The young boy's eyes gleamed with manic excitement as he surveyed the forest of statues. Each effigy loomed over him, their stony gazes no longer boring into his soul but igniting it with electric anticipation.
A crooked grin spread across his face.
He sauntered through the labyrinth of deities, energy crackled around him. The shimmering, iridescent haze pulsed with an unseen heartbeat, and his skin tingled with each surge. He giggled, twirling between Zeus and Athena like a deranged ballerina.
'Hello, old friends.' He tapped Zeus on the nose. 'Miss me?'
A chill slithered down his spine, but instead of recoiling, he leaned into the sensation. Something twisted and warped in front of him — a feeling of wrongness that made his heart race with delight.
Then he saw it.
Towering above the rest — a frog, easily thrice his height, with an unnaturally wide toothy grin. Its bulbous eyes seemed to follow him as he approached.
'Well, well, well.' The smiling boy tilted his head to the side. 'The spawn of hell wants to play here in this world too?'
His past life memories flooded back, bringing with them a tide of horror that crashed against shores of perverse fascination. His mind reeled, teetering on the edge of sanity.
'Interesting.' He circled the abomination. 'Why are you here, you beautiful monstrosity?'
He paused.
'I wonder if others have access to this Frog's power…'
The frog statue's grin seemed to widen, beckoning him closer. He felt a pull, an insidious whisper in the back of his mind urging him to reach out and touch the cold stone.
"Should I?" he mused, trembling with barely contained glee. 'Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I should!'
He lunged forward, slamming his palm against the cold stone. His fingers sank into the statue's surface as if it were liquid mercury. Colors danced before his eyes, shifting and morphing into impossible shapes. Familiar faces became distorted, their eyes glowing with an unnatural light. He heard whispers in his mind, voices that were both soothing and terrifying, promising him power and knowledge. A sense of euphoria washed over him, followed by a wave of dread. His thoughts were no longer his own — a swirling, swirling maelstrom.
'Get out of my head, you bastard,' the boy cackled, clutching at his temples. He collapsed to his knees, the weight of several lifetimes of memories crushing down on him. But instead of fighting it, he embraced it, letting it wash over him in dizzying waves.
The boy then found himself back in his messy bedroom. He looked at the gray cube that just spawned next to him. He pushed it under his bed.
A soft voice cut through the maelstrom. "Luka? Are you alright?"
His mother stood at the entrance. Concern etched deep lines in her face, making her look older than her thirty-five years.
Luka blinked, momentarily disoriented by the light streaming through the window. He struggled to his feet, swaying slightly.
"I'm fine, mother," he chirped, flashing her a grin. "Never better, in fact! Just had a bit of a — spiritual experience."
Her eyes narrowed. "You've awakened your space, haven't you?"
It wasn't really a question.
She asked, "What did you see?"
Luka hesitated, his mind racing. How could he possibly explain the exhilarating horror he just experienced? The power thrumming through his veins, begging to be unleashed?
"Oh, you know," he said, waving a hand dismissively. "Just a bunch of dusty old statues. Nothing to write home about."
His mother's expression softened, and she crossed the room to wrap him in a warm embrace. "Oh, Luka. You don't have to pretend with me. I remember how overwhelming it was when I first awakened my space." She pulled back, holding him at arm's length. "Whatever you saw, whatever you choose, I'm here for you."
For a moment, Luka felt a pang of guilt. He wanted to tell her everything, to share the intoxicating secret burning inside him. But the words died on his lips.
She wouldn't understand — couldn't understand — what he just experienced.
"Thanks, Mom," he murmured, forcing his features into a mask of innocence.
As if on cue, a distant explosion rocked the house. The alien sirens wailed. Haunting cries echoed through the streets. Luka's pulse quickened. A thrill of excitement shot through him.
His mother's face hardened. "They're getting bolder, attacking in broad daylight." She gripped her son's shoulders tightly. "Stay here. I have to go help with the defense."
Before Luka could say anything, she was gone, the door slamming shut behind her. He rushed to the window and watched people run for shelter. In the distance, he could see the twisted metal forms of the alien invaders. Their energy beams carved glowing red channels through concrete and steel, melting support beams like candle wax. Glass shattered as each blast rippled through building after building. A skyscraper groaned, its center dissolving into rubble, before folding in on itself like a closing accordion. The debris cloud rolled down the street, swallowing screaming crowds in its gray embrace. With each blast, another piece of the city transformed into a skeletal ruin. The aliens' weapons turned decades of human engineering into smoldering craters within seconds.
A slow, predatory smile spread across the boy's face. The cube under his bed pulsed, offering the power he craved. Power to make a difference. Power to reshape reality. Power to protect this world that had become his playground.
His fingers trembled as they closed around the cube, its surface unnaturally cold against his skin. A seam split its center, peeling back like petals of a mechanical flower, revealing something that should not exist — an eye. Its iris swirled with colors that had no names in any human tongue.
The eye looked at him with delight. It quivered in his grasp.