A-Tuo stood in front of the mirror, his eyes bloodshot, his hands trembling as they supported his weight. The feathers on his back seemed to grow continuously with his emotions, like countless sharp needles piercing his skin, making it hard for him to breathe. He felt as though he was about to be consumed by these feathers, as if invisible hands were tightly holding him, preventing him from escaping.
He turned around, wanting to leave the mirror, but he found his steps growing heavier, as if each movement was being pulled by an invisible force. With every step, his body felt as though it were being covered by layers of unseen pressure, making it difficult to breathe. The pain in his back grew more intense, the tips of the feathers like corroded needles, stabbing into every inch of his skin, as if each feather carried a curse, draining his life force.
He tried to reach for his back, but as soon as his fingers touched the feathers, his whole body was jolted as if struck by electricity. The intense pain made him fall to his knees. It felt as though his soul was being slowly drained away, plunging him into endless torment.
The words from the book resurfaced in A-Tuo's mind — "Feathered People, prisoners of the soul." He wanted to refute it, to escape this terrifying fate, but the weakness of his body left him unable to resist any longer. He realized that this was not an ordinary nightmare, but an inescapable reality.
He looked down and saw that his fingers no longer seemed like his own. At each joint, black feathers began to sprout, seemingly drawn by some eerie force. They began to crawl beneath his skin, making his muscles and blood vessels no longer control his limbs. His breath grew faster, and his mind was flooded with an unbearable fear, as though the whole world were silently collapsing around him.
"No... no..." He tried to speak, but his voice grew weaker, like an echo being swallowed. His lips trembled, his eyes filled with inescapable pain. Then, he heard the voice—
"You cannot escape."
The voice came from all directions, as if it came from deep within his heart, or from a darker place altogether. It was a low voice, filled with endless eeriness and threat, like the whisper of an ancient being. The coldness and hatred in the voice seemed like the low cries of countless souls, tearing at A-Tuo's nerves.
A-Tuo tremblingly lifted his head. The air before him began to distort, and everything around him became unreal. The walls of the room slowly started to peel away, revealing layers of decaying darkness, like countless abandoned bones. On the walls, the familiar paintings began to distort, the eyes of the figures turning hollow, their mouths twisted in cold smiles, as if they were watching him, the victim.
"Did you think this was the end?" The voice rang out again, sharper this time, like an echo from the abyss. "This is just the beginning."
A-Tuo's heart began to race uncontrollably. His vision blurred, and the world around him seemed to challenge him. He felt every part of his body collapsing, and no matter how he struggled, he couldn't resist the deep, overwhelming force. His consciousness gradually sank into darkness, and the fear within him surged like a flood, swallowing all his reason.
He didn't know whether he was still alive or had already become part of the "Feathered People," forever unable to return to reality. A sharp pain shot through his back, as if something was crawling out of him. The tips of the feathers were like blades, cutting through his flesh and piercing his soul.
Finally, when he could no longer endure the endless pain, his vision blurred completely, and all that remained in his mind was a mocking laugh:
"You are already a part of me."
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