Hhhh... hhhh...
The golden door opened before we touched it.
Like it was welcoming us.
Like it had been waiting.
Beyond it... light. Pure, brilliant light. The kind that makes you want to shield your eyes but also draws you in like a moth to a flame.
"Well," I said, and I was still giggling a little because the Truth-Seer's effects wouldn't wear off. "This is either going to be really cool or we're about to die horribly."
"Your optimism is inspiring," Somi said dryly.
"I'm not optimistic. I'm realistic. And realistically, we're walking into the lair of a crazy theater ghost who controls puppets with invisible strings."
And you're walking in anyway, the truth-voice whispered in my head. Because you're too stubborn to give up. Too stupid to run. Too attached to these people to abandon them.
"Shut up, voice."
"Is he still talking to himself?" Gery asked.
"Yep," Lucy confirmed.
We stepped through the door.
Okay, so "throne room" doesn't do it justice.
It was a stage.
The BIGGEST stage I'd ever seen.
We're talking massive. Like concert-hall massive. Opera-house massive.
The floor was polished black marble that reflected everything like a dark mirror. Red velvet curtains hung from invisible heights, swaying slightly even though there was no wind. Golden lights illuminated the space from everywhere and nowhere at once.
And at the center...
A throne.
Not a regular throne. This was pure theater.
It looked like it was made from frozen music. Silver and gold twisted together in spirals, forming the shape of a chair. Musical notes carved into the armrests. Masks embedded in the backrest—hundreds of tiny masks, all different expressions.
And sitting on that throne...
Her.
Hhhh... hhhh... hhhh...
She was beautiful.
Not in a normal way. In a wrong way. In a "this is what beauty looks like when it's been twisted and corrupted" way.
She looked young—maybe mid-twenties—but her eyes were ancient. Old. Like she'd been performing for centuries.
Long silver hair that moved on its own, flowing and curling as if underwater. Pale skin, almost translucent, with faint patterns of strings visible beneath the surface—like her whole body was made of marionette parts barely holding together.
She wore a dress that was half wedding gown, half funeral shroud. White silk stained with red at the edges. The fabric moved constantly, rippling and shifting, never quite staying in one shape.
But the worst part?
The strings.
Thousands of them. Silver. Invisible unless you looked directly at them. They extended from her fingers, her wrists, her shoulders, disappearing into the darkness above.
But these weren't strings controlling her.
These were strings she controlled.
Waiting.
Hungry.
On her head sat a crown made of broken masks—fragments of every role she'd ever played, pieced together into something beautiful and horrifying.
And she was smiling.
Not a happy smile. A performer's smile. The kind you give the audience even when you're dying inside.
"Welcome," she said.
Her voice was different than before. Not distant. Not echoing.
Close. Intimate. Like she was whispering directly into our ears.
"Welcome, my dear challengers. My worthy opponents. My guests of honor."
She stood.
The strings moved with her. Thousands of them. All attached to her. All waiting to attach to us.
"I am Seraphina Valdis. Once, I was called the Prima Donna of the Eternal Theater. Now..."
She laughed. It sounded like breaking glass.
"Now I am simply the Forsaken. The Abandoned. The Last Performer on an empty stage."
She descended from her throne. Each step echoed like a drumbeat.
"You've done so well. All three acts. Perfect performances. I watched every moment. Recorded every struggle. Savored every triumph."
She's lonely, the truth-voice said in my head.
And I saw it.
Behind the smile. Behind the beauty. Behind the power.
She was desperately, achingly lonely.
"Sidd?" Lucy whispered. "You seeing this?"
"Yeah," I muttered. "I'm seeing all of it."
The mask's lingering effects were showing me things I shouldn't be able to see.
The cracks in Seraphina's perfect facade.
The way her smile faltered for a split second when she looked at us—four people together, supporting each other.
The way her strings trembled slightly, like they were afraid of something.
The way her eyes held not just malice, but...
Hope?
No. Not hope. Longing.
She wanted to lose.
Or rather—she wanted someone strong enough to beat her. To free her.
But she couldn't just let us win. That would break the rules. The curse. Whatever bound her to this place.
We had to actually defeat her.
"You're staring again," Seraphina said, looking directly at me. "The Truth-Seer's mark. I can see it in your eyes. You see through performances now. You see what's real beneath the masks."
"Yeah," I said, and I started laughing again. Couldn't help it. "And you know what's funny? You're performing too. This whole 'evil Queen' thing. This whole 'eternal villain' act. It's just another role, isn't it?"
Her smile froze.
"You don't want to be here," I continued, still giggling manically. "You don't want to trap people. You don't want to control puppets. You're just... stuck. Playing the same role. Over and over. Forever."
"Sidd," Somi hissed. "What are you doing?"
"He's telling the truth," Seraphina said quietly. "The curse of the Truth-Seer. He cannot help but speak what he sees."
She walked closer. Her strings followed.
"You're right, of course. I didn't choose this. I was chosen. Cursed. Bound to this stage for a crime I committed long ago."
"What crime?" Lucy asked.
Seraphina's smile turned sad.
"I abandoned my role. I walked off stage mid-performance. I broke the sacred contract between performer and audience."
She gestured around the empty theater.
"And for that sin, I was condemned. To perform forever. Alone. On an eternal stage. With an audience that never comes."
"The previous challengers," Gery realized. "You turned them into your audience. Your choir. Your puppets."
"I had to," Seraphina said. "The curse demands a performance. If there's no audience, there's no play. If there's no play, I cease to exist. So I make my own audience. From those who enter my domain."
She stopped a few feet away from us.
"But they're not real. They don't judge. They don't critique. They don't truly watch. They're just... there. Empty. Performing because I make them."
Her strings began to move. Slowly. Deliberately.
"But you four... you're different. You fought. You resisted. You kept yourselves. You gave me a real performance. The best I've seen in centuries."
"So let us go," Lucy said.
Seraphina laughed again. That broken-glass sound.
"I can't. The curse won't allow it. If you want to leave, you must defeat me. You must cut all my strings. You must end my performance."
She raised her hands.
The thousands of strings rose with them.
"So fight me. Entertain me one last time. Give me a finale worthy of remembrance."
"And if we win?" Somi asked.
"Then you go free. And I..."
Seraphina's smile became genuine for a moment. Just a moment.
"I finally rest."
The strings attacked.
Not slowly. Not dramatically.
Fast. Vicious. Like silver serpents.
We scattered.
"Don't let them touch you!" Gery yelled, swinging his Tier 6 sword. It cut through some strings—the normal ones. But others bounced off the blade like they were made of steel.
"Some of them are enchanted!" Somi shouted. "Kinetic force isn't working on all of them!"
Lucy was dodging, barely. Her hope essence flaring, creating small barriers of light.
I pulled out my fear dagger.
And immediately I saw it.
This won't work, the truth-voice said. She's not afraid. She's beyond fear. She's accepted her fate.
"FUCK!"
But then I saw something else.
The strings connected to her weren't just tools. They were drains. Every string she controlled took something from her. Energy. Life. Essence.
She was exhausting herself to control them all.
That's her weakness. She can't maintain this forever.
"Guys!" I yelled. "Make her use more strings! Tire her out!"
"How?!" Lucy screamed, barely dodging a string that tried to wrap around her ankle.
"Split up! Make her divide her attention!"
We scattered in four directions.
Seraphina smiled. "Clever."
More strings appeared. Now she was controlling four separate groups. One for each of us.
And I could see it. The strain. The way her fingers trembled. The way her breath quickened.
But she was still too strong.
The strings were everywhere. Trying to wrap around our limbs. Our necks. Our bodies.
If even one connected, we'd become puppets.
Gery's sword was cutting dozens at a time, but more appeared.
Somi was using kinetic force to push them away, but they kept coming.
Lucy's light barriers were breaking under the pressure.
And me?
I was dodging. Barely.
This isn't working, I thought.
You need to cut the source, the truth-voice replied. Not the strings. Her.
"What?"
She's the anchor. The strings come from her. If you can disrupt her control—even for a moment—the strings will falter.
"And how do I do that?!"
You already know. You're the Truth-Seer. You see through performances. So force her to drop the act.
I stopped running.
The strings came at me.
"Sidd!" Lucy screamed. "What are you doing?!"
"SERAPHINA!" I yelled.
The strings stopped. Just inches from my skin.
Seraphina looked at me.
"What was the performance?" I asked.
"What?"
"The one you abandoned. The one that got you cursed. What was it?"
Her face changed. The performer's smile cracked.
"That's... irrelevant."
"NO IT'S NOT!" I was laughing again. Manic. Crazy. "You're still performing it! Right now! This whole thing! You're still playing the role!"
"Be quiet."
"What was it? A tragedy? A romance? What role did you abandon?"
"I SAID BE QUIET!"
The strings lashed out.
But they were wild now. Uncontrolled.
Because I'd hit something.
"You were the lead, weren't it?" I continued, dodging. "The Prima Donna. The star. And you walked off stage. But why? Why would the best performer abandon her greatest role?"
Seraphina's hands were shaking.
"Because someone in the audience was MORE IMPORTANT!" I screamed. "Someone you loved! Someone who was dying! Someone who needed you MORE than the play did!"
She froze.
All the strings stopped moving.
"You left the stage to save someone," I said quietly. "And the curse punished you for it. For choosing love over art. For choosing reality over performance."
Tears.
Actual tears rolling down Seraphina's face.
"His name was Marcus," she whispered. "He was my husband. He came to watch me perform every night. Front row. Always smiling."
"What happened?" Lucy asked gently.
"He collapsed. During Act III. Heart attack. And I heard him fall. Heard the audience gasp. Heard the medics rush in."
Her voice broke.
"I had a choice. Finish the performance. Or go to him."
"You chose him," Somi said.
"I chose him. I ran off stage. Mid-song. I held his hand as he died. I was there with him at the end."
She looked up at us.
"And the Theater cursed me. For breaking the sacred rule. The show must go on. Always. No matter what."
"That's bullshit," I said.
She blinked.
"THAT'S BULLSHIT!" I yelled. "You made the RIGHT choice! You chose your husband over a fucking play! That's not a sin! That's being HUMAN!"
"The curse doesn't care about being human," Seraphina said sadly. "The curse only cares about the performance."
"Then fuck the curse," Gery said, stepping forward.
"Fuck the performance," Somi added.
"Fuck the show," Lucy finished.
We stood together. Facing her.
"You chose love," I said. "That's not a crime. That's the most human thing you could have done."
"But the curse—"
"We'll break it," I said. "That's what we're here for, right? To end your performance. To free you."
Seraphina stared at us.
Then she laughed.
A real laugh this time. Not broken glass. Just... human.
"You're all insane."
"Yeah," I agreed. "The Truth-Seer mask fucked me up. I'm probably going to need therapy after this."
She smiled. A genuine smile.
"Then let's finish this properly. One final act. Not as captor and prisoners. But as performers giving their all."
The strings rose again.
But this time, there was something different in her eyes.
Not malice.
Gratitude.
"Show me your best," she said. "Help me end this. Help me rest."
The battle resumed.
But it was different now.
Not a fight to the death.
A collaboration.
Seraphina attacked with everything she had. Full power. No holding back.
And we fought back with everything we had.
Gery's sword blazing with white light.
Somi's kinetic force creating shockwaves.
Lucy's hope essence forming shields and weapons.
And me?
I was seeing the truth of every movement. Every string. Every attack.
Dodging by instinct. Moving before I consciously knew where to move.
The Truth-Seer's gift and curse working together.
We danced.
That's what it was. A dance.
Seraphina controlling thousands of strings, moving them in perfect patterns.
Us dodging, cutting, deflecting, surviving.
The stage beneath us cracked. The curtains tore. The lights shattered.
But we kept going.
Because this was the finale.
The last performance.
And it had to be perfect.
"NOW!" Somi yelled.
We'd coordinated. Silently. Through looks and nods.
All four of us attacked at once.
Gery's sword cut through the main strings attached to her right hand.
Somi's kinetic blast severed the ones on her left.
Lucy's light burned through the strings on her shoulders.
And I—using the fear dagger not as a weapon but as a tool—cut the final string.
The one attached to her heart.
The anchor string.
The one that bound her to the curse.
Seraphina gasped.
All the strings fell.
Thousands of them. Collapsing to the ground like silver rain.
She fell too.
We caught her.
Gently. Carefully.
She looked up at us, smiling.
"Thank you," she whispered.
The curse was breaking. We could see it. Cracks forming in the theater itself. The Eternal Stage collapsing.
"You're free now," Lucy said.
"I am." Seraphina's body was fading. Becoming transparent. "I can finally rest. Finally see him again."
"Marcus?" I asked.
"Yes." She looked at me. "Thank you, Truth-Seer. For seeing what others couldn't."
"Yeah, well. The mask fucked up my brain. But I guess it helped."
She laughed one last time.
"Tell me," I said quietly. "The performance you abandoned. What was it called?"
Seraphina smiled.
"The Eternal Love. A tragedy about a woman who chose her heart over her art."
"Ironic," Somi muttered.
"Art imitating life," Seraphina agreed. "Or life imitating art. I never knew which."
She was almost completely transparent now.
"Go," she said. "The door will appear. It leads home. Back to your world. Back to your lives."
"What about all the others?" Gery asked. "The people you turned into your audience?"
"They're already free. Released the moment the curse broke. They'll wake up in their own worlds, thinking it was all a dream."
A door appeared. Normal. Wooden. Simple.
So different from all the ornate theatrical doors we'd seen before.
"Go," Seraphina urged. "Before the stage collapses completely."
"Wait," Lucy said. "What happens to you?"
Seraphina's smile was peaceful.
"I go to him. To Marcus. To the audience that matters most."
She disappeared completely.
Just faded away like mist.
Leaving behind only a single silver string.
And a whisper:
"Thank you for the final performance. It was perfect."
The stage was collapsing fast now.
The floor cracking. The ceiling falling.
"RUN!" Gery yelled.
We ran for the door.
But when we got through it, we weren't in some exit hallway.
We were back in the foyer. The red carpet. The golden decorations.
Except now everything was falling apart. The theater itself dying along with its Queen.
"The exit!" Lucy pointed.
The main doors - the ones we'd entered through - were wide open. Showing darkness beyond.
We ran through them.
And found ourselves in a white room.
Completely white. Empty.
Just the four of us and...
Red essence.
Floating in the center of the room. Four orbs of it. One for each of us.
The same robotic voice from before echoed:
[TRIAL COMPLETE] [THE ETERNAL STAGE - CLEARED] [REWARD: RED ESSENCE x4] [RETURN TO SANCTUS MORTIS IN: 10 SECONDS]
"Wait, what?" I said, still giggling from the Truth-Seer effects. "We're going back? To that death game place?"
[9 SECONDS]
"The red essence!" Somi realized. "Grab them! They're our tickets back!"
We each grabbed an orb.
The moment I touched mine, information flooded my mind.
Red Essence - Return Item. Allows transport back to Sanctus Mortis central zone. One-time use. Cannot be traded or stolen.
[5 SECONDS]
"So we're not going home," Lucy said quietly. "We're going back to the game."
"We survived this trial," Gery said. "But the game continues."
[3 SECONDS]
I looked at the red essence in my hand. It was warm. Pulsing like a heartbeat.
We beat the Queen, I thought. But Sanctus Mortis has more trials. More zones. More death.
[1 SECOND]
"Together?" Lucy asked.
"Together," we all answered.
The red essence activated.