The ceiling above him was a testament to neglect, its cracked surface spreading like a spider's web across his vision. White paint flaked invisibly onto his unmoving form, each speck a reminder of time's relentless march. Emperal's silver eyes traced the patterns absently, as he had done every day for as long as he could remember. The ceiling, for all its flaws, remained unchanged—a constant in his stagnant life.
But it wasn't the ceiling that held him captive. It wasn't the cold metal of his bedframe or the frailty of his unresponsive limbs. His true prison was far crueler: the power within him.
From birth, Emperal had been cursed with stillness. His body, lifeless as a marionette with its strings cut, refused to obey his will. Yet, somewhere deep within him, a force so extraordinary pulsed like a second heartbeat. He could move the world with his thoughts, command objects with a precision that bordered on divine. But no matter how vast his power, it could not lift him.
The breeze through the open window was a fleeting mercy. It carried the sounds of a bustling world outside: the hum of engines, the chatter of strangers, the occasional burst of laughter. A world so vibrant, so alive, it mocked his stillness.
His room was as barren as his existence. A single bed. A sagging wooden shelf burdened with dusty books. A cluttered desk where papers lay scattered, their edges curled from age. The heart monitor beside him beeped steadily, the last remaining piece of medical equipment deemed necessary. The books were his only companions—volumes on physics, metaphysics, philosophy. He hadn't chosen them out of love but necessity. If his body was trapped, his mind would roam. He would learn the rules of the world, not to follow them, but to dream of breaking them.
Yet today, even his mind felt weary.
A creak interrupted the silence, and the door swung open.
"Emperal."
It was Maria, the nurse who had tended to him for years. She stepped in with the same practiced ease she always did, her face carefully blank, though her eyes betrayed a flicker of pity. The silver pendant at her throat—his Christmas gift from last year—caught the afternoon light.
"Time for your injection," she said, approaching his bedside.
"Ah," he replied, his voice a flat monotone. "Another highlight of my thrilling life."
She didn't laugh. She never did. Her hands moved efficiently as she prepared the syringe, the slight clink of metal the only sound in the room.
"You've been quiet today," she remarked, her tone conversational but distant.
"Have I?" he replied, tilting his head as much as his limited mobility allowed. "I didn't realize I was so talkative before."
She gave no response, only a faint shake of her head. The needle slid into his arm, the sharp prick barely registering to him anymore.
"I'll check on you later," Maria said, standing and turning toward the door.
"Maria," he called after her.
She paused, glancing back.
"If there's an afterlife," he said, his voice soft, "a place where I'm normal... I'd make you my girlfriend."
Her eyes widened briefly before she forced a smile, the kind meant to humor a dying man. "Don't say things like that," she murmured and left, the door clicking shut behind her.
Through the window, a young couple caught his attention. The man stopped beneath a blooming cherry tree, dropped to one knee, and presented a ring that caught the afternoon light. His partner's joyful cry carried faintly through the glass, accompanied by happy tears and emphatic nodding. Something in Emperal's chest tightened, his power surging with sudden emotion. The lights in his room flickered violently, and books trembled on their shelves. Maria, passing in the hallway, paused at the disturbance. Her hand moved instinctively to the silver pendant at her throat, but she didn't look back. Her footsteps faded, leaving him alone with an ache that no power could soothe.
The sky outside began to darken unnaturally, clouds gathering like his turbulent thoughts. His eyes shifted to the desk. With a single thought, he lifted it, watching it dance in the air before him. Such a simple thing—a pen floating in space. Yet he could feel the raw power thrumming through him, vast enough to reshape reality itself.The pen spun slowly, catching the fading light. He could write symphonies with it, create masterpieces, or tear the building apart brick by brick. The power was infinite, boundless, and utterly useless for the one thing he truly wanted.
"What's the point?" he muttered as he let it drop with a sharp clatter against the desk.
For 24 years, he had endured this. A god in mind, a prisoner in body. The frustration built in him like a storm, the weight of his stillness suffocating.
"Why me?" His voice cracked, and his fingers twitched weakly against the bedsheets. "What's the purpose of this... curse?"
He clenched his teeth, his silver eyes narrowing. "Enough. I've had enough."
The building shuddered violently, and Maria's muffled voice called out from below. "What's happening?!"
As the walls cracked around him, years of studying parallel universes and dimensional theory crystallized into sudden clarity. The endless hours spent pouring over quantum mechanics and string theory – what he'd dismissed as mere intellectual exercises now felt like preparation. Reality bent around him, warping and twisting as his power finally broke free of all restraint. The heart monitor flatlined with a piercing wail as his physical form remained motionless on the bed, but his consciousness soared upward, breaking through dimensions like a butterfly emerging from a lifelong chrysalis.
"Goodbye, Maria," he whispered, a strange calm settling over him. "I'll miss you."
The ceiling groaned under the strain, cracks widening until the entire structure buckled. His room, perched on the top floor, collapsed inward with a deafening roar.
"EMPERAL!" Maria's scream echoed through the chaos as an explosion tore through the building, obliterating the upper floor.
The world dissolved into light and shadow, and for the first time in twenty-four years, Emperal moved—not his body, but his essence, torn free from its earthly prison and cast into the void.
Darkness. Infinite, oppressive, consuming.
A single blue sphere floated in the vast void, pulsing faintly. It drifted aimlessly, its light flickering as though caught between life and death.
Time ceased to exist. Seconds stretched into millennia, and the sphere continued its journey, unbound by any rules.
Then, it began to spin. Slowly at first, then faster, until the void itself seemed to bend and twist around it. A vortex formed, tearing through the nothingness like a wound. The sphere was drawn into its center, vanishing in a flash of light.
The vortex spat the sphere out into a world unlike anything it ever knew. A vast forest stretched as far as the eye could see, its towering trees shimmering with ethereal light. The ground beneath him sparkled with a golden hue, and the air buzzed with an energy that felt alive.
A young man lay in a pool of blood, his chest rising and falling weakly. Around him, corpses littered the forest floor, their faces frozen in terror.
A woman stood on a nearby tree branch, her pointed ears and silver hair marking her as something otherworldly. She watched him with a cold, unreadable expression.
"You were brave," she said, her voice soft but firm. "But bravery alone is never enough."
For a moment, something flickered in her eyes—regret? Sadness? Then she turned, disappearing into the shadows of the forest.
And there he lay, beneath an alien sky, as the blood pooled beneath him.