Wrong. There is no word quite like it. It doesn't just mean incorrect; it means something that should not be, cannot be, something so fundamentally out of place it defies explanation. It denies the alternative, clarifying beyond doubt that, no matter the circumstance, something is undeniably unable to be true, impossible to be right.
Atlas felt it—everything was wrong.
It wasn't just the whispers or the unnatural chill that clung to the cave's stone walls. It was deeper than that, a wrongness woven into the very air he breathed, the ground beneath his feet, the pulse of existence around him. His instincts screamed for him to run, to get out—get out now. But something held him in place, a force he couldn't explain, but one he recognized.
He exchanged a glance with Shine and Blanc. They felt it too, though neither spoke. Their eyes, wide and wary, betrayed the same fear creeping up his spine. There was no time to second-guess it anymore. They had to move. They had to move faster.
Bursting forth at their greatest speeds, none spoke a word to the other. Not even the echoes of their mindweaves panned out as they blitzed through the darkness as if something was chasing. For all the knew, something was. Something that for all intents and purposes they shouldn't know, yet somehow did, was completely unstoppable.
Their breaths became ragged, chests heaving with strain, as they tore through the musty, moist air of the cave. The silence between them felt like a weight pressing down harder with every second. No words, no shared mindweaves—just the pounding rhythm of their feet and the heavy thrum of their hearts. The darkness closed in around them, thick and suffocating, as if the cave itself was trying to slow them down.
Atlas's mind raced, the tension building as he struggled to make sense of the terror gnawing at his chest. He didn't know what this presence was or why it felt so terrifyingly familiar. It wasn't something he could understand—he wasn't even sure it was something he could see—but he felt it, everywhere, pressing against him like a force that should not exist. Why he completely denied it, he had no idea, but everything about this felt wrong, and yet so right, and it was this sudden addition that horrified him the most. Something inside was accepting whatever the hell was going on, and he wanted nothing more to be rid of this feeling, yet couldn't see end no matter where he peered.
It's hard to imagine such a fermenting horror, the kind that screams death in one ear, and acceptance in the other, the type that grew from the inside, like a parasite taking control.
. . .
They ran, feet pounding against the damp stone, the air thick with the staleness of centuries untouched. Atlas could feel the weight of each breath in his chest, as though the atmosphere itself was pushing back, suffocating them. Somewhere behind them, deep in the cavern's maw, the wrongness pulsed like a heartbeat, slow and deliberate.
They rounded a bend, and there it was—Shine's egg. Or what was left of it.
Shine hesitated, her hexlimbs skidding slightly as they slowed near the spot. The fragments of her egg still lay scattered where they had found her, sharp and glittering, catching the faint light of their surroundings. For just a moment, they paused, their shared silence thick with unease.
The ooze of the Nyr Kathalis was still there, something they didn't know whether to be glad for or not. The puddle of melted life was like still, completely so, as if a taunting depiction of their coming fates. Their nerves boiled over in dread, but they remained silent. None of them wanted to be the one to drag the others down. They'd been alive for hours, and yet somehow, they spent more time glimpsing its end than their dreams or hopes, their futures or friends.
Shine crouched down, her breath caught in her throat as her figure lowered. Brushing momentarily against a large shard of her egg shell, Shine just froze, lingering there for a moment before it suddenly disappeared. Glancing her way, Atlas just watched, seeing the flashing shadow of fear pass through her eyes. Gathering the shards quickly into her storage space, a rushing and hurried pace, she looked desperate, for what only she knew. It was as if the strength they might bring her was something she desperately craved, something she couldn't bare leaving behind.
Atlas's chest tightened, but there was no time for reflection, no time for comfort. His voice caught in his throat, fragmented and hollow, as they resumed their breakneck pace.
"Let's go. We're halfway there."
They moved deeper, faster, the cave swallowing them as though it were welcoming.
Before long, the oozing puddle of their one time predator was left far behind. Yet no eyes glanced back at it, they felt no pity, merely moving further into the darkness.
With the rapid tapping of their hexlimbs shooting them forth, they'd become accustomed to the pattern of clicks, their only companion in the desolate cave. Their only barrier from the eerie cries of the presence beyond.
But now, silence had begun to sing, and it's song was unwelcome. Its song was deafening.
The song of silence gnawed at their senses, sinking its ringing claws deep in their minds, their ears not escaping its passing. With each passing second, the absence of sound became louder, more suffocating, more unforgiving. Every tap of their hexlimbs muted, swallowed by the void of stillness that surrounded it all. It felt unnatural. Wrong. Atlas had never realized how comforting the rhythmic clicks had been until they were gone. Now, it was as if the cave itself had chosen to quiet them, mocking their presence as they pressed on.
The tunnel narrowed ahead, squeezing them toward the mouth of a long, jagged corridor. Here, the darkness deepened, thick like tar and seemingly infinite, even if their minds said otherwise. It clung to their skin, seeping into their bones as though it wished to smother the last remnants of their resolve.
They were close. Atlas could sense it—the entrance wasn't far now. But the corridor ahead stretched before them like an unending maw, and a weight pressed against his mind. His chest burned, his breaths coming shorter, more ragged, but he couldn't slow down. Wouldn't.
Shine and Blanc stayed just behind, their movements precise, though he could see the tension in their every step, when looked to confirm they were still there. Shine's eyes flicked from side to side, as if expecting something to emerge from the walls themselves, her body coiled like a spring ready to snap. Blanc's face was set in rigid neutrality, a face so placid not a single one of them believed its lies, but maybe himself. His silence only added to the thickening dread.
The narrow tunnel seemed endless, and with every step they took, the wrongness grew. Atlas's head pounded, an invisible pressure building inside his skull. The further they went, the harder it became to think. He clenched his teeth, willing himself to push forward, but something deep within him screamed to stop. STAY. BASK. GROW.
Atlas's mind raced, the tension spiraling as that alien sense of familiarity clawed its way to the surface. He didn't understand it, couldn't explain it, but some part of him—some deep, unknowable part—felt drawn to the wrongness suffusing the cave. It horrified him, this twisted blend of terror and acceptance gnawing at his insides like something possessed him something that wasn't himself. Why couldn't he reject it completely? Why did it feel like a forgotten instinct, as natural as breathing, slowly surfacing? Why did he suddenly question if this was his body?
The narrow corridor stretched ahead, dark and unrelenting. Each step seemed to pull them further from sanity, the air around them growing heavier, thicker. Atlas's muscles screamed in protest, but his mind was louder. That voice inside, the one that had begun whispering at the edges of his consciousness, now whispered louder.
Start — End — Everything — In — Between
Atlas clenched his fists tighter, nails digging into his palms, trying to ground himself against the pressure rising in his chest. His nails were sharp, like knives to a peach, yet he felt nothing, not the trickling blood, or the squirming of flesh. He felt nothing.
No.
The word echoed through his mind, but the whisper pushed back, relentless.
Start — End — Everything — In — Between.
Each syllable felt like a hammer to his skull, rattling his mind like a few drinks too many. It was more than a voice now—it was a presence, something vast and old, threading itself through his senses. His legs kept moving, but it felt mechanical, like he wasn't the one controlling them anymore.
Shine and Blanc surged ahead, focused on the distant mouth of the cave. The dim light ahead should have brought hope, but for Atlas, it only sharpened the unease burrowing into his gut. The wrongness was suffocating now, coiling tighter with every step toward freedom.
His eyes darted to the sides of the tunnel, where the walls seemed to pulse, breathing with the same rhythm as the voice inside his head. Was it real? His vision blurred for a moment, and the stone around him flickered, as though reality itself was fraying at the edges.
[Atlas?] Shine's voice pierced the fog in his mind, sharp and worried. She'd noticed him falling behind, and thought she saw him meld with the shadow for a moment too, but he seemed normal now.
Atlas shook his head, trying to clear it, forcing his legs to move faster. But the weight on his chest wouldn't let up. The whispers were growing louder, swelling in his ears, drowning out everything else.
In - Between.
His breath came in short gasps now, his body moving on instinct alone as they neared the end of the corridor. 'We're almost there'. Freedom was before them, just beyond, all they had to do was reach it.
His mind screamed at him to keep going, but something else, something vast, was beckoning like a mother calling her children home.
Then the ground beneath his feet shifted. It was subtle at first, but then it came, a sudden jolt, as though the cave itself had shifted, and the air grew colder. The pressure that had been building in the air, in his mind, snapped.
Atlas staggered as the ground beneath him jolted, the sudden shift breaking through the haze that had been clouding his mind. The cold air slapped his face, but it didn't help. The pull in his chest had become unbearable, like invisible hands dragging him back, into the cave, into the wrongness that now coiled around him like a second skin.
In - Between.
The words echoed again, this time louder, closer, as if spoken from inside his very bones. His legs kept moving, but every step felt heavier than the last. Shine and Blanc were just ahead, but their forms seemed to warp and flicker, like reflections in rippling water. He blinked hard, his vision swimming.
The cave... was it moving? The walls seemed to stretch and twist, their shapes shifting as though they were alive. He reached out, steadying himself against the cold stone, but the surface felt wrong, slick and almost pulsing beneath his palm. He jerked his hand back, heart hammering.
"Keep going," he murmured to himself, the words barely audible, lost beneath the roar in his ears.
But the voice inside him wouldn't be silenced.
You feel it, don't you? The pull. So close... so far...
Atlas's breath hitched. The words were no longer fragments of thought—they were fully formed, solid, and real. The voice—that voice—wasn't just in his head anymore. It was everywhere, seeping into the air around him, vibrating through the very stone of the cave.
This is right. This is where it begins. This is where it ends.
The phrase sent an icy spike of terror through his chest. He didn't know what it meant, but it felt final, like an inescapable truth he wasn't ready to face. His feet moved faster, carrying him closer to the exit, but his mind was trapped, spiraling deeper into the pit that voice had carved inside him.
Atlas's legs moved on instinct, the cave's entrance a blurry promise of safety just ahead. But the world around him wasn't right—he wasn't right. Everything was crooked, everything denied the next, and it all felt conflicting. How could he even begin to explain this? How would he have told his parents? That pull, that voice, had lodged itself deep inside him now, insistent and calm, like it knew something he didn't.
Blanc was the first to notice Atlas slowing. He turned back, his pale silver-blue eyes narrowing. For a moment, he almost asked, but something in the air around Atlas stopped him—a chill, a heaviness. It was like the space around him was... incomplete, warped in a way Blanc couldn't grasp.
Shine, too, glanced back, her movements stuttering for just a second. She had felt it before—when she first woke up, that creeping wrongness, the strange pulse. But now it was stronger, more focused, as though it had found its source.
Atlas.
[Brother Atlas?] Blanc's voice was low, hesitant. His sharp eyes flickered with something close to fear, though he masked it quickly. [We need to move, brother.]
But Atlas didn't respond immediately. He was caught, his breath shallow, body tense. That weight in his chest had become a full-blown drag, pulling him back, pulling him toward something that felt both ancient and terrifyingly familiar.
Shine's eyes locked on him, concern flooding her features. For a heartbeat, she considered reaching out—connecting with him through their shared mindweave, but... something stopped her. Something about the way Atlas's energy felt—like it was shifting, slipping away from what she knew, from what was safe. There was no comfort in the weave, only a deep, unspoken sense of danger.
Blanc's voice broke through again, sharper now. [Atlas!]
Atlas's breath came in shallow bursts, his vision narrowing to a tunnel of blurred stone and the faint light ahead. But that light—what should have been salvation—only made the dread inside him more pronounced, more inescapable. Blanc's voice barely registered, the sound distorted as if it came from underwater.
Then, something clicked.
It wasn't a sound, not exactly. It was more like a shift in the air, a snap that only Atlas seemed to feel, as though reality itself had just bent around him. He stumbled, his hexlimbs scraping the cold stone, but he didn't fall. The pull was stronger now, a gravitational force that made each step feel like a monumental effort. It wasn't just inside his chest—it was everywhere.
Blanc hesitated, his instincts flaring with unease. He had memories of more kinds than he could count, innumerable battles, uncountable crafts, and unfathomable histories, but this... this was different. His eyes flicked to Shine, and for a moment, they were in complete agreement: something was happening to Atlas, something they didn't understand.
Shine slowed, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face as she considered again—should she connect to him? Was it even safe? She felt the mindweave pulse between them, like a heartbeat out of rhythm. She had never felt Atlas like this before—like he was slipping.
She'd only known him a short time, but a mindweave tells far more than Atlas knew. Shine had a good grasp on his person, what she thought was his person, it seemed. He was stoic, lonely, sarcastic but caring, cold yet warm, and somehow in constant denial, denial and hesitation, accompanied by some kind of pain. He was constantly fighting a battle he never spoke of, that was what their weave had told her, but this, this was something else entirely. A complete denial of all that she'd felt, as if she'd been lied too, and yet she didn't believe it, not for a second.
[Atlas, focus!] Blanc's voice cut through, sharp and commanding. He was trying to ground him, to pull him back from whatever void was consuming him.
For a moment, Atlas blinked, his gaze locking with Blanc's. And for a fleeting second, Blanc thought he saw it—something else behind Atlas's eyes, something ancient, something not Atlas at all. Something that saw not a sibling, new as they were, something that saw nothing, yet everything in its place.
A flicker of recognition passed through Blanc's mind, but it wasn't from memory. It was primal, instinctive—like staring into a creature that had seen the beginning and end of everything.
Then Atlas blinked, and just as quickly as it had come, the presence was gone, swallowed back into the murk of his mind.
[Atlas!] Blanc's voice was sharper now, almost desperate.
Atlas shook his head, the world snapping back into focus, though the pull in his chest remained. "I'm fine," he uttered, but the words felt hollow. He wasn't fine, and they both knew it.
Shine had seen it too, though she said nothing. Instead, she tightened her grip on her hexlimbs, bracing herself. Whatever was happening to Atlas, it was far beyond anything they could grasp. But there was no time to dwell on it now. They were almost there. Almost out.
The final few meters loomed ahead, the mouth of the cave yawning before them, but as they pushed forward, the cold grip inside Atlas tightened one last time. The pressure was unbearable now, the pull undeniable.
And then it happened.
The air around them fractured. It wasn't visible, not exactly—more like the fabric of reality itself splintered, the cave walls warping and bending in on themselves for a heartbeat. The temperature dropped sharply, the silence crushing, and for a moment, all three of them could feel it.
That wrongness. That vast, incomprehensible presence.
Atlas gasped, his legs faltering as his body buckled under the strain of the pull. And in the distance, faint but growing louder, the voice whispered once more:
Start. End. Everything. In Between.
The pressure around Atlas was suffocating, but something else—something new—pierced the overwhelming weight. A sudden shift in the air, sharper and warmer, broke through the cold grasp that had been tightening around him. For a fleeting moment, Atlas felt like he could breathe again, though it came with a strange, buzzing charge. It was as if the atmosphere had split, like two forces were colliding, each vying for control.
The whispering pull of the voice of wrong had faded, leaving only its haunting words behind, but now there was a new presence—one that was aware.
The cave ahead flickered, and a faint glow seeped through the stone walls. It wasn't light in the traditional sense, not warm or welcoming, but it was present nonetheless. Atlas could feel it—her—closing in. The sensation was different from the vast, inhuman coldness he had felt before. This wasn't the void. This was something... sentient. Watchful.
Blanc and Shine felt it too. Their bodies tensed as they slowed their movements, instincts flaring as the foreign energy brushed against their senses. For the first time since they had begun running, they exchanged a glance, one that was filled with the same question burning in Atlas's mind.
Who—or what—was it?
Atlas's heart pounded in his chest, the sharp contrast between the earlier whisper and this new presence raising the hairs on his neck. But he had no time to wonder. The splinter in reality was growing more tangible, and something was here.