Sorken's first sensation upon waking was the cold, unyielding surface beneath him—a stony ground that offered no warmth, or comfort, just an unforgiving reality. His consciousness clawed its way back, dragging him from the recesses of a deep, suffocating void. His mind throbbed, the residual fog of unconsciousness slowly lifting, though not quickly enough. Silence enveloped him, a deathly silence so oppressive that it amplified the pulse of his own blood pounding in his ears. The quiet felt unnatural, starkly contrasting to the panicked screams that had last filled his awareness. It was a silence that carried a weight, thick and ominous, pressing down on him like a shroud.
Then, without warning, a voice—deep and seething with agitation—cut through the suffocating quiet like a blade.
"Ahhh... finally awake, aren't we?"
The sound made his blood run cold. It was not just loud; it was the kind of voice that seeped into one's bones, that primal sound a prey hears just before the predator strikes. Sorken's body instinctively tensed, a nameless dread coiling in his gut. His mind screamed danger, a visceral, ancient fear that told him not to face the source of that voice.
He started to take deep breaths as a warm sensation spread across his limp body.
His thoughts scrambled, desperately searching for clarity, for something to hold onto. He latched onto his last coherent memory, replaying it like a fading reel of film. Just moments ago—or so it seemed—he had been walking through the park with Tamara, his fiancée. Her hand was in his, the warmth of her skin a sharp contrast to the chill he now felt in his very bones. They had been laughing, and talking, oblivious to the world around them. Then, without warning, the world had shifted—a radiant mist, blindingly white, had swept over them, swallowing everything. There had been no pain, but an overwhelming dizziness, as though gravity itself had twisted and wrenched at his body, disorienting him in a way that felt far too unnatural. It reminded him, strangely enough, of the time he had spent in a high-gravity chamber at an aeronautical research center—though that had been controlled, expected. This... this had been anything but.
Now, as he lay there, disoriented and broken, deep, unsettling noises filled his mind—a cacophony of his voice, frantic and repeating in an endless loop.
"I am here... I am here... I am here..."
The chant echoed, not from his lips, but from deep inside his fractured psyche.
Badump. Badump. Badump.
The sound of his heartbeat pulsed in his head, growing louder, and faster until it threatened to drown out all reason. Then came the scream.
"Ahhhhhh... Ahhhhhhhh!"
The scream was his own, reverberating inside his skull, as if the walls of his mind were collapsing inward, ready to shatter under the pressure. He tried to call out, to say something, anything, but his voice remained trapped in the cage of his mind.
"I am here... Tamara... Tamara... why don't you answer?"
It was a desperate, futile attempt, and even as he thought her name, the hollowness of it only deepened the sense of dread gnawing at him. The more he struggled, the more his heart pounded violently in his chest. Fear had sunk its claws into him, but it was not fear for himself—it was for her. Where was she? What had happened to her?
His mind grasped at the edges of reality, trying to rationalize the chaos. They had been together—holding hands when that bizarre mist had swallowed them both. But then... then nothing. She had disappeared, as if the mist had consumed her entirely, leaving him to scream into the void until unconsciousness claimed him. How long had he been in this limbo? Minutes? Hours? Days?
Sweat began to bead on his forehead, rolling down his face in thin rivulets, the air thick and heavy against his skin. Something wasn't right. The unease was gnawing at him, a crawling sensation beneath his skin, as if his very body was rebelling against the situation. Instinctively, he tried to move his arms, to wipe the sweat away, but his limbs remained frozen. Paralyzed. The harder he strained, the more suffocating the sensation became, until it was almost unbearable.
His eyes wouldn't open. No matter how hard he willed them, no matter how much he begged his body to respond, they refused to obey. His heart lurched as the realization set in that something far beyond conventional thinking was the cause of this situation.
'Calm down… focus. Think.'
His analytical mind struggled against the growing panic, clinging to logic in a desperate attempt to make sense of his predicament. His body—his mind—was not merely fatigued. There was something far deeper at work. Trauma? Yes, that made sense, didn't it? Mental trauma, physical shock—enough to render his body unresponsive, perhaps as a defense mechanism.
Or had something been done to him? Could this be some form of drug? Had they been kidnapped, and injected with a serum designed to incapacitate them both mentally and physically?
The more he thought about it, the more absurd it seemed. He had felt no sudden injection, no prick of a needle, and aerosolized serums potent enough to affect both mind and body like this were still years away from practical development. His mind raced, pulling at the thin threads of what could be true, but every idea felt like a dead end. Kidnapping in broad daylight? The public park? Why? And if someone had wanted them incapacitated, surely there were easier ways.
Something stuck in his mind and he quickly started to focus on his breathing. his face contracted and his body shivered as he realized the weight of what he had discovered. This abnormal place had a completely different atmosphere and air from any city or place, he had a chance to visit on earth. the air was heavy but fresh, every time he took a deep breath, the warm sensation of someone cradling him filled his heart. At first, he was unable to notice it but now that he did, it clicked that maybe he was in what he would consider an impossible situation a few minutes back. This place was somewhere that has not yet been found and they have been brought here under everyone's nose, through a highly sophisticated means not yet discovered.
'No... this isn't logical. Something else happened. if what I think is right, we are with people we can not deal with, even if we gain our mental and physical balance back .'
The thought settled over him like a leaden weight. A creeping, primal fear, the kind that whispered of otherworldly forces far beyond his understanding.
His mind screamed for answers, but his body refused to respond. He couldn't even muster the strength to speak. The voice in his head echoed louder, still begging for some form of acknowledgment. He felt as though he were screaming at the top of his lungs, but no sound left his lips.
'I should focus on finding Tamara, everything else can be understood later, her safety is more important right now, especially if she is also in a similar situation.'
'Agh... It hurts. it freaking hurts... Ah Ah'
"Hello… Tamara… can you hear me?" even if he knew that he was unable to speak, he still tried. The words resounded only in his mind, over and over, becoming more desperate with each repetition. "Can anyone hear me? Please… answer…"
Nothing. No response. Just the maddening sound of his thoughts spiraling into an abyss.
He tried again to sit up, to force his body into action, but each movement felt as though his muscles were tearing apart, screaming in agony with every attempt. His casual clothes, once comfortable, now felt rough and ragged against his skin, a reminder of how far he had fallen from normalcy.
He couldn't even control his breathing—his chest felt foreign, the rhythm of his breath erratic and uneven. He was utterly trapped within himself, his body a prison that refused to obey.
'Focus, Sorken. Breathe. Just breathe.'
His thoughts clung desperately to the simple command, using it as an anchor in the midst of the storm raging inside him. Slowly, he felt the rhythm of his breath steadying, though it did little to alleviate the dread settling like a stone in his gut.
'If I can just… open my eyes. Everything will make sense once I open my eyes.'
He repeated it like a mantra, each word a lifeline to sanity. He needed to see. To understand.
'Tamara… she was with me. She has to be nearby. Just… open your eyes.'
With what little strength remained, Sorken forced his eyelids to part. Slowly, painfully, they began to lift, allowing the dimmest sliver of light to seep through. His vision was blurred, his surroundings a muddied haze, but there—on the periphery of his consciousness—he saw it. A burning pyre, glowing faintly in the distance, casting ominous shadows that danced across the cold, stony ground. The sight sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over him.
He tried to lift his head, but the weight of it was unbearable. His body, though slightly more responsive, still felt alien and numb. But he forced himself to move—if only a little—enough to shift his gaze.
There she was.
Tamara. His fiancée. His love. Lying motionless just a few feet away. Her auburn hair, tangled and disheveled, spilled across her face, partially obscuring her features. She looked pale, far too still.
"T-Tamara…" he rasped in his mind, his heart seizing with the fear that she, too, was lost.
Sorken's pulse quickened as he forced himself to focus on Tamara's motionless form. His breath hitched, the once-labored rhythm of his breathing now overtaken by an urgency, a desperate need to know. Was she alive? Was she even real? His mind screamed for action, but his limbs felt like lead, every muscle weighed down by an inexplicable force.
"Tamara... please... move," he whispered internally, clinging to the slim hope that this, all of this, was some twisted illusion. His mind clung to the last vestiges of rationality, but fear gnawed at the edges of his thoughts, threatening to unravel him.
He blinked rapidly, forcing his vision to clear, but each second felt like an eternity. The pyre in the distance, the only source of light in that entire place flickered ominously, casting strange shadows that seemed to shift and writhe in the periphery of his gaze, almost as if the very darkness surrounding them was alive. But he didn't care about the fire—his world had narrowed to the still form of Tamara, and the gnawing fear that tightened like a noose around his throat.
Finally, after what felt like an age, he managed to pull himself onto his side, his gaze still locked onto Tamara. His arms quaked with the effort, his breath ragged and shallow. It took every ounce of willpower to keep his mind from unraveling further, from letting the panic take over completely. But as his fingers stretched toward her, inch by agonizing inch, he saw it—a flicker of movement.
His heart surged with hope.
Another flicker, this time more pronounced. Her hand twitched, fingers curling ever so slightly, as though responding to some deep, subconscious instinct. Relief flooded through him, but it was tempered by the cold dread still curling around his spine. it was not hard for sorken to comprehend that like him, she was also in a state of limbo and would not become consciousness soon unless her mind and body were completely stabilized.
His breathing stabilized as he made sure that Tamara was not in mortal danger, at least not yet.
He suddenly recalled the voice that woke him up. While focusing on his situation and looking for Tamara, he had been careless enough to act on his instincts even when the voice of that being was enough to make him numb and let go of his insanity.
That being or person was still in this room while he was playing his antics. They weren't alone. Something else was here. Watching. Waiting.