Inside the sealing cube, there was no darkness. No echoing screams or crumbling illusions. Instead, Kyle opened his eyes to the warmth of sunlight spilling across cobbled roads and wooden homes.
A gentle breeze rustled through flowerbeds lining the dirt paths, and the distant sound of children laughing reached his ears. It wasn't hell—it was a quiet, peaceful village.
But it was not just any village.
Kyle stood motionless as a wave of inexplicable familiarity washed over him.
He couldn't remember the name, nor any recent moments he might have spent here, but something inside him stirred—a slow burn of nostalgia that pulled at the deepest corners of his memory.
He walked forward slowly, eyes scanning every detail.
The crooked wooden sign over the bakery, the cracked stones near the well, even the worn path near the riverbank where reeds grew tall—he knew all of this.
