3rd Eye

The whispers returned with a vengeance, their voices no longer fragmented or cryptic. They were sharp, insistent—like shards of glass slicing through my thoughts. Each word carried weight, as if the very fabric of reality was leaning on me to make a choice. 

*"You see now,"* they hissed. *"You understand what you must do."*

But understanding and accepting are two very different things.

I needed answers. More than that, I needed control.

I paced the room like a caged animal, my mind racing faster than my feet. The encounter in the Veil had left me shaken but exhilarated. For the first time, I'd glimpsed the true scope of my abilities—and the stakes involved. But it also raised questions that gnawed at me relentlessly.

Why me? Why now? What made me "chosen"?

And most importantly: Could I really trust the man in the park?

He claimed to guide me, but something about him felt... off. His presence in the Veil hadn't been entirely human. His form flickered, his voice echoed unnaturally. Was he truly helping me, or was he manipulating me for some greater purpose? The thought sent a shiver down my spine.

But dwelling on doubts wouldn't get me anywhere. If I wanted to survive—let alone thrive—I needed to master the Third Eye. To do that, I had to confront the madness head-on.

That night, I tried meditating again. This time, I prepared myself mentally, bracing for whatever horrors awaited me. I lit the candle, dimmed the lights, and sat cross-legged on the floor. My hands rested on my knees, palms facing upward, fingers forming loose circles. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing.

Inhale. Exhale.

The whispers began almost immediately, swirling around me like a swarm of insects. They grew louder, more aggressive, until they became a deafening roar. But instead of resisting, I let them wash over me. I imagined them as waves crashing against a cliff, powerless to erode the stone.

Then came the hands.

They materialized out of the darkness once more, reaching for me with skeletal fingers. Dozens of them, maybe hundreds. They wrapped around my arms, my legs, my neck, pulling me in every direction. Their grip was suffocating, relentless. Panic bubbled up inside me, threatening to overwhelm me.

But I remembered the voice from before—the one that had urged me to *let go*. Clenching my teeth, I forced myself to relax. To breathe. To embrace the stillness.

The hands tightened their grip, digging into my flesh like claws. Pain shot through my body, white-hot and searing. I bit back a scream, focusing on the rhythm of my breath. Slowly, painfully, the pressure eased. The hands loosened their hold, retreating into the shadows.

And then I saw her.

A figure emerged from the darkness, her form shimmering like heatwaves on asphalt. She wore a tattered dress that billowed around her as though caught in an unseen breeze. Her hair was long and wild, obscuring her face—but I could feel her gaze piercing through me.

"Who are you?" I croaked, my voice barely audible.

She didn't answer. Instead, she reached out, her hand brushing against my forehead. A jolt of electricity surged through me, and images flooded my mind—flashes of places I'd never been, faces I didn't recognize, events that hadn't happened yet. It was overwhelming, disorienting. I wanted to pull away, but I couldn't move.

When she finally stepped back, the visions faded, leaving behind a lingering sense of dread.

"You are not ready," she said, her voice layered with echoes, as though spoken by multiple people at once. "The threads will consume you if you cannot calm the storm within."

Before I could respond, she dissolved into mist, vanishing into the void.

I woke on the floor, drenched in sweat, my heart hammering in my chest. The room was silent except for the faint crackling of the candle flame. My body ached, and my forehead throbbed where the scar lay, pulsating faintly beneath my skin.

What the hell was that?

Was she another manifestation of my subconscious? Or something else entirely? The line between reality and hallucination blurred more with each passing day. How much of what I experienced was real, and how much was a product of my unraveling mind?

I didn't have time to dwell on it. The cracks in the Veil were growing larger, and the Unveiled were becoming bolder. If I didn't act soon, the consequences would be catastrophic—not just for me, but for everyone.

---

The next morning, I returned to the park, searching for the man who had introduced me to this nightmare. He wasn't hard to find; he sat on the same bench, reading the same book, as if he'd been waiting for me all along.

"I saw it," I said without preamble, my voice tight with frustration. "The Veil. The cracks. The creature."

He lowered the book, meeting my gaze with those piercing blue eyes. "And?"

"And I need to know more," I snapped. "How do I fix it? How do I stop the Unveiled from breaking through?"

His expression remained impassive. "You already know the answer. You must learn to weave the threads. To repair the fractures in the Veil."

"Great," I muttered. "Care to explain how I'm supposed to do that without losing my mind in the process?"

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "The Third Eye is both a blessing and a curse. It grants you unparalleled insight, but it also exposes you to forces beyond comprehension. To master it, you must balance your inner turmoil. Meditation is only the first step. Beyond that lies discipline, focus—and sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" I repeated, my stomach sinking. "What kind of sacrifice?"

"That depends on you," he replied cryptically. "Every Seer walks a different path. Some lose pieces of themselves along the way. Others lose everything."

His words hung heavy in the air, weighing me down like chains. I stared at him, searching for any sign of deception, but his face betrayed nothing.

"What happens if I fail?" I asked quietly.

He hesitated, then spoke with a gravity that chilled me to the bone. "If you fail, the Veil will collapse. The Unveiled will pour into our world, consuming everything in their wake. Reality itself will unravel."

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the rustling leaves overhead. The enormity of the task ahead hit me like a freight train. How could I possibly shoulder such responsibility? Who was I to decide the fate of the world?

But deep down, I knew the truth. Whether I liked it or not, I was already part of this. There was no turning back.

"Fine," I said finally, my voice steadier than I expected. "Tell me what I need to do next."

The corner of his mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. "Very well. But remember, Akihen: the road ahead is fraught with peril. Madness awaits those who stray too far from the path."

As he spoke, I felt the whispers stir within me, their voices rising in anticipation.

They weren't afraid.

Neither was I.