"Lies... lies... lies... lie... li..."
A boy murmured softly, sitting alone in a space swallowed by absolute darkness. No light, no shape, no sound—only his broken voice and the quiet, rhythmic sobbing that echoed in the void.
He seemed as if he had been there forever.
His face was barely visible. Only the faint outline of his nose and cracked lips emerged from the gloom. His lips were dry and torn, as though he hadn't tasted a drop of water in days—maybe longer.
Tears streamed down his cheeks like drops of glass. Strangely, they glowed—faintly luminescent, like pearls—despite the absence of light. They shimmered with beauty, even in such sorrow.
Then, a voice stirred the silence.
"Do you regret your decision?"
It was deep, resonant, yet warm—an odd comfort woven into its haunting tone.
The boy looked up. There was no one, nothing. But he knew—this voice did not belong to any ordinary being.
His eyes, glowing softly with an emerald-red hue, welled with more tears as he whispered, voice as smooth and sweet as honey,
"Who are you? Why am I here? Where is this place...?"
The voice chuckled—softly, almost playfully.
"Ah, questions, questions... Like flames dancing in the cold. So eager, so bright."
"We have all the time in the world, little one. No clock here. No beginning, no end."
Then came the words, slow and laced with dark beauty:
"You may call me Mr. Liar. I am the god of lies and manipulation—
the whisper behind the truth,
the shadow beneath the oath,
the smile inside the mask."
The boy blinked.
"A god...? Are you really a god?"
"Yes," the voice answered gently.
"A real god. Forgotten, perhaps... but real enough to listen. Real enough to speak. Real enough to bargain."
"Then tell me—why am I here?" the boy asked again, his voice firmer now.
The air grew colder. The god's tone shifted—graver, more distant.
"You are in the World of Nothingness. A place beyond time and space. A place for those deemed too dangerous, too powerful, too... unpredictable."
"This is where gods bury their fears. Here, we do not die. We unravel."
A pause.
"Even I do not know why you were cast here. But I know this: only those who frighten the divine are sent into the void."
The boy's breath trembled. He clutched his chest.
"Then… can I leave?"
Mr. Liar's voice curled slowly like smoke, teasing.
"Oh, now you ask the true question."
"Leaving the World of Nothingness is no simple feat. Freedom always comes with a price."
The boy swallowed hard, heart pounding. What price? How much must I pay? he wondered.
The god's voice softened, almost intimate:
"To escape, you must become part of me… and I part of you."
The boy blinked, confused.
"Part of you? What do you mean?"
"Our souls will intertwine. Pieces of you will live within me, and pieces of me will live inside you," Mr. Liar explained.
"A bond forged by necessity, a merging of essence."
His mind spun. If I give part of myself away… will I still be me? The thought tightened his chest.
Mr. Liar's voice turned playful but edged with danger.
"I hear your doubts. Your fears. Your questions—even those you hide deep inside."
He whispered, "I see your thoughts as clearly as if you spoke them aloud."
The boy stiffened. He can read my thoughts? A cold shiver ran down his spine.
He looked down at his trembling hands, ashamed. Can I trust him?
"What will I lose?" he finally asked, voice small.
"Your memories, perhaps," the god said softly.
"Your voice, your kindness, your pain… all woven into my being. And from me, you will carry shadows—secrets and lies to protect you in the world you return to."
The boy's heart thundered. If he takes parts of me, what remains? Am I still whole?
"So, we become two halves of the same whole?"
"Exactly," Mr. Liar said with a cruel smile.
"Neither complete without the other. Like light and shadow—forever bound, forever apart."
The boy's thoughts raged. Will I become a lie? Will I lose myself completely? Or is staying here worse?
Suddenly, the god's voice pierced through his doubt:
"You wonder if I deceive you. Wise to question—for I am the god of lies. But consider—what choice do you have? Remain forgotten here, or risk becoming something more?"
The boy closed his eyes. His glowing tears burned like stars in the dark.
"If I say yes, will I ever be free? Will I still be me?"
Mr. Liar's voice dropped to a whisper:
"Freedom is never without chains. But you will choose who you become."
He opened his eyes, shining with fierce determination.
"I accept your deal."
"Then close your eyes," the god whispered, "and feel us weaving together—the lies and truths entwining. You are no longer alone."
The god's voice echoed once more, soft but urgent, whispering words the boy could not grasp. They slipped through his mind like smoke—vague shapes of meaning just beyond reach.
Then—silence.
A distant sound stirred the dark. Voices—soft and muffled, like echoes underwater.
Slowly, the boy became aware of pressure around him. Warmth. A strange, floating sensation. Then, pain—sharp, cold, bright. The world pressed in on him like too much light in a place that had never known it.
He couldn't open his eyes—not fully—but flashes of brightness broke through his eyelids like lightning behind thin skin. He twitched, flinching at the noise and light. The air felt thick and too large for his tiny body.
A rhythmic beep echoed near his head. The scent of antiseptic stung his nose. There were voices—closer now:
"He's breathing on his own."
"Get the monitor ready. BP's stable."
"Poor thing… he looks exhausted."
Then another voice. Softer, trembling—his mother.
"My baby… you came back…"
Something warm and soft wrapped around his tiny fingers. He couldn't grip it, but the warmth reached into him like sunlight after a long, frozen night.
He couldn't understand the words—not the way he once did—but he felt them. Each voice carried emotion: concern, relief, love, and awe. And from deep within him, something stirred—old and ancient, far too vast for his small body.
The boy didn't cry. He didn't scream. But his faint heartbeat whispered I am here.
The light no longer burned. It welcomed him.
The world was loud. The world was bright. The world was real.
And yet—somewhere within him, beneath the newborn skin and tiny bones—he could still hear the god of lies humming softly:
"You are not alone."
This is just the beginning ...