There is a monster going around killing his friends while he's trapped in a curse meant to show his deepest fears.
Lyon opened his eyes to pitch black, with a startling realization that he has no idea how he have gotten here. There's a niggling feeling at the back of his mind that told him he should be panicking right now, but he remained calm. He looked down at his hands, unbearably pale in the blackness and dimly perceived that he shouldn't be able to even see his hands.
He let his hands fall to his side and started walking, feeling inexplicably serene. He's forgetting something, he knew, like how he has gotten here without remembering anything.
He gazed ahead, blinking in surprise when he noticed a trail of narrow path opened up in front of him. He stepped onto the pathway.
Time passed steadily. It could be hours, or days, or maybe even mere minutes, he wasn't sure, but the pathway continued on without seeming to end. And so he walked on without stopping.
The first break of tranquillity finally came when he heard running footsteps approaching his direction. He stopped and looked out into the darkness. A figure was growing bigger as it came closer, until he could make out pink hair and sapphire blue eyes.
Sherry nearly collided into him, and up close, he could see that her gaze was blank and frantic. She stared at him without recognition, and there was a smear of red at the corner of her cheek like the blush of an apple.
"Run." She panted and shook him hard. Her hands were bloody and she left stains of blood upon his clothes. "He's coming! He's coming to finish me off!"
"Who?" He felt his mouth moved and formed words, staring at her as if he was a mere spectator to her breakdown.
"Run!" She answered instead, and without glancing back, she ran off into the darkness before him.
His next interruption came in the form of a body blocking his path. The body had light brown hair, tangled and clumped with drying blood. In his hand clutched a bloodied sock.
Lyon stepped over the body and continued on, with a creeping dread that something felt very wrong.
He was forced to stop when another figure appeared in front of him. Unlike Sherry, the figure seemed to be walking slowly. This time, Lyon paused and let the other person approached him.
"Lyon," The blue-haired man murmured. "What are you doing? Why are you not running?"
"Why should I be running?" He asked, raising a curious brow.
Yuka's gaze was darting around nervously, as if afraid that if he lingered around for too long, whoever that's chasing after him would catch up.
"Run before the monster catch you." Yuka warned.
"Who's the monster?" He asked, but the blue-haired man was long gone. It was only that he realized that Yuka had left behind a set of bloody footprints in his wake.
Lyon felt a hint of urgency seeped into his movement and he quickened his strides. He needed to go somewhere... but where? Where was he heading to anyway?
When he heard running footsteps advancing towards him rapidly, he froze and unconsciously slid into a defensive stance. He relaxed slightly when he caught sight of dark pink hair pulled into pigtails at the sides of her head. Chelia slammed right into him, not stopping in her tracks and tried to drag him along.
"Come on, Lyon! We have to go!" She shouted.
He was faintly aware that her voice should have at least echoed in the dark void they were in, but it didn't. It was strangely muffled.
"Go where?" He demanded, a tinge of desperation coloring his voice.
Chelia looked back at him, eyes narrowed and determined. She cupped his face, her blunt nails digging into the soft flesh of his face.
"Wake up, Lyon!" She screamed.
But I'm not sleeping, he wanted to yell back, but then her face blanched in shock and her entire body jerked forward. Her eyes widened, and they looked so much like her cousin's. He couldn't see anything other than her bewildered eyes, so huge, so blue. And then she gagged and threw up a river of blood over his front.
He looked down and saw the tip of a sword protruding from her chest slowly retracting back. Over Chelia's shoulder, he saw the monster Yuka had warned him about.
There was emptiness in the dark eyes; nothing existed in them except for the thrill of a kill and the thirst for death. When it noticed him looking, its human lips, thin and crimson, stretched into a wide, vacant smile.
"Wake up, Lyon." Chelia begged, the flesh on her face melting off. Blood oozed from every pore on her body, and a scream caught in Lyon's throat. Then she vanished and he was standing drenched in blood.
It was hot and sticky and his soaked clothes clung to his skin. The monster watched him expectantly, as if it was waiting for him to do something. Lyon looked up and saw silver hair and slanted, dark eyes reflected in the other's eyes. With trembling hands, a similar ice sword formed in his hands. He lifted the sword high in the air, stared at the mirror image in front of him, and swung the blade across his nightmare.
There was a sound like glass shattering in his ears, almost deafening him, and then Lyon was on his knees in soft, dewy grass. Sunlight glared down upon his dry, bloodless skin and unsoiled clothes, and he was surrounded by his frantic team. He stared up at them with wide eyes before he turned and vomited to the side.