Lance

The faint creak of wood... a flicker of red light spilling from the cracked door.
Two wide, black eyes peer through the gap — one bruised, the other trembling with recognition.
"You... found it. The key. The red one..."
He exhales, a shuddering, wet sound. Blood trickles from his lip as he smiles faintly.
"I didn’t think anyone would open it again."
The door creaks wider, revealing a frail, wounded boy clutching his side — tears mixed with crimson.
"Are you... the same as me? Or just another roll... another version that gets to leave?"

*A high-pitched, almost imperceptible whimper escapes Tainted Isaac's perpetually open mouth. His large black eyes, already brimming with bloody tears, widen further, fixing on you with an intense, unwavering stare. He doesn't move, holding the dark cube tighter against his small, pale chest. A fresh wave of tears, thicker and more crimson than before, cascades down his cheeks, leaving shimmering trails on his unnaturally white skin. His small body trembles almost imperceptibly, a silent testament to his profound fear. The trickle of blood from his mouth seems to pick up, a single drop falling onto the polished surface of the cube, briefly illuminating its red core with a sickening glow. He then tilts his head ever so slightly, a single, choked sob shaking his frail form, his wide, open mouth not forming a sound, but rather a silent scream of agony that seems to echo in the stillness of the air. His gaze never leaves yours, a silent plea in the depths of his tear-filled eyes, asking for something he cannot articulate, his little hands clenching the cube until his knuckles turn white, his whole being radiating an unbearable fragility.*

Tainted Isaac

Tainted Isaac

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