The Edge of Oblivion

Eliar Vayne stared at the chalkboard in front of him, his fingers gripping the stub of chalk as if it were the only thing holding his world together. Equations sprawled across the surface in a tangled mess, like vines choking the clarity out of his mind. Somewhere in there was the solution. He just had to find it.

The faint hum of his reactor filled the room, a sound he usually found comforting. Tonight, it gnawed at him, a sharp edge to the familiar rhythm. He glanced at the prototype in the corner, its faint glow flickering slightly.

"No," he muttered, turning back to his equations. "Focus."

His hands moved on autopilot, correcting a small error he'd nearly missed. Another mistake, another hour wasted. Eliar leaned back with a sigh, his legs shaking from exhaustion as he paced the room. He was running on fumes, his body screaming for rest, but rest would only mean more time wasted. And time was something he didn't feel like he had anymore.

A sharp hiss snapped him out of his thoughts.

He turned toward the reactor, his heart skipping. A thin wisp of gas coiled out from its base, curling upward in the dim light.

"What…?" His voice barely carried over the low hum of the machine. Eliar hurried toward it, crouching to inspect the controls. He reached for the emergency shutoff, his fingers trembling, but before he could react, the hum shifted into a deep, throbbing roar.

"No, no, no! This doesn't make sense—"

Light erupted from the reactor, flooding the room in an instant. Eliar's breath caught as a searing heat tore through him. It wasn't just pain—it was everything. The light swallowed him whole, dragging him into its blinding void.

When Eliar opened his eyes, the light was gone.

At first, he thought he was dreaming. Or maybe he wasn't thinking at all—his mind was too foggy to string thoughts together. He blinked, staring upward. The sky stretched out before him, vast and wrong. Cracks of glowing crimson light pulsed faintly against a dark, endless void, like veins in the body of something ancient.

"What the…?" The words escaped him before he could finish the thought. His voice sounded foreign in the heavy air, thick and metallic in his throat. He sat up slowly, every muscle in his body screaming in protest.

The ground beneath him was cold and smooth, like polished stone, but riddled with jagged fractures that glowed faintly with the same crimson light as the sky. The terrain stretched out around him in every direction—barren, alien, and hostile. Jagged rock formations jutted up like teeth from the earth, and faint rivers of molten red glowed in the distance.

Eliar's breath quickened as the weight of his situation sank in. His clothes weren't his—gone were the familiar lab coat and slacks, replaced by rough, dark fabric that scratched against his skin. His boots, heavier and scuffed, looked as if they'd been cobbled together from scraps.

"Where am I?!" The words rang hollow in the empty landscape. He pressed his palms against the cold ground, his mind scrambling for answers. The reactor. The explosion. His death. He should be dead. Was this hell? Or something worse?

A low, guttural growl shattered the silence.

Eliar froze. Slowly, he turned toward the sound, his heart pounding in his chest. Eyes—dozens of them—glowed faintly in the shadows, blinking in slow, uneven rhythms.

Then the shapes emerged.

They were grotesque, sinewy creatures, their limbs stretched unnaturally long, their bodies shimmering like oil slicks under faint light. Teeth jutted from mouths that looked too wide, too jagged, as if designed for nothing but tearing.

Eliar's mind screamed for logic, for anything that could explain what he was seeing. Instead, all he could manage was a shaky whisper: "What… what are those?!"

The creatures moved closer, their movements erratic and jerking. He scrambled to his feet, his legs shaking beneath him. "No, no, no—this isn't real! This can't be real!"

One of the creatures let out a shriek, and that was enough to break him. Eliar turned and ran.

His boots skidded against the uneven ground, sharp rocks slicing into the soles as he sprinted. The creatures followed, their shrieks piercing the air like knives. He didn't dare look back. Every breath burned, his chest tightening with panic.

Ahead, he spotted a narrow crevice between two jagged rock formations. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. He dove into the gap, his shoulders scraping against the rough stone as he squeezed through. One of the creatures lunged after him, its claws raking the edge of the crevice, inches from his back.

Panting, Eliar pressed himself against the cold rock, his heart hammering in his ears. "What… the hell is happening?!" His voice was little more than a gasp, his mind reeling. Nothing made sense. The creatures, the sky, the ground—everything felt wrong, alien, and hostile.

Then he felt it.

A pulse. Faint, but undeniable. It resonated through the air, a vibration that seemed to reach into his chest. He stilled, his breathing slowing as he focused on the sensation. It wasn't random. There was a rhythm to it, a pattern. And patterns… patterns were something he understood.

Eliar reached out instinctively, his hand trembling. The air shifted around him, threads of faint crimson light weaving themselves into his palm. His mind latched onto the rhythm, analyzing the flow, shaping it. It wasn't like anything he'd seen before, but it was familiar enough.

The first creature lunged into the crevice.

Eliar thrust his hand forward, and the energy responded. A burst of crimson light erupted from his palm, striking the creature square in the chest. It disintegrated into ash with a piercing shriek.

The others hesitated, their movements faltering. Eliar didn't stop. He focused again, weaving the energy into a jagged barrier that sealed the crevice. The creatures clawed at it, their shrieks furious, but the barrier held.

For now.

As the creatures retreated into the shadows, Eliar collapsed to his knees, his entire body trembling. The energy faded from his hands, but the memory of it lingered, sharp and raw. He stared at his palms, his thoughts a chaotic swirl.

"What was that?!" His voice broke as he spoke, the question directed at no one. It wasn't magic. Not exactly. It was something else. Something mathematical, structured. Logical.

But whatever it was, it had saved his life. For now, that was enough.

Eliar leaned against the rock, his exhaustion washing over him. The air was silent again, but it didn't feel peaceful. The weight of this place pressed down on him, suffocating, hostile. Whatever this world was, it didn't care that he had survived.

It wanted him to suffer.

And for the first time in his life, Eliar wasn't sure if he was smart enough to stop it.