Chapter 5: The Scapegoat


“Does the name ring a bell for either of you?” Selene’s gaze shifted sceptically between Caius and Thorne. Caius narrowed his eyes, and I could tell he was racking his brain, searching desperately for anything useful. Thorne, on the other hand, simply furrowed his brow and shook his head. Selene sighed, her frustration palpable. “I think there’s a reason why fragments of memory are being returned to us like this,” she said, her voice tinged with unease. “It’s as though... whoever is orchestrating all of this wants us to uncover the truth in stages. In Caius’ trial, we were introduced to her, but he wasn’t allowed to remember who she was. Then Thorne encountered her, and now I’ve been permitted to recall her name, but nothing more. From the scene in the school hallway, it seems she used to be a classmate.”

Selene fidgeted restlessly, her fingers twisting the fabric of her sleeve. She looked haunted, her eyes darting nervously as though expecting an attack at any moment. I decided against pressing her further—reliving the past in such a nightmarish way was already hard enough. Everyone would need time to heal and come to terms with what had happened. I could only hope that when my turn came, I’d be strong enough to confront the past myself.

Letting out a weary sigh, I turned towards my door, which had swung open without warning. Thorne stepped closer and gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze before addressing Selene. “If that’s how it is, then we’ll just have to keep moving forward. We need to see this through. I need to know who that girl was and what really happened back then.” Everyone murmured their agreement.

Steeling myself, I straightened up, clenching my fists at my sides as I walked towards the door. Selene fell into step beside Caius, her voice quiet but insistent. “How’s your wound, Caius?”

He glanced down briefly before shrugging. “It’s not great, but I’ll manage.”

“And you, Thorne?” she asked, her gaze flicking upwards.

“My arm feels like hell,” he admitted, his voice edged with pain. “But I can’t afford to dwell on it now. We need to focus on getting out of here. What about you? Are you hurt?”

Selene shook her head.

“Good,” Thorne replied with a curt nod before turning to me. “After you, Lirael.”

I took a deep breath and nodded, bracing myself. By now, I should have been used to the jarring sensation of being pulled into these trials, yet I still managed to land unceremoniously on my face. Groaning, I scrambled to my feet, brushing off the sting of embarrassment as I surveyed my surroundings.

The floor beneath me resembled something out of a video game—black tiles outlined in glowing neon green, reminiscent of LED lights. Stretching out ahead of me was a corridor lined with five distinct stations.

“Colour codes?” Selene murmured, echoing the thought that had just crossed my mind.

“I know!” Caius exclaimed, stepping forward with sudden excitement. “The orange one must be mine. I remember the signboard in the labyrinth—it was fiery orange!”

“The green glow of the shield,” Thorne said, his eyes widening with anticipation. “That has to be me.”

Selene furrowed her brow, her expression distant as she searched her memory. “Soft silver...” she muttered under her breath.

I turned towards the last remaining colours, my heart pounding as the pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place.

Here’s a polished version of your paragraph with advanced British grammar, vocabulary, and smoother sentence structures, along with added details for depth and flow:

“Do you think we each have specific colours assigned to us?” I asked, the question directed more to the room than anyone in particular.

“We must do,” Thorne replied, his gaze sweeping thoughtfully over the five stations. “There are five of us and five stations—it can’t just be a coincidence.”

“I’m Midnight Blue,” Nyx announced abruptly, offering no explanation. He caught my uncertain expression and added with a casual shrug, “It just makes sense.”

I nodded in reluctant agreement. Nyx often seemed to possess an uncanny ability to understand the nuances of this twisted game. “That leaves me with pale lavender,” I sighed, exhaling heavily.

“What’s the hold-up, everyone? Let’s get on with it,” I said, moving towards my station. Around me, the others began to follow suit. Caius entered his fiery orange, cell-like chamber first, followed by Selene, then me, Thorne, and finally Nyx.

For a moment, nothing happened. We exchanged confused glances, each of us uncertain about what was supposed to come next.

“Something’s wrong—it’s not the right order!” Selene exclaimed suddenly, scrambling out of her chamber. The rest of us followed her lead, stepping back into the corridor.

“It’s Caius first, then Thorne, me, Lirael, and finally Nyx,” she explained, pointing to each station in turn.

“Oh, right,” I agreed, feeling slightly foolish.

Caius stepped forward without a word, taking his place. Thorne followed, then Selene, who glanced back at me with an encouraging nod.

I let out a resigned sigh and stepped into the pale lavender chamber once more. The moment Nyx entered his Midnight Blue station, something shifted. Streams of glowing colour spilled out from beneath each of our feet, stretching forward in five vibrant lines that illuminated the corridor ahead. At the far end, a door emerged, blending all five colours into its design.

I glanced down at the lavender smoke curling around my ankles, swirling hypnotically before rising to fill the chamber. My breath hitched as I instinctively tried the doorknob, but it was locked. Panic threatened to claw its way through my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm—after all, I was already numb from the day’s unrelenting shocks.

Through the haze, I could see the others engulfed in their respective colours. Nyx stood perfectly still, his dark eyes fixed ahead with a resolve so fierce it unsettled me. It was as if he was daring this invisible force to challenge him further. The intensity in his gaze frightened me more than my own looming sense of doom.

The smoke filled my lungs with a taste reminiscent of an oxygen mask, cold and metallic. I focused on my breathing, trying to steady my racing heart. The door in front of me swung open abruptly, and I stumbled out, gasping as the chill of the corridor hit my sweat-drenched skin.

I found myself on the other side, now clad in a lavender vest. I glanced down in disbelief. “What’s with the special treatment, Lirael?” Selene teased, inspecting her own silver vest.

Everyone was wearing one, though I couldn’t help but notice Nyx’s. His Midnight Blue vest clung to his athletic frame, accentuating his dark hair as it fell over his equally dark eyes. I yanked my gaze away quickly, heat rising to my cheeks.

A sudden chiming broke the tension. Ding... Ding... Diiiing.

The sound distorted into a glitch, sending a shiver down my spine. I snapped my head around, scanning my surroundings.

“Did you feel that glitch?” I asked, my voice tinged with unease.

“No, what are you on about?” Selene replied, her attention fixed straight ahead.

An ominous foreboding crept over me, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end. I shook my head as if to dispel the feeling. In front of us, a race track materialised, its finish line marked with glowing words: Shards of Truth.

The same jolly voice that had previously announced our ‘gifts’ boomed from nowhere. “The race will commence shortly. Players, take your positions and await the rules.”

I noticed the others shifting uncomfortably before stepping up to the starting lines, each at varying intervals. Was this a relay race? Nyx and I jogged to the last two positions, his further away than mine.

On a parallel track, NPCs—non-player characters—appeared, taking their positions.

“The race will favour the swiftest, so run as if your lives depend on it!” the voice chirped with unsettling cheer.

I ignored its tone, focusing instead on the words. “The team that finishes first and places their batons in the box at the finish line will proceed to the next game. Best of luck, everyone!”

Out of thin air, a baton materialised in Caius’ hand—a red stick with white Christmas-themed stripes. He yelped in surprise, almost dropping it.

“On your marks! Get set! Go!”

I clenched my fists, silently willing Caius to run faster. Thorne and Selene shouted words of encouragement, urging him to push past his limits. His eyes darted anxiously between the NPCs and the goal ahead, his movements frantic but determined.

Caius's teeth were bared, and the veins on his neck bulged with the sheer effort he poured into his sprint. Thorne braced himself, his hand outstretched as Caius neared, the baton transferring seamlessly into his grasp. On the parallel track, a boy resembling Thorne was already surging forward, adding to my growing anxiety. My feet shuffled nervously, the tension twisting in my stomach. Failure wasn’t an option—not after everything we’d endured. Caius’s stab wound, Thorne’s broken arm, and Selene’s bloodied nose played on a loop in my mind.

“Go, Thorne!” I screamed, my voice raw and cracking with desperation. Thorne remained composed, his sharp gaze locked on the path ahead. His movements were swift and precise as he overcame obstacles, closing the gap to Selene in record time. Then, like a blur, Selene launched into motion, her blue and purple streaked hair whipping around her face as she sprinted toward me. Her expression carried a mix of Caius’s raw determination and Thorne’s unwavering focus.

I huffed, bouncing on the spot to keep my legs primed. “Alright, let’s do this,” I muttered, steeling myself as she approached. “Lirael, go!” she yelled, thrusting the baton into my hand.

I willed my body into action, but my legs refused to obey. Panic clawed at me as my limbs felt weighed down, each step growing heavier and slower, like I was wading through quicksand. A sinking dread settled in my stomach, and I caught glimpses of their faces—horrified, then disappointed.

“Lirael, why aren’t you running!?” Selene’s voice cracked, her wide eyes locked on me.

“I’m... trying,” I growled through clenched teeth, straining against the invisible force dragging me down. My muscles burned, my heart pounded, and frustration swelled in my chest like a storm ready to break. Nearby, the fourth NPC racer was nearing their final handoff, their momentum highlighting my faltering efforts.

But Nyx’s gaze didn’t follow the NPC. His piercing eyes burned into me, his intensity more unnerving than any obstacle I faced. My legs buckled beneath me, and I crumpled to the ground.

Moments later, the others loomed over me, their expressions cutting deeper than any physical wound.

“Why didn’t you run, Lirael?” Thorne’s voice was heavy with disappointment.

“We lost because of you,” Caius snapped, his tone sharp and accusing.

I opened my mouth to explain, but the words stuck in my throat. Would they even believe me?

“You know, Lirael,” Caius began, his glare sharp enough to wound. “I didn’t want to bring this up, but all of this started because of you. If you hadn’t dragged me to my door, we could’ve found another way out of here.”

My heart sank as the others nodded in silent agreement. “Wha—what are you talking about? I didn’t...” My voice wavered, weak against the weight of their judgment.

“Guys, I swear I didn’t mean for us to lose! I—”

“Liar,” Selene spat, cutting me off. “You’re secretly favored by this system, aren’t you? I’ve suspected it from the start with all the special treatment you’ve been getting.”

“No! They’re trying to trick us—please, you have to believe me!” My protests were frantic, but the doubt in their eyes crushed me.

“Believe you?” Nyx’s voice was ice-cold, and his next words pierced through me like a dagger. “Is that how you got out of the police’s grip after deleting Elliot’s texts?”

The accusation left me breathless, the ground beneath me tilting as I stared at him, stunned into silence.

He laughed bitterly, and beneath me, words materialized in stark white:

“You forgot me. But I haven’t forgotten you.

Face the past, or it will consume you.

—Your Secret Santa.”

Elliot had been the Secret Santa all along...? A memory flashed vividly in my mind. We were walking through a park dense with trees, almost like a small forest, after school. It wasn’t our usual route, but that day I had been fuming—furious at my pathetic life and even more at myself for not knowing how to change anything. I had been ranting endlessly, oblivious to my surroundings, until I noticed Elliot had stopped walking.

“What?” I asked, frowning. She stood frozen, her grey eyes wide with horror, fixed on something ahead. Following her gaze, I saw it—a large green snake coiled on a branch, flicking its tongue as its beady eyes locked on her.

I screamed, bolting instinctively. But just as I started running, a pang of guilt hit me. What if the snake went after her instead? “El?” I called, whipping my head around. She was nowhere in sight. Panic coursed through me, my skin prickling as goosebumps rose on my arms. “El, where did you go!?”

“I’m here...” Her voice was so soft I barely heard it. Relief washed over me when I spotted her crouched behind a tree near the snake’s perch. “I’m sorry about that,” I muttered sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’m just really scared of animals.”

“It’s alright. I’m fine,” she said, peeking cautiously to make sure the snake was gone before standing up and dusting herself off. I ruffled her hair awkwardly. “Let’s go.”

I didn’t realize the damage had already been done.

The next day, I found myself at the hospital reception desk, tears streaming down my face. “Elliot Larkspur?” My voice trembled as I spoke.

The receptionist typed into her computer and said, “Room 379.”

Without hesitation, I burst through the door, startling the nurses and her family. “El!” I cried, rushing to her side. My gaze darted around the room, searching for answers.

“What... what happened to her?” I stammered.

“Snake bite,” her father replied, his eyes narrowing as he stepped toward me. “Didn’t you walk home with her yesterday, Lirael? She collapsed five minutes after you left her.”

His words hit me like a freight train. My throat dried up as guilt twisted in my gut. I struggled to meet his piercing gaze. “I... I must’ve gone somewhere when it happened,” I mumbled, thankful that my shaky voice could pass as exhaustion from running.

“Somewhere? Where, Lirael?” he pressed, taking another step closer.

My heart pounded so loudly I thought it would burst. “I gotta go,” I blurted, desperate to escape.

“I thought you came to see her, Lirael,” he said, folding his arms.

“Hey, stop it,” her mother snapped, her red, puffy eyes glistening with fresh tears. “She’s just a child. Maybe something went wrong,” she sighed, her voice heavy with grief.

Taking advantage of the moment, I slipped out of the room and ran. My family couldn’t afford any trouble, not even a whisper of it. As the eldest in an immigrant household, I bore the weight of their expectations. I couldn’t let them down—not for this, not for anything.

Later, Elliot texted me, asking to meet, but I ignored her. At school, I avoided her in the hallways, in lessons—everywhere. I couldn’t face her. What if she confronted me? Worse, what if I had to explain myself?

After a week, she stopped trying. But then, one day, a single text arrived. It rattled me to my core.

“I know it’s not your fault, Liri, but I wish you were there for me today.”

I left her on unseen, pressing Mark as unread to ease my guilt.

I can’t take accountability. I can’t get involved. It’s not safe. I didn’t do anything wrong.

But that text haunted me every day after. I would stare at it, letting guilt gnaw at me like a rat nibbling on cheese. And before I knew it, she was gone. Dead. And I was the one to blame.

A whooshing noise yanked me from my memories and back to the present. My gaze fell on a broken shard of glass, where my reflection stared back at me—haunted eyes, a face drained of color, and lips as pale as the glass itself. An inexplicable urge to touch the reflection overtook me, and my fingers drifted forward. As soon as I made contact, the image shifted, revealing my tear-streaked five-year-old self. “You have rights just like everyone else. You’re a human just like anyone else,” she whispered. My eyes softened at her words.

Ahead, two boys caught my attention, playing with a delicate, expensive-looking vase. The shorter one held it while the taller boy tossed plastic flowers into it, their laughter filling the air. But the joy shattered along with the vase when the shorter boy tripped, sending it tumbling to the floor in a cascade of soft pink shards. “Oh no!” the taller boy exclaimed, his eyes darting around to ensure no one had seen. The shorter boy looked on the verge of tears.

“What should we do?” the taller boy knelt, panic seeping into his voice. The shorter boy hesitated, and in that moment, the taller one cut himself on the jagged glass. He hissed, drawing back with a sharp cry. The shorter boy froze, his gaze flicking between his friend and the empty hallway, as if expecting someone to appear. And someone did. A girl, perhaps their older sister, emerged.

“What’s this?” she gasped, clapping a hand over her mouth. “Mum’s going to kill you both! That was her favorite piece!” She knelt to inspect the taller boy’s cut, pulling him to his feet. Moments later, they returned with their mother.

“Explain yourselves!” the mother demanded.

“Tavian let go of the vase!” the taller boy accused, pointing at the shorter boy still huddled on the floor.

“No!” I intervened, standing abruptly, the glass shard of my younger self still clutched in my hand. Their eyes turned to me. “It was an accident. He didn’t mean to,” I protested, glaring at the taller boy, who shrank behind his mother.

The mother’s face softened. “I see,” she said calmly. And then, like smoke, they dissolved into the ground.

A shaky breath escaped me. Part of the trial, I realized. But it wasn’t over. Elliot’s tormentors appeared next, their smug grins igniting a fire in me. I straightened my spine, meeting their gazes.

“Well, if it isn’t the backstabber,” Seraphine sneered, her face adorned with so many piercings it could take days to count.

“Backstabber? Who, me?” I tilted my head, rage simmering beneath my calm façade.

She laughed, and Avarith, their leader, stepped forward, her blue hair reminiscent of cotton candy I once shared with Elliot. The thought of Elliot fueled the fury curling in my stomach.

“You’re the reason she died, you know. Because you left her to suffer alone,” Avarith taunted.

I swallowed hard, refusing to let her words break me. Nearby, a glass shard materialized, falling into my open palm.

“Don’t listen to them,” it whispered.

More shards appeared, surrounding me. Each whispered something different: “Liri, you’ll always be my best friend.” “You’re one of a kind.” “Don’t let them corrupt you.” “You can change this fate.”

Tears welled in my eyes as the weight of their words broke through the walls I’d built. I chuckled softly, wiping my eyes. “You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that to me for someone who should be in jail,” I said, locking eyes with Avarith.

She scoffed. “Shall we see about that?”

With a wave of her hand, the shards shattered into dust. But my Secret Santa’s gift began to glow, and as I pulled it from my vest, the dust reassembled into my broken mirror.

“No!” Avarith shrieked, lunging to stop it.

The mirror revealed my reflection—guilt, regret, joy, and admiration for a sketch Elliot had once made. Defeated, Avarith and her group morphed into a monstrous shadow.

“Predictable,” I muttered as it charged at me. Darkness engulfed my vision, choking me.

“You talk a lot for a coward who can’t take responsibility,” I spat, clawing at the suffocating void.

The darkness seeped into my lungs, drowning my thoughts. “Stop…please…” I gasped.

“That’s what Elliot said before she passed out,” Avarith cackled from the void.

Rage surged through me. I spotted the fully formed mirror and reached for it with every ounce of strength I had left. “I WON’T LET YOU WIN!” I screamed, angling the mirror to reflect the light.

The shadow shrieked as the light consumed it, cracks spreading across the mirror. The pressure grew until the darkness was sucked away, leaving me coughing and tasting blood.

Hollow-eyed figures—Thorne, Selene, Nyx, Caius, Avarith, and others—appeared. They stared silently, offering neither help nor scorn.

I rose shakily, drawing a deep breath. “You spent so much time breaking me that you never stopped to see what you’ve shattered. Not just me, but yourselves. Every time you pointed a finger or stayed silent, you handed me a piece of your guilt. And I carried it all—your fear, shame, anger—because none of you were brave enough to face it. But I’m not your shield. I’m not your excuse. And I’m not your sacrifice. I’ve walked through the fire you lit under me, and I’ve come out unburned. You wanted me to be the cracks in your reflection, but I’m the one holding the mirror now. And this time, you’ll see yourselves for who you really are.”

I turned to the shattered mirror, kneeling to piece it together. As the last shard fit into place, light burst through the cracks. Elliot appeared, glowing softly in the corner.

“I’m s-so…so-rry,” I choked, tears spilling freely.

She smiled, shaking her head. “I’m very proud of you, Liri,” she said, her voice a dreamlike melody.

And then I was falling—deeper and deeper into nothingness.