As Havon approached the strange apparition, it began to convulse with increasing vigour until abruptly halting once it was right before him.

"You're using my memories, aren't you?" he whispered to it, inspecting its zombie-like figure.

"I never look at him in the eyes, so I don't know what color they are, is that why they're missing?" he asked, staring deeply at the two bloody orifices where Gregory's eyes should've been.

Havon reached out his hand to try and pull out the knife in its neck.

However, the apparition moved back hesitantly, almost as if it were afraid of his touch.

"And despite how small he always seemed, he's a lot bigger than this. My memories aren't accurate, and I'm aware of that," he murmured before approaching the creature once more.

Havon was under no illusion that he was completely sane, nor did he expect himself to be. With the life he had lived, this was the only way he could've survived... to live a life filled with delusions.

"You asked me why I killed him, we both know the answer to that. Now tell me, what are you exactly?" he asked before taking three quick strides, his movements so fast and fluid that they seemed like a single advance.

He swung at the apparition, and just as he had expected, his hands went through it.

It wasn't real, merely a figment of his mind.

"So you aren't even a ghost or a demon... just an illusion," he whispered, sort of disappointed.

"I suppose I win," he continued, before turning around, expecting the world around him to revert back to how it had been before the fog had infected him.

As expected, the environment began to morph, however, this time he found himself in a bathroom- his family home's bathroom.

There was blood on the floor and the walls, and he could hear someone humming a familiar tune behind him.

Albeit the blood, the bathroom was spotless, so clean that he could see his reflection on the porcelain surfaces. So shiny, that he could see the figure of the person in the bathtub behind him.

"No, this isn't my memory; I don't remember this," Havon whispered, his heart beating frantically.

"Honey... look at me," a voice called out, its cadence soothing, like an angel.

"No, I forgot about this, it shouldn't be here," Havon replied, his eyes darting around the room frantically. He searched for the door, trying his best not to look at the creature in the bathtub. However, with each passing second, the bathroom seemed to shrink.

"Why didn't you help me? Why did you leave me?" the voice asked, as Havon noticed bloodied arms embracing him from behind.

He could feel the creature breathing down his neck, its body almost a little warm against his.

"Get away from me, you aren't real!" he shouted, before stumbling forward. At this point, he was hyperventilating, his eyes were wide open in shock, and his body tremored in fear.

The creature got out of the bathtub, it had the figure of a woman, its body slender and pale.

Her hair was platinum blonde, and despite the rest of her body being wet, it remained dry, rolling down to cover her breasts.

"Stop this now!" Havon shouted at her, as she approached.

Her face was beautiful, but that's all he could describe it as. It had no facial features and was slightly blurred. Despite all this, he could tell that she was beautiful, even more than his current vessel.

"Why did you let me do this alone? You said you loved me," she whispered, holding out her wrists.

Havon could feel his mind slowly fracturing, as if another presence were attempting to break out.

The closer she got, the faster he could feel his mind's integrity slipping. Soon, his body no longer responded to his commands and instead became a slave to the shrivelled existence he had locked away so many years ago.

~We agreed that you're useless, so why are you trying so hard all of a sudden? If you don't stop this foolishness you'll get us both killed,~ he argued with himself.

This was why he had tried so hard to forget about this woman. He always seemed to fall deeper into insanity whenever she was involved in anything.

"Come, join me," the woman whispered, a razor blade appearing in the palm of her hand as she stretched it out towards him.

At this point, she was kneeling in front of him, as he tried to get deeper into the corner he was huddled against.

"It's not too late," she continued, placing the razor blade in his hand before lifting it up to his face.

"No, don't do it, you idiot. She's not real!" Havon shouted, though his body would not listen.

With her hands on his, the razor blade came to his neck, and he could feel the cold steel slowly digging in.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! You imbecile, you weak piece of shit, when did you get so strong?" he strained to say, struggling with himself to push away the razor blade.

"Look, If you stop, I promise to bring her back once I'm a god," he shouted, right as the razor blade nicked his skin and a line of crimson rolled down his neck.

Suddenly... his hands stopped, and a moment later, he felt his fractured mind slowly piecing itself back together. The strange presence that had invaded his body disappeared with this.

In that instant, his hands passed through the woman's, revealing her ethereal nature.

"Great, now I'm in a bad mood," Havon spat, spite tainting his tone, before slashing the razor blade at the apparition.

Both the blade and the ethereal figure disappeared, and the bathroom landscape slowly disintegrated until all that remained was the darkness of the earth prison he had been in earlier.

The fog seemed thicker than before, and he could just barely make out strange figures whispering into the ears of everyone there. 

"I'm done, where's my prize!" Havon shouted as he approached the crimson light emanating from the centre of the prison.

He swatted away whatever phantoms came in his path, freeing a few of the prisoners who had been under their trance. Still, they only got temporary respite, as other phantoms were fashioned from the fog, and began whispering into their ears once more.

"You, I passed the trails. Where is the soulflame?" Havon demanded once he reached the miniature crimson sun at the centre of the room, his tone betraying the anger that had boiled within him.

Seeing that woman had put a sour taste in his mouth. And he had no doubt he would be having nightmares about her tonight.

[Co-congratulations, please place your hand on the halo to proceed to the inauguration room] a voice echoed from the miniature sun, confusion apparent in its tone.