In my dreams, I am a king, seated upon a throne of pure cloud—a sovereign who commands the skies and the earth below. My greatest joy in this realm is watching over my subjects from above, their lives filled with happiness and harmony. I am not a tyrant, but a just ruler, beloved by my people.
But then the plague came. A merciless force that devoured all life, leaving only despair in its wake. My kingdom, once vibrant, began to wither. The joyous laughter of my people turned to cries of anguish, and soon they gathered at the gates of my palace, desperate for salvation. They begged me to save them, to end their suffering.
Yet, I was powerless. The plague had already claimed me as its victim. My body was riddled with its curse, dark patches spreading across my skin, devouring me from the inside out. I knew my time was short.
One by one, my people succumbed, leaving me alone—king of a kingdom reduced to silence and ash. And so, I sat upon my throne for the last time, watching as the world faded around me, until there was nothing left but the memory of what once was.
I woke with a jolt, my heart racing and my skin damp with sweat. Tears clung to the corners of my eyes, the dream lingering like a shadow in my mind. The throne of clouds, the power, the kingdom—all of it was gone. I blinked and found myself back in my cluttered room, surrounded by the all-too-familiar chaos of my real life. Half-eaten noodles sat on the desk, the leftovers of another rushed meal, and my computer screen still glowed faintly with last night's unfinished mathematics notes.
My gaze darted to the clock. 9:10 PM. Panic surged through me. My lecture—it had started at 9:00 PM. I was already late.
I flung the sheets off and scrambled around the room, yanking on a pair of jeans and tugging a crumpled jumper over my head. Grabbing my bag, I bolted out the door and into the night.
The air was crisp as I sprinted towards Rinsoul University. It wasn't the best school in the world—not by a long shot—but the architecture made up for it. The towering arches, the old stone buildings illuminated by soft yellow lights, held a strange charm that had drawn me here in the first place.
The lecture was held in one of the university's oldest and most captivating buildings, its walls adorned with intricate patterns of blue gemstones that shimmered like frozen waves. They caught the light in a way that made it seem as though the ocean itself pulsed beneath the stone. As I approached the door, it creaked ominously on its hinges, announcing my lateness before I even stepped inside.
The room was packed. Students filled every row, and the lecturer—an imposing man with sharp features—glanced at me as I entered. His disapproving shake of the head was subtle but unmistakable. Without missing a beat in his lecture, he returned his gaze to the class while I awkwardly shuffled to the only empty seat, naturally at the very front.
I dared a glance at the wall clock. 9:30 PM. Thirty minutes late. Great.
As I lowered myself into the seat, a loud, unnatural crack echoed through the room, like glass shattering but with no clear source. It wasn't from the door, the windows, or even the old wooden furniture. Heads swivelled toward me as though I'd caused it, and heat rushed to my face.
"You don't just show up late—you've got to make a scene too, Mr.…" the professor drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Tom, sir," I stammered, my face flushing a deeper red. "But that noise wasn't me."
Before he could respond, a piercing scream erupted from outside the lecture hall, cutting through the room like a blade. Everyone froze, eyes darting toward the door. The sound of frantic footsteps and muffled sobbing drifted in, growing louder and more desperate. My stomach twisted, a chill washing over me as the air seemed to thicken.
And then, another scream—this one closer, from within the lecture theater itself. Heads snapped upward to the topmost row, where a girl stood trembling, her hand outstretched toward the window.
"Look!" she cried, her voice barely above a whisper but filled with terror.
Chaos erupted. Students scrambled over one another to reach the window, some tripping and falling in their haste. I remained rooted to my seat, my body frozen as though the air itself had turned to ice.
"Settle down!" the professor barked, his voice rising above the commotion. He pushed his way through the crowd to the window, his usual air of authority faltering as he reached it. His hand flew to his mouth, and a choked sound—almost a squeak—escaped him. Without a word, he turned and bolted for the door.
Some students followed him, while others remained glued to the window. Slowly, I forced myself to my feet and made my way toward the growing crowd. My pulse thundered in my ears, each step heavier than the last.
When I finally reached the window and looked outside, my breath caught in my throat. The sky was shattered.
Cracks spread across the heavens like broken glass, fragments revealing patches of impossible colours. Some splits glowed with an otherworldly blue, while others were consumed by deep voids dotted with stars that shouldn't have been visible—it was still the middle of the day.
And then, from the jagged fractures, things began to fall.
Shapes tumbled from the rifts, silhouetted against the fractured light. Some were small and shadowy, while others were massive, their outlines impossible to comprehend. I stumbled back, the overwhelming sight sending a surge of nausea through me. My legs gave out, and I landed hard on the floor.
A swirling, golden smoke began to seep into the room, curling like liquid fire through the door's cracks and the windows' edges. It shimmered unnaturally, catching the fractured light from outside as it drifted in. The remaining students panicked, rushing to block the gaps with their jackets, books, and anything else they could grab. Others clamped their hands over their mouths, desperately holding their breath.
But it was futile.
The smoke was relentless, creeping past every barrier. The moment anyone inhaled it, their eyes glazed over, distant and empty, as though their minds had been stolen. They stood frozen, statues in the chaos, unmoving but eerily alive.
My heart raced as I scrambled back, trying to push myself away from the golden mist as it crept closer. My chest burned, my lungs begging for air, but I held on, desperate to avoid the same fate.
And then I faltered.
I couldn't hold my breath any longer. With a gasp, I inhaled, and the golden smoke poured in like a living force. Warmth flooded through me, comforting but suffocating. My vision blurred, and the room around me seemed to stretch and twist, the sounds of panic fading to a dull hum.
My limbs grew heavy, my thoughts slower, and the world around me faded into a haze. I fought to stay conscious, to resist the smoke's strange hold, but it was too late. It was already inside me.