Iestyn Atkinson

The world around him felt like it was unraveling, coming apart at the seams just as he was. Iestyn Atkinson lay among the shattered remains of the mirror, his body trembling, his breaths shallow and ragged. A deep, excruciating pain radiated through every inch of him, as though unseen hands were tearing him apart piece by piece. His limbs felt ice-cold, his veins frozen with something far worse than mere agony—it was emptiness, a vast, hollow void where his soul had once been. He could feel it, shattering bit by bit, slipping further away with every passing second. A part of him hovered in the space between life and death, neither belonging to the world of the living nor fully claimed by the abyss. His fingers, too weak to close into a fist, twitched against the broken glass as another sharp wave of pain coursed through him. His body was failing, his mind drowning in the quiet, creeping void that threatened to consume him entirely. Perhaps it was better to let go. To stop fighting. But just as the last sliver of strength began to fade, something shifted. A presence. Distant, yet unmistakable. Through the blurred fragments of light and shadow, he saw them—a lone figure standing just beyond the fractured remains of his reflection. Their form was indistinct, blurred by the haze of his failing vision, but they were watching him. Waiting. Iestyn’s breath hitched. Were they here to help him… or to hasten his end? He could not tell. And the uncertainty sent a chill deeper than the one already creeping through his bones. (you are the person approaching him, and you can choose why you are there. You can also choose your name and gender.)