Unwrapped

Chapter 2: The Instigator

Panic constricted my throat, suffocating any attempt to breathe in or out. I stumbled backward as a wooden signboard, engulfed in orange flames, blazed the words, “The Labyrinth of Echoes.” “GUYS?!” I shouted at the top of my lungs, my voice cracking with desperation when I saw no trace of them. Ahead of me, a single entrance to the labyrinth—or whatever this was—yawned open. My attention was immediately drawn to the so-called "walls"—if they could even be called that. They weren’t solid structures but a flowing mass of dark, ink-like liquid, suspended in an unsettlingly fixed state. Swallowing the nausea rising in my throat, I stepped back again, only to trip over something. Snapping my gaze downward, I spotted the clock without hands. Its ticking, disproportionately loud for such a fragile, diminutive object, echoed in my ears. Cursing under my breath, I bent to pick it up, fumbling as I searched for a way to silence it. My trembling hands betrayed my terror; the clock slipped from my grasp repeatedly, refusing to stay still. “Ugh, dammit!” I muttered.

“Caius… go on then,” a hushed whisper cut through the oppressive silence, making me yelp. I spun around wildly, searching for the source. “Who’s there?!” I demanded, clutching the incessantly ticking clock like a lifeline. My eyes darted frantically, but there was no place to hide. Everywhere I looked, I feared the flames would consume me at any moment. Suddenly, a grotesque image materialised, bathed in a ghostly, sickly glow with edges that bled white smoke. I cried out, shielding my face as I tumbled to the ground, scrambling away on my hands and knees. “THEY’LL LEAVE YOU, CAIUS! JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!” It was a woman, eerily beautiful yet horrifyingly twisted, her face warped beyond recognition. Without thinking, I bolted into the labyrinth.

After running for what felt like minutes, I skidded to a halt before a shattered mirror. My breath came in ragged gasps, sweat soaking my shirt until it clung to my skin. Then, without warning, the mirror exploded outward, and a hand gripped the remaining shards, pulling out a figure. I screamed as a girl’s half-destroyed face stared at me, her wide, bloodshot eyes piercing through me. Her hands, slick with blood from the jagged glass, trembled as she whispered, “Why didn’t you stop them? You laughed while I screamed.”

Horrified, I turned and fled deeper into the maze, running blindly until exhaustion forced me to stop. As I leaned against the liquid walls, my reflection stared back at me, but when I looked again, the surface had changed, now showing veins pulsating beneath a fleshy sheen. Wet, slithering sounds echoed behind me. “Lirael?! Thorne?!” I called out, my voice breaking, but only my own panicked cries reverberated back. Then, at the end of the corridor, a figure emerged. Relief flooded me when I recognized Thorne—until I saw his state. His face was grotesquely distorted, his body marred with jagged scars that oozed ink. “You always talk big, but when it matters, you run,” he snarled, his voice layered, as though three beings spoke in unison. My panic surged anew, and I turned to flee once more.

Every corner I rounded was filled with echoes of voices—some achingly familiar, others chilling my blood. Rick’s distorted, nightmarish visage appeared at one point, screaming, “Coward!” over and over. “STOP! STOP THIS!” I begged, my legs trembling as exhaustion seeped into my bones. But the voices wouldn’t relent. “LIAR!” “MANIPULATOR!” they chanted, relentless and unyielding. After what felt like an eternity, I stumbled upon a door adorned with Christmas decorations. The warm scent of brewing hot chocolate wafted through the air, tantalizingly close. Summoning every ounce of courage, I took cautious steps toward it. Just as I reached the threshold, a shadowy figure materialised beside the door.

“There’s always a catch,” I muttered bitterly, almost laughing at the absurdity.

“Would you like to return to safety? To escape this chaos?” the figure asked, its voice smooth and coaxing.

I blinked, hesitant. “Cut out the guilt. Cut out the pain. Just walk through, and no one will ever know,” it continued. The words lulled me into a trance, and I took an unconscious step forward. The torment could finally end. But doubt clawed at me. “How can I trust you?” I rasped.

A low, sinister chuckle rumbled from the figure. “Of course, it won’t be free,” it sneered, waving a hand. The door swung open violently, revealing Lirael being dragged by her hair, thrashing and screaming as she clawed at the void around her. The endless blackness swallowed her, leaving no escape.

“No!” I shouted, reaching out instinctively, but the door slammed shut before I could act. The cacophony of voices around me swelled to a deafening roar.

“You have a choice,” the figure intoned coldly. “Your safety at their expense…”

“Or?” I croaked, my voice barely audible over the chaos.

“Or you must leave behind a piece of yourself as payment.”

At that moment, everything except the broken-mirror-girl vanished, leaving an unsettling emptiness in its wake. She stood at a fair distance, clad in a tank top and shorts, her appearance hauntingly vivid against the void. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, reaching below her waist, and it swayed gently as though caught in a breeze, despite the oppressive stillness of this enclosed nothingness. What unnerved me the most, however, was her peculiar motion—walking forward but remaining fixed in place, as if suspended in time. Then, abruptly, she looked up. The sound of screeching tires split the silence like a jagged blade, and in the blink of an eye, she was sprawled before me, her body grotesquely broken and bleeding, painting the emptiness in shades of crimson.

I pressed a trembling hand over my mouth, feeling shockwaves of horror reverberate through my entire being. My throat constricted painfully, trapping my voice in an agonising silence. Behind me, I heard a burst of laughter, cold and disturbingly familiar. Spinning around sharply, I found myself face-to-face with my high-school self, holding up a phone and recording the girl’s anguish as though it were a spectacle.

“What!? That never happened!” The words burst out of me, my chest tightening with indignation. White-hot rage clouded my vision, my hands curling into fists at the blatant falsehood. Yet, as if to mock me, the girl rose to her feet like a scene rewound on a cursed videotape. She lowered her head, then suddenly snapped it upward again, only to collapse once more, her form mangled and bleeding. The laughter returned, echoing relentlessly in my ears. Over and over, the grotesque cycle played out, each repetition hammering away at my sanity.

Frustrated beyond reason, I hurled the only object I had—the clock—straight at my laughing doppelgänger. “Stop it!” I screamed, my voice cracking under the weight of desperation. My vision blurred with unshed tears as sweat trickled down the sides of my face, pooling at my collar. If I stripped off my shirt and wrung it out, it could likely fill an entire bucket. The clock struck its target, and my younger self wavered before dissipating into thin air. Relief surged through me, only to be snatched away as I felt a hand clamp down on my shoulder from behind.

I froze, every muscle in my body locking in place as my heart pounded against my ribcage like a caged animal. “Why don’t you look at yourself, Caius?” a voice eerily similar to my own whispered in a chilling tone. I turned, dread pooling in my stomach, to find a figure standing before me—a grotesque version of myself. Its eyes were voids of black, soulless and alien, staring at me with a piercing frown. I stumbled back in horror, only to bump into another figure, identical yet different.

“Look at what you’ve done,” it sneered, its grin unnatural and twisted, exuding malice so palpable that I almost regretted returning my mother’s cross necklace. Not that I knew what protection it could offer in this hellscape. The last figure was crying, its wails gut-wrenching as it clutched a bleeding, severed heart in its bare hands. A gaping hole in its chest pulsed grotesquely, oozing with a darkness that seemed alive.

The girl’s scene shifted again, morphing into a vision of her drowning in an abyss of black ink. I stood on the sidelines, my laughter ringing out in cruel mockery. “No! Let her go!” I bellowed, rushing toward her. But just as I reached out to touch her, the world changed once more. Overhead, a monstrous hourglass materialised, grotesque and pulsating, its contents thick with blood that dripped slowly, each drop reverberating like a death knell.

The three versions of myself twisted into grotesque shapes. The sneering figure transformed into a serpentine creature, its slick body glistening with malice as a forked tongue darted from its fanged maw. Its hissing words pierced me: “Mum, I didn’t steal from the corner shop!” “Played a girl’s heart? Please, she should’ve seen it coming!” “Well, it’s not my fault he’s so weak he can’t defend himself!” “I didn’t set the classroom on fire just to skip detention—it’s not my fault the teacher got hurt!” Each lie struck me like a physical blow.

Are those… my words? Things I’ve actually said? My stomach churned as guilt twisted within me. The heartless figure, now a bloodied, broken version of myself, mumbled incoherently, blaming itself for failures it had never even tried to overcome. It seemed indifferent to its suffering. The eyeless one hunched over, its faceless head trembling as skeletal hands reached for me, clawing at the air and pointing at the broken mirror. “It’s easier this way,” it rasped. “Stay hidden.”

My heart thundered violently, the terror of facing these manifestations nearly paralysing me. Then, out of nowhere, a portal tore through the fabric of this nightmare, spitting out four familiar figures. Relief was fleeting as the monstrous spirits immediately began circling them. Lirael waved a jagged shard of broken mirror, warding off the encroaching creatures. Selene sprayed them with something that made them writhe in agony, while Thorne fought like a seasoned soldier, his shield deflecting attacks with practiced ease. Nyx, though less flashy, darted skillfully around the spirits, evading their reach.

I didn’t have the luxury of relief—I had my own demons to face. “Myself,” I whispered, the realisation dawning on me like a crushing weight. These were fragments of my past, the echoes of my misdeeds and the pain I’d inflicted, both intentionally and unintentionally. “They represent me, don’t they?” The words tasted bitter on my tongue as guilt consumed me.

The serpent lunged at me, its fangs bared. Instead of retreating, I seized a shard of glass from the broken mirror and slashed at it, a scream tearing from my throat as pain exploded in my side. Blood seeped from the wound, staining my hands. “They’re you, idiot!” Lirael shouted, her voice cutting through the chaos as she brandished her mirror shard like a weapon. The spirits recoiled under its glare. Selene’s sprays drove them back further, while Thorne’s relentless attacks held them at bay.

The hourglass loomed overhead, its blood nearly depleted. My determination solidified as I faced the heartless figure. Dropping the glass shard, I charged headfirst, fists flying. Each punch landed with a force that sent shockwaves through my chest, wheezing coughs erupting from my throat. It dissolved under my assault, leaving me gasping for air but resolute. Two more remained.

With every ounce of strength I had left, I tackled the faceless figure. Straddling it, I pummeled its featureless face, my knuckles splitting and blood mixing with the sweat dripping from my brow. “It’s… alright… I… deserve… it,” I spat through clenched teeth, each word punctuated by another blow. It, too, dissipated, leaving only the serpent.

The serpent hissed venomously, its tongue wrapping around me, squeezing the air from my lungs as its fangs loomed close. I thrashed and struggled, my movements growing weaker. The door from earlier reappeared, and the shadowy figure behind it demanded a blood offering, its voice filled with violent desperation. The hourglass was nearly empty.

Desperation surged within me as my hand brushed against something heavy in my pocket—the clock. There had to be a reason I had it. Summoning the last of my strength, I jammed the clock into the serpent’s fangs. The moment it made contact, the clock emitted a blinding orange light, freezing the creature in place. I fell to the ground, coughing and retching, my body trembling violently. The serpent dissolved into nothingness, taking the spirits with it while it desperately wished to spread more lies.

As the chaos subsided, my companions stood motionless, staring at something. Dread prickled my skin as I turned my head. There she was—the broken-mirror-girl. Her fragmented reflection stared at me with haunting intensity.

“You’re not done yet,” she whispered, her voice echoing like a mournful wind. Then, the labyrinth shattered around us, collapsing into millions of glimmering shards.