The bathroom. So close, yet so far.

Upon reaching it, he clung to the sink as if it were the last bastion of a fading world.

His legs trembled under the weight of his body, and his reflection in the mirror was a distortion of shadows and crimson stains. Blood ran down his face, mixing with sweat and dirt, creating a grotesque mask of his former self.

With superhuman effort, he reached out towards the medicine cabinet, but his fingers only grazed the rusted edge before his arm gave way.

The slip was inevitable. His body slumped to the floor with a dull thud, and the coldness of the tiles pierced his skin like a dagger. Pain shot through him, sharp and penetrating.

The medicine cabinet was there, so close, but unattainable.

—No... not like this —he muttered, filled with determination—. I’m not going to die in a fucking bathroom.

His hand clenched tightly around the knife still warm with blood.

Gasping, he used it to drag the metal box towards him, the only damn advantage of this disaster: that it had fallen next to him. The screech of metal against tiles made his teeth grind, but he didn't stop. When the medicine cabinet was finally beside him, he let out a choked laugh.

"What irony… I only know one person capable of defying the Arcane in such an absurd way…. And it’s me… so I have a forest to visit."

Suddenly, the world crumbled. The bathroom, with its artificial light and impersonal coldness, vanished like a forgotten dream upon waking. The floor gave way beneath his feet, and he fell into a bottomless abyss, without time, without meaning.

When he regained consciousness, the red and sticky grass under his chest reminded him that he was still alive. The air was fresh, but carried the metallic taste of blood and the earthy aroma of soil.

He tried to speak, but only managed to emit a guttural sound, a groan that was lost in the breeze.

"So... it was always me...", he muttered, although the words weighed on his tongue. "The red door… it has to be her doing. But… why?"

But there was no time for deep reflections.

His vision was a chaos of writhing shadows, and his body, heavy and useless, barely responded. However, between his numb fingers, he felt something: a small box.

With clumsy movements, he opened it, fumbling with its contents.

Vials.

The icy glass kissed his skin, indifferent. His fingers, stained red, slid over the surfaces, searching for something that only he could feel... until he found it.

A different vial. It didn't burn like fire, but like something deeper. Like a heartbeat trapped in crystal.

A faint smile, almost imperceptible, formed on his face. Before a retch shook his body, and a thread of blood escaped his lips.

But he didn't care.

"This..."

With the last spark of his will, he opened the vial and let a drop slide onto his tongue.

And then, the world vanished into a warm and welcoming darkness.