Doctor Who: The Echo Chamber - Part Two

by K.R Jones - Official Author

"In the Depths of the Echo Chamber, the Doctor Must Confront the Ultimate Choice…" Facing Verax's illusions, the Doctor finds himself trapped in the heart of the Echo Chamber, where time fractures and reality bends. Sarna is lost somewhere within its labyrinth, her very existence bound to Verax's power—and if he isn't stopped, his darkness will bleed into the universe.

Doctor Who

The Echo Chamber Part Two

Written by K.R Jones

The darkness enveloped the Doctor, thick and suffocating, as he tumbled through the void. For a moment, he felt weightless, adrift in a sea of despair, the loss of Sarna pressing heavily on his chest. The storm's chaos echoed in his mind, a relentless reminder of the moment he had failed to save her from falling into the abyss.

Then, with a sudden jolt, he landed hard on a cold, unyielding surface. He gasped, struggling to regain his bearings, and pushed himself up, squinting against the murky twilight surrounding him. The air was thick with otherworldly energy, and strange whispers danced just beyond the edges of his consciousness, calling to him in hushed tones.

"Where am I?" he murmured, his voice almost swallowed by the eerie silence.

As he rose to his feet, the chill of the ground seeped through his clothes, a reminder of the stark reality he now faced. Gone was the warmth and safety of the TARDIS. Now, he stood alone in a vast expanse of shadow. With each step he took, the ground beneath him pulsed like a living entity, reacting to his presence. At the same time, the whispers grew louder, a cacophony of voices merging into an indistinct murmur that resonated with his memories—echoes of laughter, cries of despair, and the distant sound of friends long lost.

"Get a grip, Doctor," he said to himself, shaking his head as he began to walk, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. He had to focus. Sarna needed him, and he wouldn't let her down again.

As the Time Lord ventured deeper into this strange new realm, the environment shifted, landscapes appearing and disappearing as if he were walking through the fragmented pages of a story. Shadows twisted into familiar shapes, and he caught glimpses of places he thought he had left behind: the dark corridors of a Dalek Battleship, the misty hills of Gallifrey, and even the flickering streets of London. Each memory pulled at him, reminding him of every choice he had made—every life he had saved and everyone he had failed.

The whispers became sharper, voices of those he had encountered throughout his long life of one thousand and twelve years.

"You can't save her," one voice taunted, echoing the cold certainty of his past mistakes. "You're just a traveller in time. You can't change what's been lost."

"No!" he shouted into the void, his anger rising like a tide. "I won't accept that! I can find her!"

Then, a familiar voice chimed in . . .

Sarah Jane Smith . . .

"You know, it's funny. You never really get used to it. The people you love . . . they're always leaving."

"You're not a god, Doctor. You can't save everyone," Jamie McCrimmon's voice echoed.

Then the sound of Rose Tyler, long lost but unforgotten.

"I'm not just a soldier. I'm not just a number. I'm more than that, and so are all the people you leave behind."

"You can't just keep moving on, Doctor. Sometimes, you have to face the things you've done." Romana said softly.

Then Martha Jones.

"You're the one who travels alone. You leave a trail of broken hearts behind you, Doctor."

"I was just a temp. But I'm not a temp in your life. I matter."

"Donna . . ." the Doctor whispered, a tear escaping his right eye, but the echoes of his past continued.

"You think you can just change the past? Some wounds never heal," Leela explained.

"You can't keep running forever. You have to look back and see what you've done."

"Pond?" he cried lowly.

"You save the universe, but what about the people in it? What about us?" Ace asked, almost begging for an answer.

"Just stop! Stop!" the Doctor screamed.

And then, as if in response, the ground beneath him began to tremble. The shadows coalesced into a dark mist, swirling around him and pressing in as he stumbled backwards.

Suddenly, a figure emerged from the haze—a woman with short hair. Her face was shrouded in darkness, but the unmistakable glint of bright blue eyes shone through.

"Grandfather," she intoned, her voice echoing with a haunting familiarity. Susan Foreman. "You've come a long way, but this path leads only to despair. She is lost to you now."

The Doctor's hearts raced as he recognised the figure—a spectre of his past, a manifestation of his own guilt.

"No! You're not real!" he spat, anger and fear coursing through him. "I will find Sarna. I will save her!"

The spectre smiled, a chilling grin that sent shivers down his spine.

"Your determination is admirable, but your hearts know the truth. She is entwined in this realm now, part of the shadows you fear. The echoes of your choices linger here, Grandfather, a thousand lifetimes of regret. Can you bear their weight?"

Ignoring her words, the Doctor pushed past the figure, determination surging within him.

"I've faced worse than echoes. I can't let fear dictate my choices."

With renewed resolve, he pressed forward, navigating through the darkness that threatened to engulf him. Each step felt like a battle against the phantoms of his past, shadows that whispered doubts and regrets. He fought against the tide, the images of lost companions flickering like flames in the distance.

Clara . . . Romana . . . River . . . Sarah . . . Rose . . . Susan . . .

Their names lingered in his mind, a bittersweet reminder of those he had loved and lost.

"I'm not losing another person," he vowed aloud, his voice steadying as he calmed his breathing.

Ahead, the landscape shifted again, revealing a cavernous passage illuminated by an ethereal glow. The walls pulsed with vibrant colours, shifting like the very fabric of time itself. The Doctor stepped inside, drawn by an instinct he couldn't explain.

As the Doctor ventured forth, the whispers transformed, coalescing into one more familiar voice.

"Doctor!" it called out, ringing like a beacon in the dark.

It was Sarna!

He could feel her presence, like a thread woven into the tapestry of his being.

"Sarna!" he cried, urgency flooding through him. "Where are you?"

The cavern twisted and turned, leading him through a labyrinth of memories, each corner unveiling a new fragment of his past . . .

Grey hair . . . a black and red cape . . . a long scarf . . . an umbrella . . . converse trainers . . .

And yet, through it all, Sarna's voice remained a constant, guiding him through the shadows.

"Keep going! I'm here! You're close!"

The Doctor pressed on, the echoes of his past trailing behind him, but he refused to look back. He had faced monsters and shadows and would face whatever awaited him in the depths of this realm, too.

"Hold on, Sarna!" he shouted, determination blazing in his hearts. "I'm coming!"

With each step, the shadows began to lift, revealing a path ahead, and he knew he was getting closer. He could feel her presence stronger now, like a lighthouse cutting through the fog. And as he pushed forward, he vowed that he would do whatever it took to bring her back, even if it meant confronting the very shadows that haunted him.

The path twisted and turned, the shadows curling away like frightened animals as the Doctor's determination fueled his resolve. With every footfall, the echoes of his past grew fainter, but the weight of their lessons pressed heavily on his shoulders. Memories of lost companions flashed through his mind—faces full of laughter, joy, and, ultimately, despair. He pushed them aside, focusing instead on the warmth of Sarna's voice guiding him through the murky darkness.

"Just a little further!" Sarna urged, her voice echoing around him, mingling with the low, haunting whispers of the realm. "I can hear you, Doctor. Don't stop!"

As the shadows parted to reveal a vast chamber pulsating with an eerie glow, the air crackled with energy. At the centre stood an altar of twisted stone, ancient symbols etched into its surface. It was a place of power, of sacrifice—a remnant of the Echo Chamber . . . a prison.

The Doctor's hearts raced as he stepped into the chamber, Sarna's presence stronger than ever.

"Sarna!" he called, but the shadows recoiled as if stung, the air thickening with an oppressive force.

Then, the faces of those he had lost flickered in and out of existence all around him—Rose, Donna, Amy, and all the others who had come and gone. They seemed to reach for him, eyes wide with longing and sorrow, their voices merging into a cacophony.

"Doctor!" they chorused, "You can't escape your choices!"

"No!" he shouted, shaking his head. "I won't let you hold me back! I have to save her!"

With a surge of courage, he stepped toward the altar, reaching out to touch the cold stone. As his fingers brushed against it, the shadows surged forward, a wave of darkness threatening to swallow him whole. The Doctor felt himself being pulled into the depths of his own memories, spiralling through time and space, trapped in a whirlwind of regrets and failures.

"Doctor!" Sarna's voice pierced through the chaos. "You can do this! Remember who you are!"

With her words anchoring him, the Doctor focused. He pictured the TARDIS, the familiar hum of its engines, the warmth of companionship. He envisioned the adventures they had shared, the triumphs and the laughter. The darkness swirled around him, but he concentrated on that beacon of light—Sarna.

"Hold on!" he shouted into the void, summoning the full force of his will. "I am the Doctor! And my past will not break me!"

As he declared his identity, a brilliant light erupted from the altar, casting away the shadows that had gripped him. The figures trapped within the stone shimmered and faded, their cries transforming into echoes of encouragement. The chamber shuddered, the air crackling with raw energy as the power of the Echo Chamber began to destabilise. Then, through the chaos, he caught a glimpse of Sarna, suspended in a cocoon of light, her eyes wide with fear but filled with hope. The connection between them flickered like a candle in the wind, but he could feel it pulling him closer, urging him to act. So, with a final push, the Doctor lunged forward, breaking through the barrier of shadows and light surrounding Sarna. He reached out, grasping her hand, and the moment their fingers intertwined, a shockwave rippled through the chamber, the light erupting around them.

"Got you!" he shouted, determination flooding his veins.

Together, they were engulfed in a blinding flash, the shadows screaming as the power of the Echo Chamber began to collapse around them. The chamber walls trembled, and the air grew thick with the scent of ozone and burning energy.

"Doctor, what's happening?" Sarna cried, panic creeping into her voice.

"We're breaking free!" he replied, adrenaline surging. "Just hold on tight!"

As the ground beneath them cracked and the echoes of this unknown realm threatened to pull them apart, the Doctor felt a surge of determination coursing through him. This was not just about survival; it was about Sarna.

"Stay close!" he shouted, his voice ringing with urgency.

The shadows swirled ominously around them, their forms shifting and coiling like tendrils of smoke. Sarna clutched the Doctor's arm, her eyes wide with fear.

"What do we do?"

"We can't let them isolate us!" the Doctor replied, scanning their surroundings.

Just ahead, a shimmering portal flickered in and out of existence—a gateway that might lead them back home. But it was unstable, pulsating like a heartbeat.

"On three, we run!" he declared, determination igniting within him. "One . . . two . . . THREE!"

With a burst of adrenaline, they sprinted toward the portal, the shadows lunging after them with desperate hunger. As they neared the threshold, the Doctor reached into his pockets, fumbling for anything that could help.

"Come on, come on!" he muttered under his breath, desperate to find a solution. "Where's my sonic?"

Suddenly, Sarna stopped short, tugging at his arm.

"Doctor, look!"

The swirling shadows began to coalesce into figures—echoes of the Doctor's past companions, their faces twisted in anguish. Each one a reminder of his failures, of lives lost or irrevocably changed.

"You think you can escape us, Doctor?" the multiple forms hissed, the darkness swirling around them like smoke. "This is only the beginning."

"Stay focused!" he urged Sarna, but the whispers of guilt clawed at his resolve.

"Why did you let us go, Doctor?" one echo cried, the voice of a long-lost friend.

"Focus!" he barked, shaking his head as if to dispel their haunting presence. "Just a bit more!" the Doctor urged, his voice strained as he pushed against the overwhelming force of the storm. "I can do this!"

Pulling out his sonic screwdriver and drawing upon the energy inside him fueled by lives lived and lost and friendships forged and buried, the Doctor let his anger and pain surge forth, channelling his heartache through the screwdriver before converting it into a brilliant, blinding light. The shadows screamed as they were engulfed, writhing and dissolving in the brilliance of the Time Lord's energy. Then, the echoes of his companions faded, replaced by a roaring wind that filled the air.

"Hold my hand, and don't let go!" he shouted again, feeling Sarna's grip tighten as they forced themselves forward.

As they barreled closer toward the portal, the shadows writhed and coalesced, taking form. The prisoner of the Echo Chamber materialised before them, a dark silhouette with a towering presence that seemed to distort the very air around it. Its golden eyes glinted with malice, and its voice resonated like a venomous whisper threading through their minds.

"I am Verax," it intoned, the name cutting through the chaos like a dagger. "Remember it, Doctor, for it will echo through your nightmares for all eternity. You cannot escape me. I will find you. I always will."

With a final leap, the Doctor and Sarna dove into the portal just as it began to flicker out, their bodies hurtling through the void. The world around them warped and twisted, the cacophony of sound replaced by an eerie silence as they raced toward an uncertain fate. Verax's chilling vow, however, lingered in the air like a shadow that refused to fade.

As the Doctor and Sarna hurtled through the portal before landing heavily in a new world, Sarna gasped, clutching the Doctor's arm tightly, screaming.

"Doctor, what was that? What did you do back there? That light—where did it even come from?" She had more questions than she could fit into one breath.

The Doctor adjusted his slightly singed bow tie, his expression flickering between exhaustion and exhilaration.

"Ah, well," he began, his tone somewhere between a lecture and a confession, "imagine a cosmic symphony where I'm both the composer and the orchestra, but someone's thrown me into the wrong key, so I'm ever so slightly out of tune. The Echo Chamber's physics—its timeline warping—pulled me out of my usual harmony with the universe. That disconnect gave me access to . . . let's call it untapped reserves. Temporal energy, the stuff of existence itself, amplified by being out here in this wild, wibbly-wobbly pocket dimension. We're in what is called a nexus of dimensional convergence. Essentially, we've slipped into a pocket of space-time where multiple realities intersect. It's a place where the fabric of the universe is thin, allowing for all sorts of anomalies and echoes from other realms to bleed through. And that portal we stepped through? Think of it like a doorway. We've crossed from one room to the next, but we are still in the same place. Brilliant, isn't it?"

Sarna stared at him, incredulous.

"So . . . you're telling me you weaponised your own life force because this place allowed you to break the rules of our universe?"

"Precisely! Though I wouldn't recommend it—it's a bit like lighting a fire with your own oxygen supply. It's a good way to burn yourself out but not a recommended diet. It can get a bit . . . messy," The Doctor grinned. "But we're alive. And that means there's still hope," he explained, his voice full of urgency.

Sarna furrowed her brow, struggling to process the information.

"So, um . . . we're in some kind of . . . intersection? Like a crossroads in space and time?"

The Doctor nodded, recognising the bewildered look on her face.

"Yes! Exactly! But think of it more like a chaotic crossroads filled with shadows and echoes of the past. We just escaped one of those echoes, but we're not out of danger yet because this room is no different to the last . . ."

"Right," Sarna said, still trying to wrap her mind around it. "But we are safe for now, though, right?"

"For now," the Doctor replied, scanning their surroundings. "But we need to stay alert. The entity we encountered—the prison escapee who calls himself Verax—is still out there, and he won't stop until he gets what he wants."

Sarna's expression hardened with resolve, the confusion fading as she focused on the situation at hand.

"What does he want?"

The Doctor sighed, glancing back toward the swirling light they had emerged from.

"My guess is freedom and power. Freedom from his prison, for starters. And we helped with that one."

"So, how do we stop him?"

The Doctor looked around, taking in their surroundings—a vast expanse of swirling mist and shifting colours that seemed to pulse with otherworldly energy. The atmosphere buzzed with tension, a lingering sense of danger just beneath the surface.

"We need to find a way to re-contain him," he replied, his mind racing with possibilities. "If we can identify exactly what we're up against and why he was in such a highly secured prison, we might be able to neutralise him and put him back where he belongs."

"Right," Sarna said, her voice steady. "But how? I mean, is this place not part of the Echo Chamber?"

"No. What we're standing in is called a fractured time-space realm," the Doctor explained, his tone becoming more urgent. "This place is a byproduct of the Echo Chamber, a chaotic reflection of it. When the TARDIS was pulled apart, it destabilised the very fabric of time and space around us. The entity we encountered must have used that moment of chaos to rip a hole in the dimensional barrier, pulling us into this warped reality."

Sarna's eyes widened as she processed the implications.

"So, the TARDIS breaking apart wasn't just a freak accident; it was part of Verax's plan?"

"Exactly," the Doctor replied, glancing back toward the swirling light they had emerged from. "The Echo Chamber is designed to contain powerful entities, and when we disrupt it, we unleash a force that thrives on confusion and despair. This fractured realm is the result—a breeding ground for chaos and a sanctuary for whatever lurks within it."

Sarna shivered at the thought, her mind racing.

"So, we're stuck in a place created by our own misfortune?"

The Doctor nodded grimly.

"But we can't lose hope. If we can locate the source of our own reality, we may be able to find a way back and put the prisoner back where he belongs!"

"Right," Sarna said, her expression hardening with resolve. "But how do we do that?"

The Doctor took a deep breath, shifting gears into problem-solving mode.

"First, we need to locate any remnants of the Echo Chamber itself. There may also be some residual energy that could point us toward Verax's location. The energy signatures here are faint, but if we can amplify them . . ." He rummaged through his pockets, pulling out a few random gadgets and devices. "I've got a couple of tools that might help. We just need to find a way to amplify the readings. We'll know where to go next if we can track his energy."

Sarna watched him with a mix of admiration and concern.

"And what if he finds us first?"

The Doctor paused, meeting her gaze.

"Then we'll have to be ready to confront him . . . together."

The resolve in Sarna's expression mirrored the Doctor's own as they steeled themselves for the challenge ahead. They were in uncharted territory, but they had each other—a powerful weapon against the darkness looming around them.

"Where do we start?"

"Over there," the Doctor pointed toward a dense cluster of shadows swirling ominously like a storm about to break. "If we can get close enough, I might be able to pick up some readings. Just remember—stay close, and whatever happens, don't look back."

As they moved cautiously toward the dark mass, Sarna felt a chill run down her spine. The atmosphere was thick with anticipation, and she could sense something watching them from the depths of the shadows.

"Doctor," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the low hum of energy. "What if we can't contain him?"

He glanced back at her, his expression unwavering.

"Then we find another way," he paused, grabbing Sarna's hands. "I promise I won't let him take you. Not now, not ever."

The silence was stifling as the Doctor and Sarna crept forward, broken only by the faint hum of energy emanating from the shadows. Every step seemed to echo, swallowed by the thick, otherworldly fog that clung to the ground, writhing like tendrils of smoke around their ankles. The Doctor's hand tightened around his sonic screwdriver, keeping it close but unlit, wary of alerting whatever lay ahead. Sarna moved beside him, her every sense heightened. She glanced at the Doctor, wondering how he could stay so calm in the midst of this eerie landscape, yet a tightness in his jaw told her he was as wary as she was.

"What exactly are we looking for?" she asked under her breath.

The Doctor kept his gaze fixed on the swirling shadows ahead.

"A way out of here and a way back into our reality."

"So, what do we know?"

The Doctor took a careful step forward, his gaze flicking over the shadows coiling like vipers along the walls of the realm. The air grew denser the closer they got to what looked like swirling darkness, giving the tense feeling that the Echo Chamber was alive and reacting to their approach.

"This place . . ." The Doctor's voice trailed off, caught between awe and caution. "The Echo Chamber wasn't merely designed to imprison Verax—it's a layered construct, with interlocking dimensions woven into the fabric of its walls. Think of it as a dimensional tapestry, binding Verax's energy in one direction while suppressing the dimensional fractures it inevitably creates. A prison, yes, but also . . ." He hesitated, searching for the right analogy, ". . . a gateway, in some senses. A kind of interstitial bridge."

"A bridge?" Sarna echoed, confused but intrigued.

"Right. By layering dimensions atop one another, the Chamber isolates Verax's energy, containing it without completely severing its ties to other realms," he explained as if unspooling a paradox. "Normally, these dimensions can't be accessed; they lie dormant like sealed-off rooms. But once disturbed . . ." He glanced around as if sensing Verax's presence nearby. "Once disturbed, those barriers can weaken, allowing reality to 'leak' through. And Verax—it seems—has found a way to exploit that. And we didn't exactly help the situation, either."

Sarna's eyes widened as she took in his words.

"So, he's using the Echo Chamber's dimensional layers to distort reality? Is . . . is that how he managed to destroy Vystron? My home? My people?"

"I'm afraid so. This fractured realm—it's his manipulation of the Echo Chamber's construct, turning it into an advantage." The Doctor's face tightened. "But we must see the hope that this also gives us a means of escape. The interlocking dimensions respond to energy patterns. If I can reconfigure those patterns—confuse them, you could say—it might be enough to breach through in the same way Verax did . . . if only temporarily."

Sarna nodded slowly, a glimmer of hope breaking through her apprehension.

"And you think your . . . gadget . . . can amplify whatever faint energy remains in the Echo Chamber to get us out?"

"Exactly that! Though it'll require precision and a bit of luck. The Echo Chamber responds like a locked vault; every layer has to align perfectly to open, even if only for a second." He held up his sonic screwdriver, eyeing it with renewed determination. "What we need is a signal strong enough to trigger those layers—one that can't be ignored. But as soon as I create that signal, it will alert Verax, like a burglar alarm of sorts."

Sarna looked around at the shadows, the unease in her stomach hardening into determination.

"And Verax won't let us go without a fight, will he?"

"No," the Doctor replied, a grim smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But he's also bound by the Chamber's laws, even if he is manipulating them. If we move quickly enough, we might just slip through before he has a chance to stop us or follow. But I can't guarantee we'll end up in the correct realm . . . But don't panic, because I won't stop trying until we reach your home, okay?" He pulled a device from his pocket before adjusting a small dial on its side, the faintest hum emanating as he locked onto a frequency. "Now, Sarna, this is critical. When I say so, I'll need you to hold this transducer steady while I use the sonic to amplify its resonance with the surrounding energy fields. But stay vigilant—if Verax senses what we're doing, he'll do everything he can to stop us."

"How did that fit in your pocket—"

"Bigger on the inside. Ready?"

Sarna took a steadying breath, her fingers gripping the new device with determination.

"I'm ready, Doctor."

They edged closer to the swirling shadows up ahead. The air grew colder, almost suffocating, as though the Echo Chamber was constricting the oxygen around them. The Doctor held up his sonic, its tip beginning to pulse in sync with the energy surrounding them.

"Now, Sarna! Steady—just like that," he murmured, adjusting the device's settings with feverish precision.

The hum intensified, and a faint light began to cut through the shadows, rippling across the dense fog. The dark mass ahead of them seemed to shudder, momentarily thrown into disarray as if trying to resist the shift.

The Doctor's voice remained calm, though his eyes betrayed a flash of anxiety.

"The dimensions are starting to realign, but only just. We need more time . . ."

Sarna's gaze shifted toward the darkness.

"Doctor, I think . . . I think something's coming."

Out of the swirling shadows emerged an ominous presence, a sliver of movement that coalesced into the towering, twisted form of Verax. He appeared to be a dark, twisted beast, with almost a skeletal figure composed of shadowy, thorn-like structures resembling organic and otherworldly elements. His body was adorned with jagged, spiked branches that jut out in various directions, forming an intimidating, spiny armour around him. His head was an eerie silhouette without distinct facial features, only a faint, sinister glow emanating from where his eyes might have been, adding to his aura of menace. His limbs were elongated and clawed, with hands that appeared sharp and capable of rending anything in his path. The tendrils extending from his back and shoulders moved like living, dark vines, each reaching out like spectral limbs, creating an ever-shifting, ominous shape around him. There was also an unsettling stillness in his stance, as though he was waiting to strike, yet his presence felt infused with unnatural energy, as if darkness itself pulsed through him. His entire figure exuded decay and despair as if he had absorbed the lifelessness of the planet Vaystron, destroying it and carrying the remnants of his destruction wherever he went. His aura was an oppressive, ancient power, a harbinger of devastation and dread.

Then, his voice slithered through the air, chilling the Doctor and Sarna to their core.

"Did you really think you could escape me, Doctor?"

The Doctor's jaw tightened as he glanced back at Sarna, his expression a mix of determination and unease. Verax's silhouette shifted within the swirling shadows, an ever-present reminder of the dark intelligence tracking their every move.

"Stay close," the Doctor whispered, his gaze darting between the shadowed figure and the transducer Sarna held. "We're nearly through . . . if we can hold the signal just a few seconds longer, we might punch through."

But as the energy hummed around them, Verax's presence grew stronger, merging with the fog that thickened and tightened like tendrils, inching ever closer to the duo. His voice—cold, slithering, and unhurried—echoed again through the chamber as though whispering directly into the Doctor's mind.

"Did you really think you could outwit me, Doctor? I know every move you make. You can't hide, and you certainly can't run."

The Doctor swallowed, glancing over at Sarna, who looked back with a mixture of fear and defiance.

"Ignore him. He wants us to question ourselves, to make us second-guess our every move. Don't let him."

Sarna nodded, steadying her hands, but the words left a small, nagging doubt in the Doctor's mind. How did Verax seem to anticipate every decision? It was almost as if Verax wasn't just in the Echo Chamber but connected to it—sensing each dimensional shift and anticipating every frequency adjustment.

"Doctor," Sarna whispered urgently. "I don't think it's just us he's tracking."

The Doctor glanced at her, brow furrowed, when a realisation crept in—something was staring him in the face, but it remained just out of reach.

"Verax, he's not just aware of our movements—he's in sync with the Chamber," the Doctor muttered, his mind racing. "The chamber's dimensional layers . . . he's reading every pulse we create, every move we make, like reflections in a mirror."

Sarna's face paled.

"Then every time we try to align with our own reality—"

"He's one step ahead, tracking each layer shift we generate," the Doctor replied, realising the scope of their problem. He turned to the transducer, adjusting it with newfound urgency. "But if we can confuse him, scramble the readings so they're no longer uniform, we might slip through before he catches on." The Doctor held his breath, giving one final adjustment to the sonic screwdriver. "Get ready, Sarna. When I trigger this, we're going to try an erratic signal pattern—total chaos across every dimensional layer."

She tightened her grip, her eyes flicking warily to the shadows that seemed to throb with Verax's presence.

"And if he catches us before we're out?"

"What we plan should knock him for six, albeit briefly. We'll just have to hope that he's too distracted trying to stabilise himself to notice our escape," the Doctor replied.

The Doctor flipped a switch on his sonic with a steadying breath, sending a jarring pulse through the transducer. An eerie hum filled the air, slicing through the fog with harsh, dissonant notes that disrupted Verax's dark form. The effect was immediate. The shadows recoiled and twisted, and Verax's shape flickered, distorted by the erratic vibrations. The fabric of the chamber wavered, its dark walls thinning, revealing glimpses of other realms—a brief flash of Vaystron's skies, then a glimmer of distant stars.

The Doctor and Sarna were on the edge of breaking through.

Verax's voice screamed, furious and pained, as the Doctor's chaotic pulse disrupted his control.

"You will not leave!" he bellowed, his form lunging toward them, even as the fractured space splintered, opening cracks to other worlds.

"Now, Sarna!" the Doctor shouted, gripping her hand as they bolted for the dimensional seam stretching open ahead of them.

Then, just as Verax's shadow lashed out, the Doctor and Sarna dove forward, and everything went white—blinding, silent, and absolute.

The next thing the Doctor registered was the familiar, damp scent of soil beneath him, along with the faint sounds of nature and wind. He pushed himself up, disoriented but alive. Sarna lay nearby, blinking in the sudden light.

"Doctor?" she murmured, struggling to sit up.

"We did it . . ." he said, looking around in a daze. But even as relief washed over him, an uncomfortable thought nagged at him.

Something wasn't quite right.

The Doctor pushed himself to his feet, his gaze sweeping across the vibrant landscape in disbelief. Where he'd expected a scorched world and charred ruins like before, lush greenery stretched out in all directions, bathed in the golden light of a rising sun. Instead, the wind carried the scent of wildflowers, and distant birdsong floated through the air. Sarna's eyes widened as she took in the scene, wonder and excitement radiating from her. She had dreamt of Vaystron like this—alive, thriving, her people safe, and her world untouched by Verax's ruin. Her chest swelled as she stepped forward, feeling the soil beneath her feet, her heart pounding joyfully.

"Doctor, it's Vaystron. My home," she whispered, her voice choked with emotion. "It's . . . it's like nothing ever happened. It's beautiful!"

But the Doctor held back, eyes narrowed as he scanned their surroundings with quiet suspicion. His posture remained tense, and his movements were deliberate and careful.

"Yes, but, Sarna . . . don't let yourself trust this too quickly," he cautioned, his voice low, almost haunted. "None of this feels right."

Sarna froze, her initial thrill dampened by his tone. She turned to him, confusion and a hint of frustration in her gaze.

"But, Doctor, look at it. The trees, the sky . . . everything is exactly as it was. I can feel it. This is real." Her voice trembled with desperate hope, but the Doctor's wary expression remained unyielding.

He met her eyes, his expression filled with sympathy.

"I know how much this means to you, Sarna," he said gently. "But that's exactly why you need to be careful. This could be Verax's trick—an illusion crafted to keep us here, to make us want to stay. We've seen what he can do."

Sarna's hands balled into fists, her joy giving way to frustration.

"You think everything is a trap," she shot back, hurt flashing in her eyes. "Just for once, can't you let me believe this could be real? That maybe . . . just maybe, we stopped him, and we're seeing my world restored?"

The Doctor's expression softened, and he stepped closer, touching her shoulder.

"Sarna, I wish I could tell you that's true. But Verax isn't the type to let go so easily," he said, his tone gentle yet firm. "If we let our guard down, we could lose everything . . . even each other."

Sarna looked away, fighting back tears as she gazed over her restored home, every fibre of her being yearning to accept it.

"If this is an illusion—if my world is still destroyed—then what's left to fight for?" Her voice cracked, her desperation raw and exposed. "I can't bear to lose it all over again."

The Doctor's gaze softened as he took her hand, his own face a mask of solemn determination.

"Then we'll find the truth together. But if there's any chance this is Verax's doing, we have to face it for what it is," he said, his tone a quiet promise. "I won't let him take this dream from you. Not without a fight."

"You'd do that for me?"

"I'm the Doctor, and there isn't a storm in the universe I wouldn't face head-on!"

Sarna held his gaze for a moment, searching his face before nodding slowly. She took a shaky breath, steeling herself, and looked back at the thriving world around them.

"Alright, Doctor," she whispered, her voice thick with resignation. "But if this is real, if Vaystron really has been restored, we have to fight to ensure it doesn't suffer that fate again, okay?"

"Deal!"

The Doctor and Sarna began walking cautiously through the lush landscape, each step measured as if treading on fragile glass. The vibrant forest around them seemed to pulse with life, too perfect, too vivid. The Doctor's mind raced, calculating possibilities, weighing realities against the impossible. Verax's deceptions were intricate—webs of half-truths and distorted desires, designed to lull even the sharpest minds into submission.

Sarna's gaze flickered between the thriving trees and the Doctor's tense profile. She clung to the hope that her world was indeed restored, fighting against the Doctor's relentless suspicion. But deep down, she felt a chill, a distant sense of wrongness, nagging at the edges of her perception.

"Doctor," she murmured, her voice hesitant. "If this is Verax's doing . . . why make it so beautiful? Why give me exactly what I want?"

The Doctor paused, glancing over his shoulder at her. His eyes were thoughtful, the cogs in his mind spinning faster as he considered her question.

"Because that's how he'd trap you," he replied softly, his voice laced with a grim understanding. "Verax wouldn't break you with fear or violence. He'd tempt you with the very thing you want most, letting your own hopes do the work for him."

As they walked deeper into the forest, the atmosphere shifted subtly. The colours around them grew brighter and more saturated until the green of the leaves seemed almost too green, the sky too blue. Shadows danced in strange, elongated shapes, stretching and curling as though alive, watching.

A sudden chill prickled the Doctor's spine. He stopped abruptly, and Sarna stumbled beside him, looking at him with confusion. His face had gone pale, and his eyes widened as he reached into his pocket and withdrew his Sonic Screwdriver. He held it up, watching the reading on the small screen flash and waver erratically. He frowned, tapping it lightly as if to steady it, but the readings remained chaotic.

"Sarna . . ." he said slowly, his voice almost a whisper. "We're not alone here."

Sarna tensed, instinctively glancing around. She saw nothing out of place—only the pristine landscape stretching in all directions. Yet, beneath the surface, a feeling of being watched settled heavily in her gut, like eyes pressing down from all angles.

"Do you see something?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

The Doctor's gaze moved, following the line of trees. And then, just on the edge of his vision, he saw it—a flicker, a shape-shifting in the periphery, blending with the forest's shadows.

"Not quite see, no," he murmured, his jaw tightening. "But I can feel it. Verax is nearly here, hiding in the cracks of this illusion. He's testing us."

The vibrant colours around them began to pulse as if the world itself was alive and breathing, the forest rippling in unnatural waves. Sarna's heart hammered as she clutched the Doctor's arm, her voice shaking.

"What does he want from us, Doctor? Why not just attack outright?"

The Doctor's face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the landscape.

"Because this isn't just an attack, Sarna. It's a game. He's watching, waiting to see if we believe the lie. If we accept it willingly, we'll trap ourselves here. He'll feed on that acceptance, on our hope and surrender, until there's nothing left of us to fight back."

Sarna swallowed, her gaze steely as she turned to face the shadows stretching around them.

"Well, then he's got another thing coming."

The Doctor gave her a small, approving smile.

"That's the spirit."

Suddenly, the vibrant landscape faltered. Colours flickered as if a projector had momentarily lost its focus. The trees wavered, the ground shimmering, becoming translucent briefly before snapping back to its lush appearance. A faint, sinister laugh echoed in the distance, low and taunting, sending a shiver down Sarna's spine.

"Did you hear that?" she whispered, gripping the Doctor's tweed jacket.

"Yes," he replied, his eyes fixed ahead. "He's testing the boundaries, trying to see if we'll crack."

"How did he even get here? I thought you said we had time while he stabilises?"

"Time inside here, Sarna—oh, it's nothing like back home. It's less like a river and more like, well . . . a rubber band! It stretches, twists, takes detours, and even doubles back on itself. It could take him eleven years to get his bearings and still end up standing alongside us in this bizarre little mock-up world. You see, time here is far more linear than in our universe. It's not nearly as fixed. Instead, it's sluggish and lagging behind—for lack of a better term. It's like reality's running on a dodgy signal—just a tad out of sync with the rest of existence!" He twirled the sonic screwdriver, casting a sidelong glance at her, a glint of caution in his eye. "So, if anything, we've got to be prepared for surprises. Time here could bend, snap, or play catch-up when we least expect it."

Sarna took a deep breath, her determination hardening.

"Then let's show him we're stronger than he thinks."

"Exactly," The Doctor nodded. "But be ready, Sarna. This isn't even nearly over—not by a long shot."

With newfound resolve, they continued deeper into the heart of the illusion, knowing that whatever lay ahead, they would face it together, prepared for any twist Verax might throw their way.

As the duo moved cautiously through the forest, the illusion around them grew heavier, thickening like a fog that clung to their every step. The Doctor's senses tingled with the awareness of Verax's influence pressing down on them like a weight just beneath the surface of reality.

Suddenly, a figure darted between the trees ahead—a brief flash of movement, almost too quick to catch. Sarna inhaled sharply, her grip tightening on the Doctor's arm.

"Did you see that?" she whispered, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes," he replied, eyes narrowing as he scanned the forest. "But let's not give him the satisfaction of panicking, hmm?"

Before Sarna could respond, the figure reappeared, stepping into the light this time—a tall, shadowed form, its features obscured but unmistakably human-like. It looked at them with eyes that glowed faintly, a strange, almost mocking smile spreading across its face.

"Doctor," it called, its voice a distorted echo that sent a chill through Sarna. "Did you really think you could undo me with such feeble tricks?"

The Doctor's jaw clenched, but he forced himself to keep his tone light.

"Ah, Verax! There you are, hiding behind a mask like a cheap magician. Why am I not surprised?"

The figure's smile widened as if amused by his bravado.

"Oh, Doctor, I am no mere illusion. I am inside this world. I am part of it. Every tree, every whisper of wind, every blade of grass . . . all of it, mine to command."

The Doctor stepped forward, shielding Sarna as he confronted the shadowed figure.

"All right, then. I'll bite. What's your game, Verax? Why go to all this trouble?"

Verax chuckled, a low, sinister sound reverberating through the trees.

"Why? Because you intrigue me, Doctor. You and your companion stubbornly refuse to accept the beauty I've created for you. It's almost . . . endearing."

Sarna glared, anger rising in her eyes as she stepped forward.

"Beauty? Do you think this is beauty? It's nothing but a twisted lie. You've stolen my home, destroyed my people!"

Verax tilted his head as if amused by her defiance.

"Ah, but you wanted this, didn't you, little Sarna? It's a chance to see Vaystron whole and thriving. To see your people safe and happy. I merely gave you what you desired."

"Enough!" the Doctor snapped, his voice filled with a rare, cold fury. "You think you can break us with cheap parlour tricks? With dreams spun from hope? You don't understand any race outside your little bubble at all!"

Verax's smile faded, his expression growing darker.

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Doctor. I understand that hope is a blade I can turn against you all. It's what makes you weak."

The Doctor held his gaze, defiant.

"Au contraire, you understand nothing." With a flick of his wrist, the Doctor activated his sonic screwdriver, its high-pitched whine cutting through the air.

The vibrant landscape around them began to waver, flickering like a glitching hologram. For a brief moment, they caught a glimpse of the reality beneath—charred trees, scorched soil, a wasteland stretching to the horizon. Sarna gasped, her heart sinking at the sight. The desolation was all too real, a brutal reminder of the world she had lost. But she steeled herself, gripping the Doctor's arm as she whispered.

"It's just a trick, Doctor. We can fight it."

The Doctor nodded, determination hardening his gaze as he turned back to Verax.

"You can't hold this illusion forever, Verax. Eventually, it'll unravel. And when it does, we'll be ready."

Verax's eyes flashed angrily, and the shadows around them seemed to close in, twisting and writhing like living things.

"You underestimate me, Doctor. This is my domain. I control every thread, every flicker of light and shadow. You cannot escape."

The Doctor smirked, his voice dripping with defiance.

"Oh, Verax, I've escaped worse. And trust me—you're about to regret ever trying to cage me." With that, he turned to Sarna, his voice urgent. "Ready to run?"

She nodded, adrenaline surging through her as she gripped his hand.

"Always."

And together, they plunged further into the forest's depths, the shadows snapping at their heels as Verax's taunting laughter echoed through the trees.

The forest twisted around them as they ran, branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, the shadows thickening with every step. The Doctor's mind raced, plotting their next move while his hand remained firmly in Sarna's, pulling her along relentlessly. Behind them, the trees rustled with unnatural life, a chill that felt almost alive pursuing them.

"Doctor!" Sarna panted, glancing back at the writhing darkness. "Where are we going?"

"Away from here!" he replied breathlessly. "Wherever here actually is."

He halted suddenly, pulling her behind a large tree, his hand instinctively covering her mouth to keep her silent. They stayed still, barely daring to breathe. The forest around them grew unnervingly quiet, and in that silence, a whisper echoed—a slow, mocking murmur that seemed to seep from the air itself.

"I can feel you, Doctor," Verax's voice dripped with malice, disembodied yet everywhere at once. "You're like a spider caught in my web. Run all you want, but every step only draws you closer to me."

The Doctor narrowed his eyes, his expression hardening. He somewhat knew of Verax's tricks—this was a psychological game as much as a physical one, designed to wear them down, to break their resolve. But he wasn't about to let Verax win. Not today.

Sarna shifted beside him, her breath shaky but her eyes determined.

"Doctor," she whispered, "if he's everywhere here, if he can control everything . . . how do we fight that?"

The Doctor's eyes lit up with a hint of mischief, a familiar spark that Sarna had recognised as a sign of some reckless plan forming.

"By finding the weak point. Every web has one—an anchor, a centre that holds it all together. If we find that, we can bring this illusion crashing down."

"But how do we find it?" she asked, gripping his arm. "We don't even know where we are!"

"Ah, but that's the thing about a good illusion, Sarna," he replied, his voice barely above a murmur, "it can't help but mimic reality—just enough to be believable. So if this place is supposed to be Vaystron, then the anchor point must be somewhere significant . . . somewhere Verax knows would tempt us to stay."

Sarna's brow furrowed, realisation dawning.

"The Citadel," she whispered. "It was the heart of Vaystron before he destroyed it. He'd know how much it would mean to me if it were restored."

"Precisely!" The Doctor's grin widened as he looked at her, the gleam of determination in his eyes. "Verax might be clever, but he's not without ego. He'd want to rub salt in the wound, lure us in with something we could never resist." The shadows around them began to stir again, a murky mist creeping over the ground, tendrils snaking between the trees. There was no more time to hide. "Right then," the Doctor said, grabbing her hand. "Hold on tight!"

They broke into a sprint, dodging twisted roots and low-hanging branches as they made their way through the forest. Every step brought them deeper into the illusion, but the Doctor's grip on Sarna's hand was firm, his pace unwavering.

After what felt like an eternity of running, the Doctor and Sarna broke through the dense trees, emerging onto a clearing. And there it was—the Citadel of Vaystron, its gleaming towers piercing the sky like blades of silver, just as Sarna remembered from her childhood. The sight of it took her breath away. She felt an almost physical ache, a mix of longing and loss so sharp that it nearly stopped her in her tracks. But the Doctor tugged her forward, his voice gentle yet insistent.

"It's not real, Sarna. Remember that. Don't let him play with your heart."

She swallowed and nodded, forcing herself to look at the Citadel with fresh eyes. Up close, there was something off. The stone glistened too brightly, the light too golden, and the shadows too deep. It was as if everything had been polished to perfection—a dream version of her world, not the real thing.

The Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver, scanning the structure. The readings were erratic, fluctuating wildly.

"Just as I thought . . . there's an energy field here, holding everything together. It's not stable. He's drawing power from somewhere else to keep it running."

Sarna glanced around nervously.

"So what do we do?"

He met her gaze, his eyes serious but filled with a fierce determination.

"We break it. All of it."

Before she could respond, Verax's voice echoed around them, filled with a venomous, mocking amusement.

"Oh, Doctor, must you ruin everything? I offered you peace, beauty, a world without pain, and yet here you are, determined to destroy it."

The Doctor scoffed, turning to the sound as if Verax were standing right before him.

"Peace built on lies isn't peace, Verax. It's just a prison with pretty wallpaper."

A low, ominous growl filled the air, and the ground beneath them trembled. Shadows rose from the planet like living smoke, circling the Doctor and Sarna, closing in with an eerie silence.

The Doctor lifted his sonic screwdriver again, adjusting the settings, his face a mask of concentration.

"Sarna, when I say 'run,' I mean it. This whole thing is about to go very, very wrong."

"But what about you?" she asked, panic creeping into her voice.

He glanced at her with a reassuring smile and unshakable confidence.

"Oh, I'll be right behind you. I promise."

He pressed a button on the screwdriver, and a sharp, piercing noise filled the air. The Citadel before them began to crack apart, large chunks of illusion peeling away to reveal the bleak, scorched landscape underneath. The world around them rippled, the once-vibrant colours draining into dull greys, the shadows screaming as they twisted and writhed, dissolving into nothing.

"RUN!" the Doctor shouted.

Sarna bolted, her heart pounding as she raced toward the edge of the clearing. Behind her, the Citadel collapsed in on itself, the remnants of Verax's illusion shattering like glass. The Doctor was right behind her, sprinting with surprising speed, his tweed jacket billowing as he moved. Then, just as they reached the treeline, a shadow lunged forward, latching onto the Doctor's ankle and pulling him to the ground. He twisted, his face contorted in pain as he struggled against the dark tendrils wrapping around him, dragging him back toward the remnants of the Citadel.

"Doctor!" Sarna screamed, turning back, her eyes wide with horror.

He looked up, his eyes fierce even as he was pulled deeper into the shadows.

"Go, Sarna! Don't let him get you too!"

But she didn't move. She couldn't. Instead, she stepped toward him, determination blazing in her eyes.

"I'm not leaving you," she declared, her voice unwavering.

The Doctor's expression softened, a flicker of pride crossing his face.

"Let's end this together, Doctor!" Sarna grabbed a fallen branch and swung it at the shadowy tendrils that held the Time Lord hostage, the impact sending a shockwave through the shadows. They hissed, recoiling slightly and loosening their grip. With a final yank, she pulled the Doctor free, and they stumbled back just as the last remnants of the illusion collapsed around them.

The world faded, and everything was in complete darkness for a moment.

Then, as their vision adjusted, they found themselves standing in the middle of a barren wasteland—the true Vaystron, scarred and broken . . . but real.

The forest, the Citadel, the vibrant colours—all of it was gone.

The Doctor released a shaky breath, glancing at Sarna with a small, tired smile.

"That was . . . well, a bit more than I'd planned."

She laughed, a sound filled with both relief and sorrow as she looked over the desolate landscape.

"It's gone. All of it."

The Doctor placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"It is. But the fight isn't over. We still have a chance to change it, though. Rebuild it for real."

Sarna nodded, her gaze hardening as she looked toward the horizon.

"Then let's make sure Verax never gets another chance to destroy anything ever again."

The Doctor grinned, a fierce glint in his eye.

"Oh, absolutely. Now . . . let's go show that shadowy trickster exactly what happens when you mess with the Doctor and his friends."

The barren wasteland stretched before the Doctor and Sarna in a haunting silence, broken only by the faint, unnatural hum that resonated from deep within the planet. The remnants of Verax's illusion lay scattered like ghostly fragments around them, dissolving into dust under the eerie, muted light. Sarna stood beside the Doctor, her heart still pounding, her breathing heavy as the reality of their surroundings set in.

"Doctor," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly, "where is Verax now?"

The Doctor's expression darkened as he pocketed his sonic screwdriver and scanned the horizon.

"Hiding. Lurking. What we just saw was only a projection, a piece of him. But Verax is here—somewhere. He has tainted this entire planet. Every crack in the ground, every shadow . . . they're all extensions of his will."

Sarna shivered, casting wary glances around the desolate landscape. The weight of the emptiness pressed down on her, a silence that felt like it was watching them, waiting.

"If he's hiding, how do we find him?" she asked, steeling herself. "Or . . . is he going to find us?"

The Doctor's eyes gleamed with that characteristic mix of cleverness and resolve.

"Oh, he'll try. Verax loves a game, and he's probably already planning his next move." He bent down, running a hand over the ground, feeling the vibrations that pulsed faintly beneath. "But we have an advantage now. By shattering his illusion, we've disrupted his hold on the planet. He'll be weaker, finally forced to confront us as he truly is."

"And how do we fight him?"

"Well, think of him as a parasite that can't survive without feeding on fear, manipulation, and despair caused by dashed dreams and broken hope."

Sarna swallowed hard, feeling a chill creep down her spine.

"So we take away his food source? We don't give him any of those things?"

"Exactly." The Doctor's voice was soft but firm, his gaze meeting hers with a determined intensity. "We stay calm. We stay strong. And we show Verax that there are some things he'll never be able to control."

As the Doctor spoke, a faint whispering drifted through the air, chilling and taunting, like the wind brushing through hollow bones. The sound grew louder, swirling around them like a sinister symphony of voices. Shadows began to shift at the edges of their vision, forming shapes that flickered and dissolved before they could be fully seen. Sarna clutched her arms in an attempt to ground herself.

"Doctor . . . I think he's found us . . ."

"Yes," the Doctor replied, his voice calm but low. "He has, and he's trying to unnerve us. Stand firm, Sarna. Just remember . . . it's all in your mind. He feeds on fear, and we're not giving him that satisfaction."

The shadows thickened, coiling into dense, black fog that moved like smoke but felt as heavy as tar. It gathered before them, swirling and condensing until a figure began to take shape. First, a pair of eyes—cold, luminous, almost serpentine—stared back at them, filled with an ancient, malicious intelligence. Then a mouth, sharp and twisted, stretched into a wicked grin.

"Oh, Doctor . . ." the figure hissed, its voice a silken whisper laced with venom. "You may have disrupted my illusion, but you've only made things worse for yourself. Now you've come to me willingly."

"You've had your fun, Verax. But I've played this game long enough to know how it ends." The Doctor smirked, his tone sharp and defiant. "You'll lose, and we'll walk out of here free. Now, will you face us or keep hiding in the shadows?"

Verax's form solidified further, a towering, otherworldly shape made of darkness and twisted fragments of the planet itself.

"Face you? Oh, Doctor . . . I'm just getting started," his voice reverberated like thunder as he stepped towards them.

The ground trembled as Verax raised a hand, and the desolate planet began to crack and split, releasing streams of dark energy that pulsed like veins beneath the surface. The landscape seemed to react to his command, bending and warping as if alive.

"Doctor!" Sarna grabbed his arm, panic flickering in her eyes. "What's he doing?"

The Doctor watched the ground with narrowed eyes, his expression tense but focused.

"He's drawing on what's left of this world. He's pulling the last remnants of life from it to fuel his form. If he succeeds, he'll become powerful enough to keep us here indefinitely."

Verax's laughter filled the air, echoing through the landscape as he stretched out his arms, revelling in his growing power.

"You're too late, Doctor. You've stepped into my domain, and there's no escape. This world is mine, and soon, so will you be."

But the Doctor's eyes gleamed with a spark of defiance, a knowing smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. He leaned toward Sarna, speaking in a whisper.

"This is it, Sarna. His overconfidence is our opportunity. He's drawn to power, to dominance—if we show him he doesn't have complete control, it'll force him to act. And that's when we strike."

Sarna's brows knitted together as she looked at the Doctor.

"But how?"

He winked, his tone filled with that same unyielding determination.

"We make him afraid of us."

"We make him afraid of us," the Doctor repeated, his voice steady but his eyes sharp, studying Verax's every movement.

Sarna's heart hammered in her chest as the ground continued to tremble beneath them, the oppressive fog thickening with every passing second. The Doctor's plan was simple: make Verax believe he was winning and in control before hitting him with something he feared. But the question remained: what could possibly frighten an ancient entity like Verax?

"Do you think you can win this, Doctor?" Verax hissed, his voice now a low, guttural growl. "You and your little companion, stranded in this broken world. You can't escape. There is nowhere to run."

The Doctor took a slow step forward, his eyes never leaving Verax's.

"Escape? I don't need to escape. I just need to understand the rules of the game and how to break them."

Sarna could see Verax's patience beginning to crack, his form shifting violently as though agitated by the Doctor's unwavering confidence. The shadows twisted violently around them, stretching and flickering, but the Doctor remained steadfast, his gaze sharp.

"Oh, you think you've won? The TARDIS is destroyed, Doctor. The heart of your precious time machine lies shattered beyond repair. No more tricks, no more time travel. You're trapped here forever," Verax sneered.

The Doctor froze, his eyes narrowing. There it was—the one piece of information that sent a jolt of awareness through him. Sarna caught the subtle shift in his posture, the slight flicker of doubt that flashed across his face. He tilted his head, lips curling into a knowing smile.

"Destroyed, you say? That's funny because I've been in situations like this before. I've faced enemies who tried to destroy my TARDIS—Daleks, Cybermen, Sontarans, heck! Even the Weeping Angels failed miserably. But, let me ask you this, Verax—how do you destroy something that's not entirely there to begin with?"

Verax's form wavered, his confidence faltering for the first time.

"What are you talking about?"

The Doctor's grin widened.

"Time. Time is never linear. At least, not entirely. My TARDIS exists in multiple realities, not just this one. You've cracked the surface of this world—this reality. But you don't realise that you've only broken one thread of the TARDIS's existence. You think you've destroyed it, but you've just shifted it into another layer of time. You can't just destroy something that exists across all of time and space that easily, Verax. You've just pushed it out of reach."

Verax's eyes narrowed, a flicker of disbelief crossing his face.

"You're lying."

The Doctor's voice was calm, but there was a profound certainty in it now.

"I'm not. You see, Verax, the TARDIS isn't just a machine—it's a living, breathing being. You can't break it the way you think you can. You've pushed it out of phase and into a fractured timeline, but it's still there. It's always there. And while you're wasting time trying to manipulate this world, I'm going to bring it back. You've made one big mistake: you underestimated how fluid time really is."

The ground seemed to pause momentarily, the swirling darkness around them stilling as Verax's attention faltered. Sarna could see the hesitation in his eyes, the fleeting moment of uncertainty.

But it wasn't enough.

The fog, now thick and suffocating, closed in around them again, and Verax's voice became a low, seething whisper.

"It doesn't matter. Even if your precious TARDIS is still out there, you're still stuck here with me. I will make sure you never leave. I will make this world your prison."

The Doctor stood motionless, his eyes now scanning the horizon once more. There was no more time to waste. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his sonic screwdriver, holding it in front of him, eyes narrowing.

"Doctor, what are you doing?" Sarna asked, her voice tight with anxiety.

At first, the Doctor didn't answer. He was too focused on the subtle vibrations beneath the planet's surface. The hum, which had been there all along, now seemed to pulse faster and more erratic.

"I'm not just going to fight you, Verax," the Doctor said, his voice quiet, almost reflective. "I'm going to reclaim what's mine. You've made one mistake after another, but your biggest mistake? You've forgotten how time can shift and how space can bend." The Doctor activated his sonic screwdriver, the familiar hum of its energy filling the air. The world seemed to bend for a split second, the space around them warping like a shattered mirror. The ground trembled again, this time not with destruction but with the quiet rumbling of something ancient, something powerful reawakening.

Verax's form flickered violently as if the very fabric of his existence was being torn at the seams. He hissed in frustration.

"What are you doing to me?"

The Doctor smiled.

"I'm not just manipulating the planet anymore, Verax. I'm rewriting it. I'm fixing what you've broken. The TARDIS isn't destroyed. It's out of phase, and you've given me the perfect opportunity to realign its timelines and bring it back to the correct one. You may have cracked the surface of this world, but you can't crack time—not without the help of time itself."

Verax's eyes flashed with a dangerous glow, but the Doctor continued, his voice calm and measured, filled with a strange mix of confidence and regret.

"You should have never underestimated the TARDIS, Verax, because you have just made the biggest mistake of your life." The Doctor flicked a switch on his sonic screwdriver, and the planet itself groaned, the ground shifting once more as time began to bend in on itself.

Sarna looked at the Doctor, her heart racing. There was no way out—at least, not yet. But the Doctor, in his brilliance, had just turned the tables. Verax may have thought he had the upper hand, but the Doctor knew, deep down, that by this point, no force in the universe could truly imprison him.

Not even Verax.

But Sarna had a terrible feeling. If the Doctor was right and the TARDIS was still out there, then the real battle was only just beginning.

The planet seemed to shudder beneath their feet as the Doctor continued to work his sonic screwdriver, the faint hum of the device resonating through the eerie silence. The shadows around them grew more erratic, flickering like dying embers in the wind. Verax's presence was still there, his form writhing and shifting, but something was different now. A crackle of tension, a shift in the balance of power.

"You think this will save you?" Verax spat. "You're playing with forces far beyond your comprehension, Doctor. The power of the Echo Chamber is mine. I am the Echo Chamber, and the TARDIS died at my hands. You cannot fix what is broken."

The Doctor didn't flinch, his eyes fixed on the horizon, his fingers moving deftly over the sonic screwdriver's controls.

"You're wrong, Verax. I understand this better than you could ever hope to. You've manipulated this world, but time itself is more delicate than you realise. It's like a fabric—twist one thread, and the whole thing unravels."

For a brief moment, there was silence, and Sarna could feel the tension building in her chest like the entire planet was holding its breath. She looked to the Doctor, her mind racing. Was this really it? Was the TARDIS really on the verge of returning? Or was this just one of the Doctor's tricks to scare Verax?

Either way, Verax wasn't fooled. His form stretched and twisted, darkness pooling in his eyes.

"You think you've outsmarted me? The TARDIS is gone, Doctor. Gone beyond your reach. You've lost. And I've won."

Sarna could see the anger in Verax's eyes, the desperation fueling his every movement. He was trying to convince himself, trying to hold onto his power. But there was something in the Doctor's eyes, too—something she hadn't seen in a long while.

It was hope.

And that made Verax ever more dangerous.

Suddenly, there was a shift. The ground cracked again, but the cracks were deeper and darker this time, spreading across the planet like a spider's web. The air grew colder and more oppressive, and the space around them began to warp, bending unnaturally. Sarna felt it first—a tug, a pull as if something was trying to rip them apart.

The Doctor's grip on the sonic tightened, his face hardening.

"No," he whispered under his breath. "No, no, no, no, no."

Sarna's eyes widened in fear.

"Doctor—what's happening? What did you do?"

"I—I didn't do this," the Doctor replied, his voice strained. "The TARDIS. She's fighting back."

Verax's laugh echoed through the landscape, his form twisting like smoke in a tempest.

"You think your precious TARDIS is going to save you now? You're nothing without it, Doctor!"

The Doctor's eyes were wide now, a flicker of realisation cutting through the chaos.

"No, Verax, you didn't destroy it. You've reversed it."

Sarna blinked in confusion, not fully understanding.

"Reversed it? What do you mean?"

The Doctor's eyes narrowed as the cracks in the planet spread further, deeper.

"When you fractured this world, Verax, you didn't just break the surface. You broke a link—a vital connection between dimensions. The TARDIS didn't shatter the way you thought it did. It slipped—into a time loop, an endless cycle. You've sent it spiralling back in time, locked in a quantum anomaly."

Sarna felt a chill spread through her chest.

"You mean the TARDIS is . . . stuck? It's—"

The Doctor raised his hand, cutting her off.

"No, no. Not stuck. Just temporarily trapped. It's in a paradox. A self-replicating loop, cycling backwards and forwards, caught in its own timeline. The TARDIS is still there now, but it's bleeding time. It's both now and then. And no one—not even me—can get to it . . . not without the right key."

Verax's expression shifted, a flicker of hesitation in his dark, serpentine eyes.

"What does that mean for you, Doctor?"

"It means I was wrong," the Doctor said, his voice eerily calm, "you've just ensured that we can never leave. The TARDIS is both here and not here, simultaneously existing in two different timelines. But what is worse, Verax, is that you've trapped yourself in the same loop. Because you shattered the reality that connected us to it, your very existence here is tied to that anomaly."

Sarna's breath caught in her throat.

"Wait—are you saying we're all trapped?"

The Doctor nodded grimly.

"Yes. Time is being rewritten as we speak. We are in a moment that has already happened . . . and yet, it has not happened at all. We're caught in the fracture."

The ground rumbled again, louder this time, the dark tendrils of Verax's power curling like a storm around them. His form was almost unrecognisable now, an amalgamation of shadow and dark energy, but the panic in his eyes was unmistakable.

"No. No, no, no!" Verax screamed, his voice raw with frustration. "I did not do this. This cannot trap me! You—you are the cause of this!"

The Doctor grinned despite the chaos swirling around them.

"You thought you were the one controlling time, Verax. But time is not yours to bend—not completely. I am the one who bends time, Verax. And now, we're both in the same trap."

The world around them began to warp further, the sky above flickering between realities, each shift tugging at Sarna's very sense of being. She felt like she was falling through time itself, each moment flashing by faster than the last. It was dizzying, disorienting—and terrifying.

Sarna turned to the Doctor, her voice trembling.

"How do we get out of this, Doctor? How do we escape?"

The Doctor's face softened, his eyes filled with an intensity she had never seen before. He opened his mouth to speak, but the landscape around them twisted violently before he could, the air crackling with energy. They were no longer in a barren wasteland. The horizon was shifting—changing—as if the planet itself were being torn apart at the seams. Then, through the swirling chaos, the unmistakable sound of the TARDIS grinding through time reached their ears.

Sarna's heart skipped.

The TARDIS.

It was close.

But—

The Doctor's eyes went wide.

"We don't have much time. It's not fully here yet, and if we don't act quickly, we'll never leave this loop." The tension was unbearable. The Doctor moved swiftly, adjusting his sonic screwdriver again, the air around them crackling with energy. "I'm going to bring it back. I'm going to get us out of here. But, Verax," the Doctor's voice grew low, almost menacing, "you're coming with me. You're going to see the true cost of meddling with time."

Verax's form shrieked as the TARDIS roar grew louder, pulling them back towards a new reality. And yet, even as the Doctor's grin widened, a nagging feeling gnawed at Sarna's gut. Time was broken, fractured—and the true price was yet to be paid.

As the TARDIS's groaning, time-warping hum grew louder, the reality around the threesome continued to tear and reshape, distorting into unfamiliar, fragmented spaces. Sarna's feet no longer felt on solid ground as the planet seemingly began to fold in on itself, swirling and folding like a piece of crumpled paper, knocking her off balance. The Doctor's eyes darted around, his mind working faster than Sarna could follow. He was preparing for something—something huge.

Verax's form lurched forward again, his shadowy essence warping into something even darker and more oppressive as if the very air itself were bending to his will. Then, his voice reverberated with the weight of an ancient power.

"You think you understand, Doctor?" Verax sneered. "The Echo Chamber wasn't just a prison but a containment field—a containment designed for something far more dangerous than even you can comprehend. Do you think you can use my past against me?"

The Doctor's face tightened.

"I don't think I understand, Verax. I know I do. And you've been lying to me, haven't you?"

For a moment, Verax faltered, his form flickering as if the sheer weight of time was starting to take its toll. He recoiled as though the very idea of being caught in the trap of his own creation was too much to bear. But then the shadows surged, and Verax was once again the towering, malevolent entity he had been since the beginning.

Sarna's mind spun.

"What's going on, Doctor?" she demanded, panic creeping into her voice. "What is the Echo Chamber . . . Really?"

"The Echo Chamber was meant to trap Verax for eternity. It's not just a prison; it's another dimension designed to hold beings like Verax, beings who are capable of bending the very fabric of space and time, even if they don't know it yet. It was built by the ancient Guardians of the Time Lords, a final measure to ensure entities like Verax can never escape." The Doctor's voice was strained but firm, his knowledge of the Echo Chamber finally bleeding through. "You were imprisoned there for a reason, Verax. Not just for your time manipulation but because you're an anomaly. A parasite. A parasite who feeds on fear, chaos, and destruction disguised as hope and dreams."

Sarna's pulse quickened as she realised what the Doctor was saying. Verax wasn't just an entity of darkness; he was unnatural. He was something that the fabric of time itself had been designed to expunge.

The Doctor's eyes locked with hers.

"He doesn't belong in our universe. A power like his never has. He's an anomaly, a rift in time. He should have never escaped."

Sarna's breath caught.

"But he did. He even claims to be the Echo Chamber. But . . . how?"

The Doctor's gaze hardened, his mind flashing back to an old discarded memory of the chaos of the battle for Vaystron.

"The Echo Chamber was supposed to be a one-way gate. Once Verax was locked inside, there should have been no way out, an oversight made by the Time Lords themselves. Verax then found a way to exploit the instability of the universe itself. He didn't just escape—he shattered the boundaries of the Echo Chamber, manipulating the very time-space continuum. Verax didn't just destroy Vaystron. Verax is from Vaystron!"

Sarna's mind reeled.

"He can't be! He . . . But, but why? Why Vaystron? Why destroy his home planet?"

"Because," the Doctor said grimly, "he didn't just escape the Echo Chamber, Sarna. He used it. The destruction of Vaystron was part of his plan—his test—to see if he could collapse a whole planet's existence into that fractured space. He wanted to recreate the Echo Chamber—everywhere. He tried to pull the entire planet into his own version of that void. A place where time breaks down and nothing is ever truly real. Where he could be the master of everything."

Sarna looked over at Verax, who was shifting violently between moments, like a spectre who couldn't quite settle into reality. It was as though his very existence was unravelling.

"It's not just that he's broken the world. He has almost broken time itself, too."

A surge of understanding hit her.

"That's why the TARDIS is caught in a loop! The fabric of time has been distorted! Everything that's happened is a consequence of his escape, and now we're caught in the same fracture!"

The Doctor nodded, but his focus never wavered from Verax.

"Exactly. He's not just manipulating the present. He's trying to rewrite all of time, pulling the past and future into his control. That's why we're here, Sarna—why we're trapped. And that's why we need to stop him . . . now."

But just as the Doctor raised his sonic screwdriver, trying to lock onto the TARDIS's time anomaly and regain control of the situation, something unexpected happened.

Verax hissed, his form warping in an unsettling, unnatural way.

"You think you can stop me, Doctor? You can't stop time. I have become time. I am time."

There was a sudden, sharp crack in the air—a rupture of power so violent that it pushed Sarna and the Doctor to their knees. The ground beneath them groaned and split open, and the sky above warped, flickering between timelines.

"No!" the Doctor cried, scrambling to his feet. "Sarna, we need to—"

But Sarna was staring at Verax, and her face went pale.

Something in the air shifted.

Right behind Sarna, a crack appeared in the fabric of reality, a swirling rift that seemed to open directly into the heart of the Echo Chamber.

"No . . ." Sarna whispered, her voice catching in her throat.

Then the Doctor saw it—Sarna's own reflection—no, not a reflection—another version, standing in the rift. The very core of the Echo Chamber had torn open, and in that crack, there stood a second Sarna—but different. Her eyes were hollow, her expression twisted in an unsettling smile.

The Doctor felt a rush of realisation.

"Sarna! No! Don't—"

But it was too late.

The rift closed with a snap, and the second Sarna disappeared.

"Doctor, what was that? What was that?" she cried breathlessly.

The Doctor's face was a mask of horror as he finally realised the truth.

"You. You're connected to the Echo Chamber. And it seems you always were. Verax has been manipulating your timeline. Your whole life. This whole time, he has been pulling the strings."

Sarna's breath quickened.

"What are you talking about? How—"

The Doctor's eyes softened as he looked at Sarna, but his voice held a grim urgency. He took her hands, his grip steady but his eyes dark, brimming with knowledge he had long avoided sharing.

"Sarna," he began, his voice a whisper. "You're connected to Verax because . . . because he crafted you, in a sense. Not just at this moment, not just in this place. Your entire existence—your memories, your life, Vaystron—it's all been interwoven with his influence."

Sarna staggered back, shaking her head.

"No, that's not possible. I would know! My life, my family, everything I've done—" Her voice cracked, trailing into silence. Tears shimmered in her eyes as her mind raced, grasping for memories she knew were real but now felt thin as if unravelling at the edges.

The Doctor swallowed, searching for the right words, his own heartbreak veiled behind his calm, determined gaze.

"Verax embedded a fragment of himself within you, deep within the fabric of your timeline. Vaystron—your planet, your people—they were all held within his grasp. Your whole life was part of his manipulation, an illusion made of real matter and memories but orchestrated by him before the Time Lords banished him to the Echo Chamber. He needed an anchor, Sarna. He needed you."

"Why me?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Because you were the perfect vessel. Verax could touch your timeline, shifting and manipulating it like a thread in a loom. He created every moment of doubt and every challenge to weaken you. But more importantly, you were the key, Sarna. You were the one being that could open the Echo Chamber fully and free him from the prison the Time Lords had made him. He destroyed Vaystron before you became a sentient being. The Time Lords locked him up, not realising that the destruction of Vaystron was done to hide you . . . his answer to freedom. Finding you would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. But then I arrived, and I took you into the Echo Chamber, awakening its full potential and ultimately releasing Verax because your being inside the Chamber was literally the same as inserting a key into the front door of a house. The Time Lords are gone now, so this all happened a very long time ago. I came along and set Verax's plan in motion without realising it. But during that time in between, you forgot your purpose, and your subconscious built a whole life for you on Vaystron. Then you were found by the lasting survivors, and the rest is history . . ."

The truth struck her, hollowing out her chest. She pressed her hand to her heart as if feeling for something real beneath her ribcage.

"But . . . if he crafted me, then . . . who am I?"

"You're you, Sarna." The Doctor's tone was firm. "You're real. He may have shaped your history, but you—you are more than his shadow. You're the reason we have a chance to stop him. And we can, Sarna. We can end this—but it will come at a price."

She met his gaze, the unspoken words clear between them. Her hands trembled as she realised what he was saying.

"If I'm the anchor . . . if I'm his connection to this world and this universe . . . destroying him means . . ."

"Yes." The Doctor's voice cracked. "Destroying him means unravelling your own timeline. Vaystron will cease to exist. You will cease to exist." The Doctor's hands tightened around hers as if trying to ground her in the reality that was slipping through her fingers. "But you'll be free, Sarna. And you'll save so many others from the same fate."

Sarna looked around, the barren wasteland around her a bleak, twisted mirror of what Vaystron had once been. Memories of her life flooded her mind—her family, her friends, her home. All of it was slipping away, the weight of Verax's manipulation unravelling with every second. But this was her choice now, her moment of agency in a life that had been anything but her own.

"Doctor . . . will you remember me?"

"Always," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll carry you with me, Sarna, always."

Sarna took a shuddering breath and nodded, a determined glint in her eye.

"Then let's end this."

With a nod, the Doctor pulled his sonic screwdriver out and pointed it at the heart of the wasteland. The ground trembled, the air crackling with energy as the Doctor began channelling the Echo Chamber's raw power. Around them, time itself began to shatter, flickers of timelines blurring and merging.

Verax's dark figure loomed closer, his voice echoing with a shriek of desperation.

"No! You can't do this. You're nothing without me!"

Feeling the last remnants of Vaystron flicker within her, Sarna stared him down with a calm resolve.

"I may have been nothing but a pawn in your game, Verax, but I am everything to my people's future!" She raised her hands, reaching towards a tear in reality that glowed before her, something only she could see until she tore it open wide. The energy then swooped down and surrounded her very being.

The Doctor stepped back, watching as Sarna's form began to glow—the energy of her timeline folding in on itself, breaking the bonds that tied her to Verax.

Then, with a final, defiant cry, she shattered the illusion, and Verax let out a scream that echoed across the fractured landscape.

The planet around them crumbled, and with a final flash of light, Sarna, Verax, and Vaystron faded and dissolved into stardust.

When the light faded, the Doctor stood alone in a void of nothing but darkness. Emptiness stretched around him, and his hearts were heavy with the loss of Sarna—his companion who had given her life for the universe's freedom.

Then, in the silence, a hum filled the air—the soft, familiar hum of the TARDIS, finally free from the time loop of destruction. As he left the void and stepped into the TARDIS, the Doctor held one last thought for Sarna and Vaystron, a memory he would carry with him across all of time and space, honouring the lives that had once been . . .

THE END