Far Beyond the Abyss

Ethan snapped out of his apathy with a sudden flash of determination. He knew he couldn't keep hiding behind despair. If he wanted to free everyone—and himself—from this endless cycle, he had to act.

He had thought endlessly about his options, and a ridiculous idea had come to mind: imitate the Sorcerer. It was the only thing he hadn't tried yet, and as insane as it seemed, it made sense. Every time he tried to interact with the Sorcerer directly, the loop reset. But maybe, if he repeated exactly what the lunatic said to the rat at the beginning, something would change.

Ethan took a deep breath. Please, let this work, he thought. He knew he couldn't afford to fail again.

The world darkened once more—the signal that the loop was about to restart. And then, there he was, back at the entrance of the village.

The Sorcerer opened his mouth to begin his usual greeting, but Ethan acted first. He rushed forward, stopping in front of the white-furred rat. Forcing a smile, trying not to tremble, he spoke in the most theatrical voice he could muster:

— Hello, good afternoon, my fine mammalian sir! We're a bit lost. Could you help us?

For a moment, silence reigned. A moment that stretched into eternity. The rat stared directly at Ethan, its initially blank expression twisting into something grotesque. It smiled—a distorted, unnatural grin.

Then, before Ethan's eyes, the rat's form began to shift. Its head stretched, growing at impossible angles, until a mask emerged on its face. A mask that was incongruent yet unmistakable: the Sorcerer's mask.

Ethan felt ice crawl up his spine. He turned to look at the original Sorcerer, but the lunatic was still there, watching with that same unshaken grin.

— Finally, Ethan, the Sorcerer said, his voice carrying an almost paternal tone. You were quicker than I expected. Honestly, I thought we were all going to die here. Hahaha!

The mask on the rat laughed along with him, mirroring the Sorcerer's laughter in a way that was deeply unsettling.

— You just made a request, kid, the Sorcerer continued, perfectly imitating Ethan's voice: 'Could you help us?' He paused, then finished, That's exactly what I'm going to do.

Ethan was frozen, still trying to process what was happening. But the Sorcerer didn't stop.

— You have three minutes, Ethan. Just three minutes. Go to the well in the center of the village, dive in, and swim to the bottom. Down there… he hesitated, his tone gaining an unusual gravity, wake up the abomination that trapped us in this cruel and corrupted dream.

Shock took hold of Ethan. What? Me? He had expected the Sorcerer to fix everything with some extravagant, instant trick.

— Don't look at me like that, kid! the Sorcerer scolded, wagging a finger. Even bending the rules now, I have limits. The best I can do is freeze the loop for three minutes.

Before Ethan could respond, the Sorcerer turned to the little girl on Korrak's shoulder and spoke:

— Ah, you. Yes, you. Can you help our friend here? It should be within your abilities.

Ethan looked at the girl, confused. She nodded without hesitation, a strange light in her eyes.

The Sorcerer clapped his hands as if everything was settled. — Perfect! Our chances just went up. Now, go! You only have two minutes and twenty-three seconds left!

Ethan was still in shock, but the urgency in the Sorcerer's voice pushed him to move. He glanced at his companions, frozen in time like statues. Seryne's gaze seemed to meet his, even in her stillness, as if silently trusting him.

— I promise I'll free you from this endless prison, Ethan murmured to himself.

He sprinted toward the well at the center of the village, the little girl already ahead, waiting for him. She stood beside the well, her finger pointing at the water.

Ethan peered down. The well's water was unnatural—a perfect mirror reflecting the starry sky above. It seemed alive, pulsing between the threshold of overflowing and remaining still.

He took a deep breath, summoning his courage. With one last glance at the little girl, who simply watched in silence, Ethan dove in.

The well's water chilled Ethan to the bone as he swam, the reflection of the starry sky above vanishing quickly into the darkness. Every movement felt heavier, as if time itself was pressing down on him, trying to stop him. The bottom felt like a distant promise—something he might never reach.

His hands began to wrinkle, his skin aging as if decades had passed in mere seconds. He tried to ignore the sensation, but it was impossible not to notice the crushing weight of time on his body. His muscles ached, his lungs burned, and his mind wavered between pushing forward and giving up.

Then, something moved beside him—a blur of white against the liquid darkness. The little girl was there, motionless, sinking like a stone toward the bottom. Ethan watched in disbelief as she remained unchanged, untouched by the passage of time that was consuming him. Her empty, serene gaze locked onto his, almost as if saying: Keep going. Just keep going.

Ethan wanted to scream, to ask how she was doing this, but there was no air—only water and silence. He reached out for her, but his strength was fading. Every stroke felt like a monumental effort, and his body was nearing its limit. He felt the world begin to slip away, his consciousness fading.

So close, he thought, a mix of desperation and determination. He could feel the bottom near—something dense, almost tangible, waiting for him. But his vision darkened, the void creeping in.

His body was exhausted, his lungs burned, and his mind was a fog. He knew he was at the edge. A single thread of willpower kept him conscious, but that thread was about to snap.

And then, Ethan stopped moving. He was so close, but he could go no further…