Chapter 33: The Theatre of Fractured Truths

The air in the mansion was different now. It vibrated with a low, resonant hum, as though the walls themselves were sighing with anticipation. Caelum’s footsteps echoed louder than they should have, each step a reminder of the impossible weight that pressed on him. The corridors were less labyrinthine, yet more threatening—sharper edges, darker shadows, and corners that seemed to breathe as he passed.

And then he heard it: Elias’s voice. A sonorous tone, laced with honey and venom, weaving through the halls like a siren’s call.

“You’re almost there, Caelum,” Elias crooned. “But what’s waiting for you? Triumph? Or another abyss?”

Caelum turned a corner and froze. Before him was an ornate doorway, its frame carved from black stone that shimmered faintly, as though lit from within. Etched into its surface were images of hands reaching, grasping, pulling. Above it, a plaque read: “Auditorium of Truths.”

He hesitated. The mansion had taught him to distrust its invitations. Yet, Elias’s voice beckoned from beyond the door.

With a deep breath, Caelum pushed it open.

Inside was a grand auditorium, impossibly vast. The ceiling arched into a starless void, its edges dissolving into nothingness. The seats—rows upon rows of them—were filled with silhouettes, their faces obscured. At the center of the stage stood Elias, illuminated by a spotlight that cast no shadow. His posture was regal, his face a perfect mask of serenity and malice.

“Welcome,” Elias said, spreading his arms wide. “To the truth.”

Elias stepped forward, his presence magnetic. His voice carried a weight that seemed to press down on the room.

“Do you know what this place is?” he asked, his tone conversational yet laced with mockery.

Caelum clenched his fists. “Another one of your games?”

Elias chuckled, a sound that echoed unnaturally. “No, no. This is no game. This is a stage—a stage for the most important performance of your life.”

At a gesture from Elias, the silhouettes in the seats began to stir. Their movements were disjointed, like marionettes tugged by invisible strings. One by one, they stood and turned toward Caelum. As they moved, their features became clearer—faces he recognized. His mother. His father. Friends he hadn’t thought of in years. Strangers whose faces lingered in his nightmares.

Elias’s voice cut through Caelum’s shock. “These are your audience, Caelum. They’ve been watching you since the beginning.”

“What do you want from me?” Caelum demanded, his voice raw.

Elias smiled, a cruel curve of his lips. “To listen. To understand.”

Elias clapped his hands, and the room erupted into sound. It wasn’t music; it was chaos. Voices overlapping in a cacophony, each one sharp and insistent. They weren’t words but fragments—pieces of conversations, arguments, confessions.

And then Caelum realized: they were his memories.

The voices spoke truths he’d tried to forget.

“I never wanted this!”
“You’re a failure.”
“Why can’t you just be normal?”
“It’s your fault.”

Caelum fell to his knees, clutching his head. The weight of the voices was unbearable, each one a dagger plunging into his psyche.

Elias descended the stage, his steps slow and deliberate. He knelt before Caelum, his expression almost gentle. “Do you see now? This is what you’ve carried all this time. Every regret, every mistake, every wound. They are the foundation of this place. Of you.”

Caelum forced himself to his feet, his body trembling. “And what about you, Elias? What are you in all of this?”

Elias tilted his head, amused. “I am the mirror, Caelum. I am what you see when you strip everything else away.”

“You’re nothing but a parasite,” Caelum spat. “Feeding on my pain.”

Elias’s smile vanished, replaced by something darker. “And what are you without me?” His voice was low, dangerous. “Do you think you’d exist without the mansion? Without the voices? Without me?”

The words struck a chord, a truth Caelum didn’t want to acknowledge. But he refused to yield. “I’ll tear this place down,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm inside him. “I’ll tear you down.”

Elias stepped closer, their faces inches apart. “Then do it. If you can.”

The silhouettes began to move again, their voices rising in a crescendo. The auditorium trembled, cracks spiderwebbing across the walls and ceiling. The stage began to splinter, the spotlight flickering wildly.

Elias stepped back, his arms spread wide. “This is your moment, Caelum. Destroy me, if that’s what you think will save you. But remember—this place isn’t just me. It’s you.”

Caelum hesitated. His hands shook as he reached for the dagger at his side, its blade gleaming with a faint, otherworldly light.

“You’re lying,” he whispered. But the words lacked conviction.

Elias’s smile returned, softer this time. “Am I?”

The room began to collapse, the audience dissolving into shadows. Caelum raised the dagger, his grip tightening. He lunged, aiming for Elias’s heart.

When the blade struck, there was no resistance. Elias’s body dissolved into light, scattering like ash in the wind. The room was silent.

Caelum stood alone on the shattered stage, the dagger heavy in his hand. The auditorium was gone, replaced by a void that stretched infinitely in all directions.

But he wasn’t free. Not yet.

From the void, a voice emerged—not Elias’s, but his own.

“Do you understand now?”