I would bury Lyra beneath a pile of rocks.

  There were so many in the cavern, and so easy to find.

  I’d pick up a stone and place it. Sometimes, I’d curse the stone for breaking in my grip.

  This place was supposed to be a miserable, indomitable prison. Why was everything so fragile now?

  I replayed the events that led up to this moment as I gathered events.

  I entered the passage.

  I found a girl.

  I saved a girl.

  I walked with that girl.

  Girl got taken when I got comfortable.

  I chased that girl.

  I found her again and saved her again.

  I kept her from going to a Husk.

  I dragged her back.

  I watched her eye explode and cut out the thing that grew in its place.

  I put a gun in her mouth.

  I walked with her.

  I saw her body peel off of her like it was a wetsuit, and saw a Shadow Beast emerge.

  But then, she came out of nowhere and revealed that there was a switch.

  When did it happen?

  Was it when she got taken? That had to be it… but then that meant that everything after I got her back, the Husk, the eye, the gun—that was a fake?

  I kept searching my memories the entire time I stacked rocks around Lyra. I was so focused—a Shadow Beast could have killed me right then and there…

  There was one more time. There was a moment when I had looked away from Lyra—when I had noticed the silver goo on my arm.

  Was that when it happened?

  By the time I was giving Lyra a final prayer, I was confused. With that confusion firmly rooted in my mind, I just focused on what I did know.

  A Shadow Beast took the form of a person named Lyra. And no matter when it happened, it displayed behavior one could never expect a Shadow Beast to imitate. The earlier it happened, the more diversity in behavior it exhibited.

  The final note triggered the Shadow Beast’s emergence.

  Lyra died saving me and delivering a message.

  Lyra said there was a person who suddenly declared he had to extinguish the Shadow Flame of Lyra’s village…

  When the final stone was laid, and I couldn’t see Lyra anymore, I wondered if it was even real. Did all of that really happen?

  I had to move on, either way.

  ***

  Placing a hand on it was all it took to make the strange formation shudder and fold in on itself—its material creased like living fabric, twisting inward, unfurling into an opening filled with thick red mist.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “I really hope I don’t get my skin peeled away,” I muttered, but no one was left to hear my dry remarks.

  I stepped through.

  The mist clung to my skin like humidity, thick but insubstantial, carrying a strange static charge that made my fingers tingle. I checked my HP—still 10 and not decreasing. The sensation wasn’t killing me.

  The wandering lasted longer than I expected. The red mist wasn’t just fog—it was disorienting, warping depth and distance. At times, I thought I saw movement inside it—distorted limbs stretching too long, shapes breaking apart, and reforming. But every time I turned to face them, they were gone.

  Then the mist thinned, and I stepped into a world that shouldn’t exist.

  It was a world bathed in deep crimson–an unfathomable void of altering shades of red. Narrow dirt bridges covered in what seemed like a net of veins and flesh wove between scattered floating masses of the same material, their edges rising and falling with slow, rhythmic pulses—like everything was breathing. The air pulsed with them, a steady, heartbeat pressing against my skull that you could feel but not hear.

  I took a step forward, then looked down.

  And nearly staggered back.

  Beneath the bridges, scattered rivers flowed. It wasn’t blood, it wasn’t water—it was something else that I couldn’t make sense of. The current didn’t ripple. It didn’t bubble. It was more like a slow-moving current of coiling, viscous electricity mixed with flesh, shifting and unraveling within its own boundaries.

  Shapes formed inside it—half-human, half-wrong. They stretched toward the surface, then fell apart, their features dissolving back into the current like thoughts forgotten mid-sentence.

  I clenched my jaw and tore my gaze away.

  The pulsing landmasses weren’t much better. Their boundaries weren’t solid. The longer I stared, the more I saw the world behind them fracture and twist.

  At first, I thought they were just cracks in the red-tinged space, but the longer I stared, the more I realized they weren’t cracks at all.

  They were like fractals—shapes that branched infinitely into themselves.

  I blinked. Then I kept my eyes closed. They were still there, expanding and crawling behind my eyelids. It was like I had burned them into my being. They would continue to grow with me as the unwitting host who would witness them.

  I ripped my eyes open and forced my gaze downward, focusing on the caged dirt and breathing hard.

  Above me, the sky hummed. It sounded like multiple crystals were clinging against each other. My eyes were drawn before I realized it.

  At first, I thought they were fireflies.

  Clusters of vibrant orange and purple lights swirled lazily through the air, their colors shifting with a strange, rhythmic pulse.

  Then I spoke.

  “Where the hell am I?”

  The fireflies changed color all at once–becoming a more vibrant red.

  I froze.

  Slowly, I took a step forward. The fireflies shifted again, forming a distinct swirl.

  They were reacting to me.

  The heartbeat pressed heavier against my skull. I exhaled through my nose and kept walking. Surely, there was something at the end of this path.

  The notes and the messages written within them duplicated behind my eyelids each time I closed my eyes. My mind was fraying, but I wasn’t going to doubt everything I had done up until now.

  “There is no way but forward,” I told myself.

  A whisper drifted through the void.

  “Where the hell am I?”

  I stiffened. That was exactly what I had said earlier. It was different, though. Stretched, distorted, more vulnerable sounding. It was like it was the version that the space had interpreted.

  I shook my head. “I’m not that scared.”

  “There is no way I’m not that scared.”

  Irritation coursed through my veins like liquid fire. Whatever doubt I had was dispelled. I set my eyes on the path ahead–one that ended in a speck on the horizon, beyond all the bridges crisscrossing the sky, connecting lonely masses.

  The fireflies above reacted. The place must have sensed my desire to give it the finger and move on. The clinking of crystals echoed from behind me. I turned to see prisms of sharp, red crystalline materials forming from thin air.

  The crystals–spiked masses with protrusions coming in and out repeatedly–cycled through various configurations as they grew. Then, all at once, they rounded. Like fruits falling off a branch, they fell onto the bridge–a good dozen of them. With a clink, they all bounced, and geometric, stubby legs popped out of their bodies so that they looked like round, slightly squished little things on four legs.

  And then their mouths opened. Not mouths, really—just jagged edges splitting their bodies apart like a shattered gemstone breaking at its weakest point. They chomped the air repeatedly, testing their freshly split jaws.

  I flexed New Arm’s fingers. “Bring it, you cursed little chompers.”

  I said that, but I turned and sprinted away, not all too eager to have more of those things form ahead of me and trap me on this narrow spit of land.

  [█████████????] 64 / 70 Followers

  ? 6 more until I can justify buying myself a chocolate bar.

  [?] Awaiting First Review... So excited. Will definitely need the chocolate bar.

  [Marticus] is actively stabilizing the author's mental health.

  ? If Marticus disappears, Set might suddenly fall victim to falling rocks.