Chapter 1: Cutscene
Lucas woke to nothingness.
The first thing he noticed was the air, or rather the lack of it. His lungs heaved as though he were drowning, yet there was no water, no weight crushing him. Only a vast, oppressive void stretched endlessly in every direction. He sat up—or thought he did—his movements sluggish and disjointed, as though his body wasn’t quite his own.
A soft, cold light bathed everything, yet it came from nowhere. No shadows. No warmth. Just the emptiness pressing against him like a silent judge. He looked down, expecting to see his hands, his legs, some anchor to reality, but they weren’t there. Or maybe they were. They flickered, translucent and insubstantial, like a fading memory struggling to stay alive.
His thoughts scrambled, clawing for context, for anything. He latched onto fragments—a classroom, his friends, Jake’s laugh, Sarah’s voice, his mom. Then came the sharp edges, the parts that didn’t make sense, Mr. Wilkins’ unraveling, the classroom falling into delirium, Sarah’s screams, and Jake self destruction. The events unfolded in his mind piece by piece, as if reality itself were unraveling itself.
‘Was that real?’
His chest tightened as the memories came faster, more visceral. Screams. Glass shattering. Portals to other worlds. That presence. Then… nothing.
Now, here. Wherever here was.
He pushed himself to his feet—or tried to. There was no floor, no gravity to brace against, yet he floated upright. His voice broke the silence, trembling and hollow.
“What happened to everyone? Where… am I?”
The void answered.
Not with words however. A hum resonated around him, low and all-encompassing, a vibration that didn’t just touch his ears but reached inside his very essence. It felt vast, ancient, and indifferent. The kind of presence that didn’t acknowledge individuals but entire eras.
When it spoke, its voice wasn’t a voice at all. It was more like a thought, raw and absolute, echoing through him as though he were a receptacle for its will.
An accident.
Lucas blinked, the implication of the words hitting him like a physical force.
“What… what do you mean?”
He stammered, his voice cracking as he fought back his instinctual fear and awe of the presence.
“What accident? What happened!?”
The presence offered no elaboration. It waited, cold, and unyielding. Its silence louder than any response could have been.
Lucas’s mind raced, filling the void with his own desperate thoughts.
“The school,” he muttered, more to himself than to the presence.
“Mr. Wilkins… my friends… mom…”
He froze at this point, the weight of the realization sinking in.
“They’re… gone, aren’t they? What did you do to them!?”
The presence didn’t confirm or deny. It simply existed, vast and implacable, like a storm cloud looming overhead. Lucas felt its indifference, not cruel but detached, as though his anguish were an insect’s cry carried on the wind.
He screamed into the void, his voice raw.
“Tell me! What happened to them? What happened to me?!”
Taking its time, the void replied once more.
Annihilation.
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The single thought settled over him, suffocating in its finality. Lucas staggered back, his translucent hands clutching at his chest as though trying to hold himself together.
“No… no, that can’t be right,” he whispered. His breath hitched.
“Why would something like that just... happen? That’s not the way things work!”
Lucas screamed, unable to accept this reality presented before him.
The presence simply returned to silence. Completely unbothered by Lucas’ outbursts and frustrations.
Lucas’s knees buckled—or they would have, had there been a ground to fall onto. He collapsed inward, his form flickering as his mind spiraled. He had nobody, no frame of reference, nothing to anchor him to reality.
“Why?”
He whispered, his voice barely audible.
“Why did this happen?”
The void stirred, not in sympathy but as if moved by some unseen current. Its answer came slow, deliberate, and absolute.
Contact.
The word struck Lucas with a weight he couldn’t comprehend. He didn’t understand it, not fully, but he felt its enormity. This wasn’t a catastrophe orchestrated by malice or fate. It wasn’t personal. It was inevitable.
His anger flared, raw and instinctive.
“Contact? That’s it?”
he shouted into the endless expanse.
“What the fuck does that even mean? Everything just… ends? For no reason?”
Once again the presence doesn’t acknowledge Lucas’ outburst. Simply encompassing him in its overbearing silence and indifference.
Lucas clenched his fists, feeling like he was about to explode. His form flickered more violently every passing moment.
“Then why am I here? Why not them? Why not… all of us?”
The presence didn’t answer immediately. It let the silence stretch, suffocating, and infinite. When it finally responded, the thoughts carried an air of inevitability, as though they’d already been decided long before Lucas even asked.
You’re an anomaly.
“What?” Lucas echoed, his voice tainted with confusion. “What does that mean? What happens to me?”
The presence didn’t hesitate. Its response was simple, uncompromising.
You choose.
Lucas stilled, his breath catching in his throat. “Choose?” he repeated, dread creeping into his voice. “Choose between which options?”
Again, the void didn’t rush to answer. It let the weight of the question settle over him before finally delivering its ultimatum.
Oblivion, Or purpose.
It echoed, its words carrying a chilling finality.
Lucas’s mind reeled. “Oblivion?” he whispered.
To fade, to join what is lost.
It clarified, though the explanation brought no comfort.
“And… purpose?” he asked, his voice trembling with uncertainty.
The void seemed to swell around him, its presence pressed closer without moving.
To remain, To become.
Lucas’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. He didn’t understand. Or maybe he did, and that understanding terrified him. “Become… what?”
The presence didn’t answer. Not directly. Instead, it offered him a single, unyielding truth.
To persist is to change.
Lucas shook his head, his thoughts a tangle of fear and defiance. “I don’t want this,” he said, his voice frail. “I just want to go back. I want my life back.”
Your life is gone, What remains is choice.
The presence replied, cold and unflinching.
Lucas’ vision blurred—not with tears, for he had no eyes to cry with, but with the weight of everything pressing down on him. He wanted to scream, to fight, but there was nothing to fight against. The presence wasn’t an enemy. It wasn’t anything he could grasp. It simply was.
He sank into himself, trembling. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
The voice once again just sank into silence. It’s patience immeasurable.
Lucas closed his eyes, at least he imagined he did. He felt the enormity of the void, the endless pull of oblivion, and the faint, fragile thread of purpose dangling before him. Neither option offered any comfort. Neither felt like salvation. But one was final, and the other was unknown.
After what felt like an eternity, his mind doing its absolute best to grapple with the situation, he finally spoke. His voice was firm and determined as he said.
“I choose to remain. I’m going to live, not just for myself but for everything and everyone you destroyed!”
The void responded not with words but with motion. The endless whiteness folded in on itself, collapsing into a single point of light that burned brighter and brighter until it consumed everything.
Lucas felt himself pulled into it, his form unraveling and reassembling, no longer entirely his own. As the light swallowed him, the presence spoke one final time, its voice reverberating through the very fabric of his being.
So be it.
