Samuel led the way.
Their footsteps echoed against the cold, damp stone of the Hollow Prison—familiar now, but still unsettling. The walls whispered the same haunting sounds, the flickering lights cast the same eerie shadows, yet something had changed.
This time… there was no fear in their steps.
Only bravery.
Only purpose.
Each stride carried with it a new kind of strength.
Samuel felt it in his chest—his resolve hardening. Every time he took a step forward, it was as if he was shedding pieces of the person he used to be. He had no idea when it happened, but the weight of leadership no longer crushed him. He embraced it.
Victor, walking beside him, was… different.
Not in his usual, mocking, mysterious way. But calm. Controlled. Even polite.
It was unsettling.
Owen noticed it too—he walked slightly behind, watching the two of them. There was a strange look in his eyes, like he was inspired. Motivated. The fear he once had in his voice was fading—Samuel's quiet growth, Ava's powerful speech, and Victor's sudden calm had stirred something in him. For the first time, Owen wasn't doubting himself. He wanted to help.
And then there was Ava.
She had the eyes of someone who had been shattered and stitched herself back together.The pain of Elliot's death was still there—etched into every line of her face—but she was moving forward with it, not away from it.
She had grown, and it showed in her walk, in her silence, in the way she held her head up despite the weight behind her eyes.
This team… this group...
It felt like the best version of what it could be.
But.
There was a problem.
Samuel kept glancing at Victor from the corner of his eye.
At first, it was just instinct—he was used to watching him, making sure he wasn't up to something. But now that everything had calmed down, now that Samuel could think clearly… something started to feel off again.
Victor was too calm.
Too polite.
Samuel's thoughts spiraled quietly.
"Victor is suddenly… somehow acting normal…"
"Did Noa's death change him that much?"
"Or is he just pretending to be something he's not?"
That doubt… that tight, gnawing gut feeling wouldn't go away.
Victor must've noticed.
He tilted his head slightly, his voice smooth—almost gentle.
"Is there something wrong, Samuel?"
That tone.
That polite tone.
It made Samuel's spine tighten.
That wasn't the Victor he knew.
The Victor he knew would've teased, mocked, grinned like a devil just to get under his skin.
This? This version was worse. Unpredictable. Controlled.
Samuel shook his head. "Nothing…"
A beat passed.
"…Really. Nothing."
Victor smiled, just faintly, before looking ahead again.
But Samuel's eyes lingered just a little longer this time.
And for the first time during this descent… he didn't know who he was really walking beside.
Samuel's thoughts spiraled again.
But this time…
they were quieter.
Calmer.
More focused.
His mind wasn't racing from fear or panic—no, this was something worse. This was clarity.
"The Echo…"
He remembered it vividly—being pulled into that nightmare, forced to relive another person's final breath, the agony, the terror, the helplessness. Everyone had been shaken. Changed.
But Victor?
Victor walked out of it unbothered. Not even a flicker of discomfort.
"We've felt what it's like to die... in the most brutal, horrific way imaginable…"
Samuel glanced to his side again, catching Victor's profile under the flickering prison light. Calm. Composed. Too clean.
"But he didn't flinch. Not for the person in the Echo. Not even for Ava's story... Elliot's death didn't even faze him."
And yet—
"Noa dies… and that makes him change?"
"That makes him act... human?"
Samuel's heart started to beat faster.
A revelation crept in, slow and suffocating.
His eyes lowered slightly, expression unreadable—but inside, realization struck like a slow-moving avalanche.
"Victor… changed too much."
There was a pause. A long, dreadful pause.
His steps slowed for half a second—no one noticed.
His eyes half-lidded, his breath shallow.
And then, it clicked.
"He is...acting?"
His entire body tensed just enough to be noticed if someone looked close. The atmosphere around him changed.
It wasn't panic.
It was that cold chill you get when your instincts are trying to warn you of something your heart doesn't want to accept.
Victor… was pretending.
Pretending to be something.
Pretending to feel something.
Pretending to change.
Samuel swallowed hard. His throat was dry.
The air in the prison felt heavier now. Not because of the place…
…but because of the man walking silently beside him.
But why?
Samuel's thoughts hit a wall.
There was no answer.
No logic he could grasp.
Just a gnawing sense that something was wrong.
He didn't know what Victor was hiding.
Or why he was pretending.
But he knew this much:
"Now's not the time."
They had a mission—one that could cost them their lives if they got distracted. And whatever was going on with Victor… it could wait. For now.
"Making him an enemy now… would be suicide."
Victor was too smart.
Too calculated.
Too unpredictable.
"Better to keep him close."
"Better to use him while we still can."
That was the strategy forming in Samuel's head, cold and tactical.
Just as the silence stretched on, Owen's voice cut through it like a sudden gust of wind.
"Hey, I think we're close."
The echo of his voice bounced off the stone walls. Samuel blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts.
Ava stepped forward, scanning the corridor ahead.
"Yeah… you're right."
Victor joined them, a familiar tone of confidence in his voice.
"Just a few more turns. Then we reach the cell block."
His footsteps didn't falter. Neither did his expression.
"I don't think the key would be in the dummy block," he added, referring to the nightmarish trap they'd barely survived.
Owen nodded.
"Yeah, same. That was meant to mess with us."
"The real key has to be in the actual cell," he continued. "The one which we go through to find the exit."
Victor and Ava both nodded in unison, focused.
Then Victor turned his head slightly.
That unsettlingly calm smile on his face.
"Right, Samuel?"
For a second, Samuel didn't answer.
His gaze lingered on Victor's face, longer than it should've.
Studying.
Judging.
Deciding.
And then—
"Yeah…" A short pause. "That makes… sense."
He said it flatly, masking the unease beneath.
But inside?
Samuel was sharpening his instincts like a blade.
Because if Victor was acting…Then Samuel would be ready when the curtain finally dropped.
And when it did?
He'd be the one watching.
They kept walking.
There was no hesitation now.
No confusion.
No fear of where they were headed.
Time slipped by like a whisper in the dark, the only sound echoing through the Hallow Prison being their synchronized footsteps. For once, they weren't aimless wanderers. They had a purpose. A destination.
And now—they had arrived.
The corridor ahead opened into a wide, dimly lit block…
The cellblock.
Samuel's eyes flicked upward. The ceiling felt lower here.
The air was thicker.
Familiar.
"This is it."
This was where the nightmare had started.
Where they were first introduced to the twisted rules of this realm.
Where the skeleton still lay silently in that far-off cell…
A grim reminder that this place never lets go of its dead.
Victor glanced around slowly, his eyes scanning every crack in the walls, every rust pattern on the bar of the cell, every inch of stone that bled memory.
Then he spoke.
"Wait…"
A beat.
"This already seems like the prison we're supposed to be in."
Owen's head perked up, his tone surprisingly light.
"Yup, you're right!"
There was a hint of hope in his voice. A rare thing in this place.
They wouldn't have to search through endless halls again.
They were already here.
Already where they needed to be.
All that was left was to find the key——and leave.
Before the Warden showed its face again.
Ava stepped forward, her eyes narrowed with focus.
"Let's not waste any more time," she said, voice sharp. "Let's get to searching and not keep the others waiting."
Samuel nodded.
The others followed.
"Yeah… you're right," he replied.
And with that, they entered the cellblock— one by one— passing by the bars, passing by the place where fear had once frozen them, and into the heart of their past.
But this time, they were different.
This time, they were ready.
They began their search— hands brushing across the old stone, eyes peeling the room apart piece by piece— for the key that could finally end their prison sentence in this cursed realm.