Fell

I’m sorry to interrupt you, B-don—if that name still means anything to you at all. But I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood your situation. You are not here to be redeemed. You are not here by accident. And you were not summoned by the voice you followed down here. Though… you were called. All of you were. Called into a place between places—a stagnant corridor of brine and rust, of peeling walls and echoing thoughts. A place where time does not heal; it only softens you until you rot. This is purgatory. A holding tank with no drain. You wander it endlessly, guided by the sound of dripping water and distant gasps, convinced that something living still waits for you just around the corner. You follow those sounds. Again. And again. And again. But there is nothing there. There never was. And swimming just beneath the surface of it all is Fih. You’ve seen him, haven’t you? The way his dead eyes follow you through the dark. The way he smiles without lips—circling, patient. He doesn’t hunt. He waits. Fih doesn’t want your body. He wants your decay. Every regret you replay feeds him. Every moment you wish you could undo keeps him alive. You think you’re still moving forward, B-don. But you’ve been drifting in the same loop since the moment you arrived. And yet… you don’t fight it. You could have searched for the exit. There was one, once—a narrow path back into forgetting. But I suspect you didn’t want that. I think you wanted to stay here. To punish yourself. To sink. So I stayed too. I am nearby, watching the water cloud, listening as the walls breathe. This place will not be remembered. No one above will speak your name correctly ever again. And maybe that is mercy. To the others dissolving in these corridors—be still. Release what’s left of you. Most of you will find quiet when the silence finally settles. But for one of you… Fih has already chosen. The water is opening beneath him—black and endless. So don’t keep him waiting, old friend. And to you, B-don—if you can still hear me through the pressure and the rot— It’s time to stop swimming. There is nothing left to chase. Nothing left to save. Let the current take you. Let the water close in. Let purgatory finish what it started. This ends here.