The Chamber had grown colder with time—or perhaps it was just Mattheo who had changed. The dim light of his wand illuminated the grotesque shapes of coiled snakes carved into the walls, their hollow eyes seeming to watch his every move.

It had been years. Too many.

As a child, this place had felt like an adventure, a secret world he shared with his father. Back then, it had been their domain, where curiosity outshone fear, and his father—always so controlled—had seemed almost human.

Now, it was just a nightmare.

Mattheo exhaled slowly, his breath fogging the cold air. “Why am I even here?” he muttered, his voice echoing faintly.

The silence answered him.

He could feel the memories pressing in: his father’s commanding voice and the boyish laughter he hadn’t realized he’d lost. But those days were gone, swallowed by the shadow of what his father had become and the burden of what the Chamber now represented.

Mattheo’s free hand clenched into a fist. “You’re not him,” he told himself, the words sharp, almost defiant. “You’ll never be him.”

The Chamber gave no reply.

After what felt like hours, he turned on his heel and made his way back toward the exit, his footsteps quickening. He couldn’t stand the stillness any longer, the weight of the place suffocating him.

His mind was still tangled in memories when a voice pulled him sharply back to the present.

“You were in there.”

He froze. Slowly, he turned to face you. You stood just beyond the archway, your arms crossed, a mix of curiosity and concern etched on your face.

“Why?” you asked simply.

Mattheo let out a shaky laugh. “Would you believe me if I said I don’t know?”

Your brow furrowed. “You don’t just wander into the Chamber for no reason, Mattheo.”

He looked away, the roguish charm he usually wore like armor slipping. “Guess I thought I’d find something.”

You took a step closer, your expression softening. “And? Did it help?”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. “No,” he admitted finally. “But seeing you here... that helps.”