"WE'RE HERE! THE FINAL FLOOR!" Thorne yelled as the group stumbled—tumbled, really—down a half-frozen staircase that probably wasn't up to safety code.
Cael landed flat on his face. "We are not ready. We're absolutely not ready—"
"I think I broke my ghost kneecap," Renna muttered.
"I landed on a rat," Alaric said, holding up what was definitely just a frozen sausage link. "Wait. Never mind."
Lys stood up and brushed the snow off her cloak. Her eyes narrowed at the scene before them.
The final floor was a vast, ice-covered cavern. Blue-white frost coated the walls, and pillars of jagged crystal jutted from the ground like fangs. Cold air curled and whispered around them—soft, melodic, almost… beckoning.
It was eerily beautiful. And also, definitely cursed.
"This place gives me goosebumps," Lys muttered.
"It gives me frostbite," Renna added, hopping on one leg. "One of my limbs is actually stuck to an icicle."
A gust of wind blew through the cavern, and with it came a deep, echoing rumble.
Cael immediately ducked behind a rock. "That's it. That's the sound of the end. This is the endgame. We're gonna die in here and be frozen into little meat popsicles."
"It's just wind," Alaric said. "We've faced worse."
"That's exactly what they say in horror stories before they get mauled by an ice bear!"
Thorne slammed his lance on the icy ground. "Let the beasts come! I shall spear them all and then name them after myself!"
"You tried to name a sewer rat 'Sir Thorne the Valiant'," Lys pointed out.
"And did he not die valiantly?"
"…He exploded."
"VALIANTLY!"
Before the bickering could continue, a low hum began to vibrate through the cavern. The crystalline walls shimmered—pale reflections of the group dancing across the ice. One reflection shimmered longer than the rest—Lys's.
She stared at it.
Her reflection smiled.
She didn't.
Cael peeked over the rock, immediately paranoid. "Why is your reflection moving without you?! That's a trope! That's a thing! That's foreshadowing!!"
Lys took a step back. Her breath caught. The cavern suddenly felt colder. Not on the skin—but deep, down in the gut.
And far ahead, half-buried in the ice, was a sealed door. Symbols glowed faintly on its surface. A large, circular lock sat at its center, surrounded by broken mirrors and frozen vines.
The door pulsed.
Something behind it pulsed back.
And somewhere… it knew her name.
The moment Lys took a cautious step toward the sealed door, the air cracked like glass.
A pulse of pressure rolled out across the icy cavern—silent, invisible, but heavy enough to press against their bones. Snow lifted off the ground like it was held in suspension. Time itself seemed to hiccup.
Then—
"I'm putting an end to this circus."
The voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere all at once. Smooth. Cold. Very, very done.
With a slow swirl of shadows, a tall figure materialized in the middle of the group—right between Thorne and Cael, who both screamed in completely different pitches.
Verilith.
The demon general's heels clicked softly against the frost. Her long dark cloak billowed without wind, and thin chains of shadow curled around her arms like lazy snakes. Crimson eyes glowed from beneath her horned helm, and her smirk was that of a woman who had watched twenty episodes of this anime and was done with the filler.
"One of you somehow set a cabbage stand on fire in the underworld," she counted off on shadowy fingers.
Cael: "That wasn't even my fault!"
Verilith didn't blink.
"And now you're trying to open that door?" she said, voice low. "You really are trying to speedrun your own doom."
Before anyone could respond, a crown of white flame erupted into existence over Alaric's head with a loud FWOOSH.
Alaric didn't hesitate.
"DIE!" he roared, drawing his glowing sword and charging with the full energy of someone who absolutely did not have a plan.
Verilith sighed.
With a flick of her wrist, the ground beneath her shimmered black—and she vanished into the floor just as Alaric's sword slammed down where she'd been standing.
Then the ice itself rippled like water.
Shadows coiled up from the floor and surged outward like a wave, swallowing the group one by one.
"NOT AGAIN—" Cael shouted before being pulled under.
"CAN I TAKE MY SNACK—" Renna vanished.
"THIS IS SO COOL—" Thorne yelled.
Lys didn't scream.
She simply vanished into the dark.
Silence.
Lys opened her eyes.
She stood in a reflection of the dungeon floor, but everything was bathed in cold, soft black. There were no sounds. No echoes. No group. Just her. And a woman walking toward her—slowly, deliberately.
Verilith.
"Let's see what breaks first," the demon general murmured, her voice almost kind. "The coward in the ice... or the girl who hides her heart in frost."
Lys clenched her fists. The temperature dropped around her, frost blooming on her sleeves. Her voice came out calm.
"I'm not scared of you."
Verilith tilted her head. "You're scared of yourself. That's worse."
Shadow Realm – Lys's Mind
Verilith approached slowly, her silhouette flickering like a living shadow. Her eyes glowed softly—hungrily—as she reached out.
"This layer isn't bound by your physical rules, girl," she whispered, voice dripping like honey into venom. "And to unravel you... I don't need to fight. I just need to see."
With a finger under Lys's chin, Verilith tilted her head up—not with force, but the kind of elegance that left no room to resist.
The world around them darkened further, forming ripples like black glass. Verilith leaned in close, her crimson eyes narrowing.
"Let's look a little deeper, shall we?"
A piercing sensation surged through Lys's temple—like an old wound being torn open.
"No—!"
But it was too late.
Suddenly, Lys stood in a field—sunlight warm, air smelling faintly of mud and melting snow.
A small park sat at the edge of a city skyline. Bright yellow daffodils pushed through damp earth. Children laughed in the distance.
And right beside her, sat her.
A girl with tangled hair and a toothy grin. Backpack too big for her frame. Scraped knees and wild ideas. Her name echoed faintly through the space like a song that once brought comfort and now only burned.
Maya.
Verilith's voice slithered in from the corners of the memory, low and cruel.
"You never asked, did you?"
Lys flinched.
"You noticed something was wrong. The way her smile didn't always reach her eyes. The way she'd grow quiet when no one was watching. You felt it. But you said nothing."
The scene twisted.
Maya sat on the swings, staring up at the sky, silent. Lys stood behind her, phone in hand, hesitation carved into her face.
Just say it.
Ask her.
But she didn't.
The memory skipped. Time blurred.
A faint phone screen glowed in the dark.
"Hey. I just wanted to say thanks for being my friend."
And then silence.
Lys's voice cracked. "I was scared."
Verilith watched her with cold interest, as if observing a butterfly pinned to glass. "Scared of what?"
Lys's knees buckled. She sank into the damp grass, voice hollow.
"I didn't know what to say. I didn't want to say the wrong thing. I thought maybe it would go away. That she'd feel better soon."
Her hands shook. "But she didn't."
A pause. Then, in a whisper,
"I let her carry it alone."
Verilith circled her like a vulture, whispering into her ear.
"Coward."
Lys didn't respond. She couldn't. The word echoed louder than anything else.
"You could've helped her. You were right there. But you ran from the weight of her sadness. Hid behind silence. And now—"
"I know!" Lys screamed.
"I know I was a coward."
Tears streamed down her face, freezing mid-fall. The frost crawled up her arms, her chest. Every breath was heavy.
"I should've spoken. I should've been there. But I wasn't. I failed her."
The memory began to fracture, like a mirror cracking.
Lys clutched her chest, pain surging through every bone. "I miss her. But I don't deserve to."
Verilith crouched before her, hand gently lifting Lys's chin again.
"Oh, but you do," she said with a slow smile. "You'll carry this forever. Let it fester. Let it remind you... that you're not a hero. Just a frightened girl, too small for the weight of the world."
The shadow around them grew thicker.
Lys didn't fight back.
She only closed her eyes—and cried.
The world around Lys shifted again—gentle sunlight returning, as if nothing had shattered.
The park bloomed brighter now, impossibly so. Cherry blossoms fluttered through the air like confetti. In front of her, Maya stood, older. Healthier. Laughing.
She was wearing a school uniform, holding two drinks in her hands.
"Lyyyys!" Maya called out, smiling wide. "You better not have ditched cram school again! I got your favorite."
Lys stepped forward instinctively. The warmth of the illusion pulled at her like gravity. Her legs moved on their own.
She took the drink. Their hands touched. It was warm.
A false warmth.
"You never got to see this future," Verilith whispered, hidden in the wind. "You stole it from yourself."
The scene shifted—flickering like film.
Now they were at a tiny café, laughing over shared desserts. Then, crammed together on a bus, talking about future plans. Then, standing at graduation, smiling, arms around each other.
Maya's voice echoed faintly through each scene:
"Thanks for being there, Lys."
"I dunno what I'd do without you."
"You always listen. Even when I don't say it right."
Lys's throat tightened. She reached out to touch her friend's cheek, but her hand went straight through.
The illusion began to dissolve.
Verilith spoke again, her voice heavy with venom-coated silk. "But you weren't there, were you? Not when it mattered."
Now came the real memories.
Cold.
Muted.
Lys staring at a desk in class with no one beside her.
The funeral.
White chrysanthemums.
An empty chair.
A single unopened message on her phone that she read a thousand times too late.
Lys clutched her chest. "Stop…"
Verilith stepped beside her, but her face was Maya's now.
A mockery of what was lost.
"I would've stayed," the illusion said sweetly, "if you had just said something. If you'd just told me it was okay to be broken."
Lys dropped to her knees again.
Verilith knelt beside her, hand brushing Lys's hair like a sister, like a friend, like a monster.
"You failed her," she whispered. "And you know you'll fail again. That's who you are. A coward."
The park fell to winter in a blink. Snow crushed the blossoms. Laughter died. Everything was silent.
Lys didn't scream.
She didn't run.
She just sat there—arms around herself, eyes empty.
Tears fell, unnoticed.