A thousand questions raced through his mind. Should he lay low, try to blend in, and avoid altering anything? The logical side of him screamed that any interference would be dangerous, that he should simply observe and gather information. Yet, the part of him that had always craved adventure, the part that had found himself drawn to the forgotten memories, urged him to dig deeper.
He thought back to Theo. Had Theo been here too? Was this altered history a result of Theo's presence, his actions? Or was Theo simply another victim of this distorted reality, lost in the labyrinthine weave of memory and myth?
Michael felt the weight of the decision pressing down on him, his own consciousness stretched thin between the past and the present. He clenched his fists, grounding himself, and made a choice: he would explore, carefully. He would seek out the hidden threads of this altered history, but he would tread lightly, as though walking through a fragile dream.
---
The city around me buzzed with a kind of energy I couldn't ignore. Everything felt… alive. There was the sky, crimson and swirling with storm clouds, the air thick with the sense of something forgotten yet crucial. And then there were the people, creatures, machines—all moving together as if this bizarre reality was the most natural thing in the world.
And there I was, like some misplaced jigsaw piece forced into a puzzle that didn't want me. Logic said to lay low, to watch from the sidelines, like some uninvited spectator, cataloging what I saw without stirring the waters. But a quiet voice in the back of my mind kept asking, What if I reached out, touched a thread of this place, pulled on it? What would I unravel?
Temptation felt like a slow-burning fuse, inching closer to something that could either enlighten me or destroy me. The side of me that craved order, predictability—it was screaming at me to resist. But then… there was the other side. The part of me that had always been curious, that had always wondered what if.
I remembered the books, the history classes, all the well-organized narratives people cling to as fact. They never covered this. They never spoke of worlds where myth breathed life, where forgotten stories mingled with reality to reshape the world into something altogether new. Someone should know, I thought. Someone should write it all down. But then again, how could I be so sure it wasn't dangerous to even remember?
Somewhere beneath the calm, orderly façade I'd built up over the years, a quiet thrill pulsed through me. This was something unknown, untouched. There was no path ahead of me, no worn-down trail to follow. Every choice could be a chapter. Every movement could leave a scar on the fabric of time.
It was tempting—this idea of leaning in, of dipping a toe into the current and feeling where it might carry me. I wasn't some all-powerful hero here; I was just another traveler lost in a world beyond understanding. But maybe… maybe I had a chance to understand something. Or even change something.
And just as that thought bloomed, it was followed by the inevitable realization: change —here, in a place that didn't belong to me—came with a cost.
The weight of it all settled over me as I stood there. The world around me, red-lit and half-familiar, shifted as if it too could feel my hesitation. It felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into an abyss that didn't promise anything but possibility.
---
Yet, even as he made the decision, he felt a faint sense of dread. This world, this altered past, was like a living thing. It pulsed with awareness, with secrets that wanted to remain hidden. And as he stepped further into its depths, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched.