For a long moment, Thea and Igor stood in silence.
Above them, the sky pulsed with enormous floating eyes — each one blinking slowly, rhythmically, as though synced to a heartbeat neither of them could hear.
They didn't speak right away. What was there to say?
Then Igor muttered, "I feel like I'm being stared at by God... if God worked in surveillance."
"Or had a massive eye fetish," Thea added under her breath.
Ahead of them, a cobbled path unfurled on its own, brick by brick, leading into what looked like a city—but with no horizon. Just infinite buildings stacked like folded paper, warped streets that twisted into vertical walls, and windows that followed them when they moved.
Every light was a camera. Every reflection blinked.
"This place wasn't designed by architects," Igor said. "It was designed by whatever lives inside a malfunctioning security system."
As they walked, the path reacted to their presence. Tiles glowed underfoot. Vents sighed as they passed. Every so often, a robotic voice whispered something unintelligible—garbled words that sounded like recordings played backward.
"Do you think this is another test zone?" Thea asked.
"Feels more like a punishment for passing the last one," Igor replied. "Like we skipped the tutorial and now we're in the boss level."
They turned a corner. The street ended abruptly in a floating glass platform.
In its center: a fountain. But instead of water, it spilled letters — actual letters, pouring out like a waterfall and vanishing into a drain below. The sound wasn't liquid. It was… whispering. Pages turning. Overlapping voices murmuring secrets they couldn't quite catch.
Thea stepped closer.
Each letter flickered as it fell — A, E, L, I, O… over and over.
Vowels.
"Is it spelling something?" she asked.
"Maybe," Igor said. "Or maybe it's just trying to see what we'll do with nonsense."
Suddenly, a soft chime echoed in the air. The same robotic voice as before, but clearer this time:
"Welcome to The City of Eyes. You have been observed. You are now being evaluated."
A spotlight appeared over them. Just them.
Then, a metal shutter slid open on a nearby wall, revealing what looked like… a ticket booth?
A woman sat inside. Pale. Still. Her eyes were mirrors.
"You may ask one question," she said, voice completely monotone. "Only one."
Igor looked at Thea. "You want this one?"
"No, you go," she said. "If it turns into a riddle demon, I'm not dealing with that twice in a row."
He leaned forward toward the glass. "Why are we here?"
The mirrored woman didn't blink.
But the building behind her did — the windows all blinked at once, a shutter of glass closing and opening.
Then she spoke again.
"Because someone wants to know what happens when loyalty faces truth."
Thea stiffened. "That's… weirdly specific."
"You may not ask again," the woman added. "Your evaluation continues."
Then the booth folded in on itself like paper, vanishing into the wall.
The Mirror District
As they moved deeper into the city, the atmosphere changed. The blinking eyes were quieter now — some closed completely. The buildings grew taller, shadows longer. But the city still watched, even if it didn't blink.
They passed a row of mannequins sitting at an outdoor café. Each one wore a different mask — comedy, tragedy, anger, bliss. They turned their heads to follow Thea and Igor's movements.
"Y'know, I thought I'd be used to this kind of stuff by now," Igor said. "I was wrong."
"Maybe that's the point," Thea murmured.
Ahead, they spotted a glass elevator in the middle of a plaza. It wasn't attached to any building.
The doors opened for them without a sound.
As they stepped in, the voice returned:
"Level Progression Detected. Emotional Baseline: Compromised. Processing Previous Patterns…"
The elevator didn't move. But everything around them did.
The city started to rotate.
Buildings shifted orientation. Streets stretched and snapped like rubber bands. A carousel made of office chairs spun past.
Then came the faces.
Dozens of them.
Projecting onto the glass elevator walls — flickering like old film.
Faces of people they'd known. Some long forgotten. Teachers. Childhood bullies. Classmates they barely remembered. A barista. A janitor.
Then... Igor's mother.
Thea's brother.
Each face whispered something. Not words. Just a feeling. Regret. Confusion. Guilt.
"They're using memory now," Thea whispered. "Digging into our minds."
"Yeah," Igor said. "Well, joke's on them. My memory is already a haunted house."
One face lingered longer than the rest.
A teenage version of Igor. Pale. Eyeless. Smiling.
"I remember what you did," the projection said in Igor's voice.
The real Igor looked away, jaw clenched.
Thea reached out and touched the glass.
"Ignore it. It's noise. It's trying to destabilize us."
"You're handling this suspiciously well," Igor said.
"I'm compartmentalizing everything so hard I'll probably explode in three days."
"Ah," he nodded. "Healthy."
Descent and Discovery
The elevator finally moved.
But instead of going up or down, it sank sideways — slipping into a seam in the wall that hadn't existed before. They emerged into a station of some kind — subway-like, but the tracks were made of mirrors, and instead of trains, empty shoes paced along the rails.
Hundreds of shoes. Walking with no one in them.
A sign overhead read:"NEXT: The Hall of Intentions."
Below it:"Abandon your false goals to proceed."
"We've entered philosophy class," Igor said flatly.
Thea stepped forward. "Whatever they're testing, it's getting more personal."
They followed the shoes — some too large, some comically small — until they reached a massive double door. Carved into the frame was one sentence:
"Who are you when no one's watching?"
The doors opened on their own.
And inside?
A mirror. Just one.
Big enough for both of them.
But when they looked into it… they weren't alone.
Their reflections looked back — but older. Tired. Scared.
And behind them… shadows. Dozens of them.
Watching. Waiting.