadows that shouldn’t exist, and the key itself hums, like it’s alive, like it’s waiting.
The others are behind us, murmuring, scared out of their minds. Matt is the first to speak up, his voice shaky. “What the fuck is that?”
No one answers. They’re too scared to move, too scared to think. I can’t blame them. Something about this key… it feels dangerous, like touching it would mean crossing a line you can’t uncross. My heart pounds in my chest as I stare at it, a sick feeling twisting in my gut.
But Joshua? He doesn’t hesitate.
Before I can stop him, he takes another step forward, his eyes locked on the key like he’s in a trance. The rest of us are frozen, watching in disbelief as he reaches out, his hand hovering inches from the glowing metal. I can see the way his muscles tense, like he’s fighting something inside himself, but he doesn’t stop. He’s going to touch it.
“Joshua, wait!” My voice cuts through the silence, harsher than I intended.
He freezes, his hand still in the air, but he doesn’t turn around. Doesn’t look at me. The fog swirls around his feet, and for a second, I swear I see something—shadows, figures moving in the mist, waiting for him to grab the key.
I step closer, my heart racing. “Don’t do this. You don’t know what it’ll do.”
He finally turns, his eyes meeting mine, and there’s something in his gaze that makes my stomach drop. He looks… calm. Too calm, like he’s already made up his mind.
“I have to,” he says quietly. “I don’t know why, but I have to.”
“Bullshit,” I snap, taking another step toward him. “You don’t have to do anything. This place? It’s messing with your head. It’s making you think you’re supposed to—”
“It’s not the place,” he interrupts, his voice steady. “It’s me.”
There’s a moment of silence as his words sink in, and I realize he means it. He feels connected to this—whatever the hell this is. It’s like the key is calling to him, pulling him in. And for the first time, I realize he’s right. This isn’t just some random nightmare. It’s something deeper. Something personal.
But the idea of Joshua touching that key, of whatever it means, makes my chest tighten. I can’t explain it, but the thought of him sacrificing himself, of him giving something up, feels… wrong. Unbearable, even.
And I have no idea why.
I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. Not Samantha, not any of my friends. But with Joshua? It’s like there’s something inside me that’s shifting, waking up, and I don’t know how to deal with it. All I know is that I can’t let him do this. Not like this.
I step closer, grabbing his arm before he can move any further. “Don’t,” I say, my voice quieter now, almost pleading. “Just… wait. Think this through.”
He frowns, but he doesn’t pull away. His eyes flicker back to the key, and for a moment, I see the conflict in him. He wants to touch it, but something in my voice must’ve gotten through to him, because he hesitates.
“What if it’s not about the key?” I ask, my grip tightening on his arm. “What if it’s about you? About us?”
His eyes snap to mine, and I can see the confusion there. “What do you mean?”
I glance at the key, its glow casting long shadows on the ground. “I mean… maybe it’s not about the key itself. Maybe it’s about what it’s asking for. It wants something from us. Something personal.”
Joshua narrows his eyes, thinking. “A sacrifice.”
I nod. “But it doesn’t have to be physical. Maybe it’s something deeper.”
We both look at the key again, its eerie glow pulsing with a strange rhythm. The others are still standing back, watching us with a mix of fear and disbelief, but they’re not part of this. Not really. This is about us—about what this place is trying to pull out of us.
Joshua pulls his arm free from my grip, but he doesn’t move toward the key again. Instead, he takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, his frustration evident. “What do you think it wants, then? What sacrifice?”
I don’t know the answer. Not really. But something in my gut tells me that whatever it is, it’s not about blood or pain. It’s about fear. About confronting the things we’ve been running from.
I step closer to the key, but I don’t touch it. I can feel the pull now, the way it hums in the air, vibrating against my skin. “It wants us to face what we’re afraid of,” I say, my voice steady. “It’s not about dying or giving something up. It’s about confronting whatever the hell we’ve been hiding from.”
Joshua’s silent for a moment, his eyes fixed on the key. Then he looks at me, his expression unreadable. “And what if we can’t do it?”
I swallow hard. “Then we’re fucked.”
It’s the truth. Whatever this key is, whatever it’s asking for, we can’t avoid it. We’re in too deep now, and there’s no going back. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to let Joshua sacrifice himself. Not when I know—deep down—that this isn’t about him throwing himself into danger. It’s about facing the things that scare us the most.
And for the first time, I realize that what scares me the most isn’t the fog, or the creatures, or even the key.
It’s the idea of losing Joshua.
I don’t say it out loud. I can’t. But I know it’s true. And that truth is what makes me pull back from the key, refusing to let it control us.
“We need to face this,” I say, turning to Joshua, my voice firm. “But not like this. Not by giving in.”
He looks at me, really looks at me, and for a second, I think he understands. There’s something between us now, something that wasn’t there before. It’s unspoken, but it’s real.
He nods, stepping back from the key. “Alright,” he says quietly. “We’ll do this together. But we’re not giving in.”
I exhale, the tension in my chest loosening just a little. We’ve made the right choice. I can feel it.
But as we turn to regroup with the others, I can’t shake the feeling that the real test hasn’t even begun yet.
The key still glows behind us, pulsing with that eerie light, but we leave it where it is. It’s not our time to touch it. Not yet.
The fog thickens again as we walk away, but this time, it feels different. Like it’s waiting for us to make the next move.
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