The gray light was timidly seeping through the decaying cracks in the ceiling, as if it feared awakening something forgotten here long ago.
The room was narrow, without a window, and the only scent was that of mold and iron. The walls were made of black stones etched with symbols that resembled no language, but were closer to screams carved into rock.
And on the floor… there was a body.
It wasn't dead, nor alive as it should be. It was lying as though it had just emerged from a dream soaked in mud.
He opened his eyes.
The eyes… without pupils.
As if they were polished mirrors to the world, reflecting nothing from within.
He lifted his body with effort, as though the bones remembered a pain that did not belong to them. He looked around. Nothing in the room told him his name. No sign. No memory. Not even an echo.
He wanted to say a word, any word. But only a cold breath escaped his mouth, like the wall of a grave.
Then… he heard the voice.
A sound like the wind, tinged with malice.
"Finally, you've awakened… you who has no shadow."
There was no one.
But the voice wasn't an illusion.
It wasn't just inside his head. It rang in the stones, seeping from the ceiling, crashing to the ground.
"You are a nobody. You have no name. No past. No origin. And no shadow."
He looked at his feet.
Indeed… no shadow.
He approached the wall. The body was clear, but nothing was cast behind it. No reflection. No trace.
"You have been condemned to be forgotten. But you are not entirely lost… yet."
"There is a way."
"But… you will pay the price."
Silence.
The man lifted his head, as if he wanted to ask, "Who are you?" but the question had no voice.
Suddenly, the wall before him cracked slowly, as if the world itself was being forced to open its mouth.
And behind the wall… a long, misty corridor pulsated with a color that had no name.
The man took his first step.
He didn't know who he was, nor where he was going.
But inside him… something was whispering:
"You don't need a name… to start the slaughter."
The corridor pulsated as if it were alive. The ground beneath his feet was neither earthy nor stony, but rather resembled dry flesh, emitting a faint groan with every step he took.
The mist did not leave. It moved with him. It wrapped around him, tightening, then receded just as he was about to suffocate. There was no clear ceiling, only darkness pressing from above, as if the sky had contracted until it almost touched his head.
On the walls, marks began to appear.
Drawings of faceless people, their mouths open in screams, their hands outstretched toward the sky as if drowning in invisible air.
And among them… there was one shadow. But it was not like a human shadow.
It was more like a nail driven into the air, unmoving, unvanishing.
He stopped.
He looked at the drawings, then at his hand.
He slowly raised it.
His hand… it moved. The fingers were there. Everything seemed normal. But nothing was cast onto the ground. No shadow.
Then, he felt something breathing behind him.
He turned.
Emptiness.
But the cold deepened. And the voices returned.
Whispers.
They whispered words he could not understand. But all of them ended with a single word:
"The Knot."
It repeated. Slowly. Then faster. Until it overwhelmed him.
"The Knot, the Knot, the Knot, the Knot…"
He covered his ears, but the sound didn't stop. It grew louder. As if the stones themselves were speaking it, as if the earth was pulsing with it.
Then… the door appeared.
It wasn't an ordinary door.
It was colossal. Its height immeasurable. It seemed to divide the world in two—one half mist, the other pure darkness.
It was bound in chains, each pulsing with a different color: deep blue, burning red, poisonous green, and finally… pale white, like a rotting corpse.
Etched upon it was a single symbol… a circle containing an eye, surrounded by six lines like the limbs of a creature that did not belong to this world.
Then he heard the voice again—but this time, from within.
"If you open the door, nothing will ever be the same."
And within himself, without words, he replied:
"Nothing was ever as it should've been."
He reached out his hand toward the door.
The moment his fingers touched the white chain, the world vanished.
He found himself elsewhere.
A place without dimensions.
Just an empty void—colorless, soundless, timeless.
But he wasn't alone.
There was him… another him.
An identical figure, but with eyes ablaze.
The other spoke:
"You wanted a name? Take it."
And he threw ashes at him.
A searing pain surged through his mind, as if fire had been poured into his skull.
"You wanted a past? Here it is."
And he saw flashes: war. A sword. Fire. A woman's scream. A hand pulled from rubble. A crying child.
"You wanted a shadow? Try carrying it."
Suddenly, a black shadow fell upon him… heavy as a mountain.
He dropped to his knees. But his heart didn't stop.
He raised his head, stared at his other self, and for the first time, spoke in a hoarse voice that scratched from a rusted throat:
"I don't want a name… I want to know why."
The other laughed.
A laugh filled with pity and scorn.
"If you want to know, you must remember. And if you want to remember… you must kill who you once were."
Then the world vanished again.
He opened his eyes.
He was in a barren land.
A white desert stretching into infinity.
But this time, there was a sun.
Strange, elongated—like an eye staring from above, not to warm… but to judge.
Suddenly… he heard a scream.
He turned.
A woman was running toward him.
Her clothes were torn, her face scratched, and her eyes fevered with fear.
Behind her… a beast.
It had no defined shape.
A fleshy mass walking on more than four limbs, its appendages changing with each second. Sometimes claws, sometimes human feet, sometimes jagged featherless wings.
Before the beast could reach her, he lunged forward.
He ran.
He didn't think. He didn't hesitate.
He ran with his body—no plan.
At the moment of impact… there was no weapon in his hand.
But he raised it—and struck.
His hand pierced through the creature's body like a hot knife through butter.
The beast screamed.
Then exploded… into black ash.
He stopped.
The woman had collapsed onto the ground, crying.
He approached her.
She didn't ask who he was. She didn't thank him. She looked at him in fear… and her fear wasn't for the beast that had vanished, but for him.
She said in a trembling voice:
"You… have no shadow…"
And she ran away.
He let her go.
He felt nothing.
But the ground began to tremble.
Not an earthquake.
But as if something beneath him was moving.
And the voice rose from under the sand:
"The first knot… is undone."