By IMERPUS RELUR
--
The door did not open.
It invited.
Imer approached.
It pulsed like a heartbeat.
No knob. No keyhole.
Just presence.
He raised his hand.
The door opened—not to a room, but a question:
"What if all the monsters you ran from were never chasing you?"
He stepped through.
Darkness.
Not black—honest.
A realm without lies.
Voices whispered.
> "You ate their sin."
"You wore their shame."
"But never your own."
A shape formed—
Not human. Not beast.
A shell of guilt he carried like armor.
It lunged.
He didn't move.
The shape passed through him and shattered.
He didn't fight it.
He acknowledged it.
In the distance, a light sparked—
Not bright. Not blinding.
Just… enough.
He walked toward it, carrying nothing.