The door opened.
And the world changed.
Not dramatically. Not with exploding light or thunderous sounds.
Just… changed.
Like stepping from one room to another, but suddenly the gravity is different, the air is different, even the way the light falls… is different.
The room before us was empty.
No furniture. No decorations. No sign of life.
Just cracked stone walls, a wooden floor riddled with holes, and—
A cabinet.
A large cabinet stood in the center of the room.
Nearly touching the ceiling, its width covering almost half the wall. Its wood was dark—not dark from dirt, but dark as if it absorbed every photon that touched it.
There were carvings on its surface. Symbols I had never seen—geometric yet organic, like living mathematics. The lines moved… or maybe it was my eyes playing tricks. I couldn't be sure.
And the red light came from the cabinet's gaps.
Blinking. Pulsating. Like a heartbeat.
"Ziyan," Sopia whispered, her voice trembling. "What is that?"
"I don't know."
We stepped inside. The door behind us didn't close—but somehow, I felt it would. Soon.
The floor creaked beneath our feet, a sound too loud in a room too silent.
"Should we… should we open it?" Sopia asked.
"No."
"But—"
"We don't know what's inside."
"Exactly." She looked at me. "Because we don't know, we have to open it. If we turn back now… the questions will remain. Forever."
She was right.
I hated to admit it, but she was right.
Unanswered questions are worse than frightening answers.
We stood before the cabinet.
The closer I got, the more I felt something radiating from it. Not heat. Not cold.
Pressure.
Like standing deep underwater, where water pushes from every side but you can still breathe—only every breath feels heavier.
"All right," I said finally. "We open it together."
Sopia nodded.
We stood on either side of the cabinet. My hand on the left handle, hers on the right.
"One," Sopia whispered.
"Two," I continued.
"Three."
We pulled together.
The cabinet door opened.
The pressure shifted immediately. Denser. Closer. The air felt like holding back something unwilling to be freed.
An aged book lay right in the center. Its color wasn't black, but the absence of color. Light bending away from its surface, refusing to obey physics.
Symbols on the cover rotated slowly.
Sopia unconsciously stepped closer. Her movements slight, but there was a strange attraction following her steps. I felt the same—the subtle pull at my spine, like gravity pulling the wrong way.
No words needed to be said.
Her hand rose. Hesitated for a fraction of a second. Then touched.
The cover felt alive.
Light exploded.
——• ☽ ✦ ☾ •——
Not ordinary light.
Light with mass. With sound. With 'will.'
Red light burst from the book's cover like water breaking a dam. But not water—it was thicker, more alive, like blood flowing from a wound too deep.
I was pushed back, my back striking the wall. Sopia was flung the opposite way, her body hitting the wooden floor hard.
"SOPIA!"
I tried to get up, but the light filled the room too fast. Like thick fog moving with a purpose, searching—
Us.
The light wrapped around my legs. Cold. Too cold for something red.
I tried to kick it, but it was like kicking smoke—nothing solid, yet still there, still gripping.
"ZIYAN!"
Sopia grabbed my hand, her fingers clutching my wrist with desperate strength.
But the light was stronger. Its pull dragged us, forcing the book cover to open wider. In an instant, we were sucked inside. The book was no ordinary object but a door. A portal. A hole into—
I didn't have time to finish the thought.
Because the world exploded into light.
And then darkness.
And then—
——• ☽ ✦ ☾ •——
BRAAK.
My knee hit the ground.
The earth was hot.
Heat slowly seeping in, not to destroy, but as a warning that this place was no habitat for humans.
Sopia fell beside me. Her breath came ragged—her lungs protesting air not meant for them.
I forced her to stand.
"Sopia."
She didn't answer.
Her eyes pierced far ahead—and froze.
I followed her gaze.
This world was like a nightmare too sure of itself.
Dark red sky roiling, layer upon layer moving like thick liquid shaken. Orange flashes struck from behind—no lightning, but cracks of light bursting from something hotter and fiercer inside that sky.
The black earth beneath me was cracked—red light glowing from fissures like veins of magma flowing through a giant planet's body. Each step raised fine obsidian dust that sparkled with tiny glimmers from the fractured sky.
The air…
was unfit for humans.
Each breath felt like inhaling hot smoke mixed with sulfur—my body reacted with biological alarms I won't list one by one.
In the distance, towering stone slabs rose like ribs of an ancient creature half-buried. Some cracks still glowed faintly, as if the beast wasn't fully dead.
And among those stone ribs…
movement.
Something rose from the shadows.
Something that shouldn't move so fast.
The creature stepped into the red light:
Just a little over a meter tall.
Its skin like burning black stone, cracks glowing with embers within.
Muscles moved beneath that hard skin like organic machinery.
Its eyes were dull yellow dots that didn't merely see—but judged. Locked on. Decided.
A real predator.
Sopia grabbed my arm. "Zi—"
"Don't speak."
Not a threat.
Information to save lives.
I pulled her behind a large rock. The rock was hot but thick enough to block the creature's gaze.
It stopped.
Its head rotated slowly, stiff but precise like a measuring tool.
Its breathing heavy, rhythmic, like a high-pressure steam valve.
Sopia held her breath.
So did I.
The creature moved again—
and charged straight toward us.
——• ☽ ✦ ☾ •——
No time.
It leapt, its body streaking like a huge shadow flung from a giant slingshot. Hot wind from its motion slapped my face.
Its claws came down—
Black, long, serrated—
Striking the ground right where I had stood a second ago.
The earth cracked, red light bursting from the fissure.
I rolled, rising half-crouched.
My eyes darted searching for—
A rock.
Not large, but sharp-edged on one side.
Its heat made the palm of my hand feel scorched.
Not important.
The creature twisted its body, metallic scraping sound coming from its throat.
I threw the rock—
Not just blindly.
I aimed between its neck and shoulder, its center of mass.
The rock hit true.
The creature screamed.
A sound unlike any living thing.
Like broken language.
Like unhuman words, yet somehow faintly echoing deep in my mind.
Thick black liquid flowed from its wound.
As it dripped to the ground, the liquid evaporated instantly as if consumed by fire.
"Ziyan!" Sopia's voice trembled. "Now!"
She was already holding a big rock—both hands, her whole body bracing the weight.
I understood her signal.
I ran toward the creature—
closer, not away.
It swiped its claw again, but its movement faltered due to injury.
The claw grazed past my face by a hair, hot enough to cut through the air.
I slipped under its arm, ducked, and rammed into its leg with all my weight.
The creature faltered—
and fell.
Sopia lifted the rock, gritting her teeth, and slammed it down with all her strength.
BRAAK.
The sound of breaking was not like bone, but like a giant earthenware cracking to pieces.
Thin black smoke rose from cracks on its head.
The creature stopped.
Completely.
——• ☽ ✦ ☾ •——
Sopia fell to her knees, her shoulders shaking hard.
Her hands, still gripping the rock, were covered in dust.
Her eyes couldn't look away from the creature's body.
"I… I actually… killed a living creature," her voice cracked, soft, real fear in it.
I stared at my palms, red and burning.
The pain was there, but only data.
"We have to go before it's too late!" I said, scanning around carefully. "There might be other threats waiting."
Sopia swallowed raggedly.
"Ziyan… that… that's no ordinary beast. If this world is full of creatures like that… we…"
She didn't finish.
Because the answer had been standing around us all along:
the red sky, the burning ground, the toxic air.
"We made it past that obstacle," I said, taking a deep breath. "But I don't know what's next. We need to stay alert and be ready for anything."
Sopia lowered her head.
Neither agreeing nor rejecting.
Just accepting a reality that came too fast.
That red world did not give chances to breathe.
Its land pulsed faintly, as if taking a breath before delivering the next horror.
And we stood in the middle of it—two humans, too small for a world this vast.
TO BE CONTINUED...