In every story humanity has told, there are gods. Beings of boundless power who shaped existence, forged destinies, and demanded reverence. The Greeks spoke of Zeus, the all-father whose lightning could tear the heavens apart. In Hinduism, Vishnu sustains the universe, an eternal guardian. And then there are the countless others — Yahweh, Odin, Amaterasu, Anubis — names whispered across millennia, etched into myths and hearts alike. Gods, in every form, have always existed.
Until now.
Where are they? Did they vanish into oblivion, abandon their creations, or retreat to some realm beyond mortal reach? The world today moves forward without them, a hollow echo of their ancient presence. Humanity forgot to ask the most pressing question: why did the gods disappear?
Ariyan adjusted his backpack, trudging across the worn concrete of the bridge. It was the kind of evening where the sky hung low with the weight of twilight, the dimming sun painting the horizon in hues of fading orange and deepening purple. The air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of traffic in the distance.
To him, it was just another day. College, lectures, and the mundane rhythm of life. He didn't mind it, really. Predictability had its comforts. As he walked, his thoughts drifted to dinner. Maybe tea. Maybe…
The thought broke mid-sentence, an almost audible snap in his mind.
The world around him was gone.
At first, Ariyan didn't panic. He stood still, blinking against the overwhelming blackness. It was too abrupt, too surreal. Surely, this was a dream. He had drifted into sleep while walking. Or maybe he'd slipped, hit his head. Any explanation grounded in logic was better than… whatever this was.
He reached out instinctively, feeling for something, anything. His hand grasped at nothing. Literally nothing. There was no texture, no warmth, no resistance. Just… absence. And yet, he remained upright, standing as if some invisible ground held him steady.
"Alright," he murmured, his voice unusually steady. "This is a weird one. Just need to wake up."
A deep breath confirmed he could breathe. The air felt neutral, without warmth or chill, but it was there. At least he wouldn't suffocate. For now.
Time passed — how much, he wasn't sure. Minutes? Hours? There were no landmarks, no way to gauge the passage of time in this endless void. He checked his phone. The screen lit up. 6:47 PM. The seconds ticked forward, mechanical and unaffected. But there was no signal, no connection to the world he knew. His watch showed the same time, a disconcerting confirmation that he was awake, not dreaming.
"This… is real," he muttered. The words settled uncomfortably in his chest.
This place wasn't just darkness. It was a void. True, infinite nothingness. And yet, it wasn't oppressive. If anything, it was… neutral. Devoid of malice, devoid of comfort. Simply there.
Ariyan's stomach growled, pulling him from his thoughts. He grimaced. Of all the sensations to persist, hunger wasn't the one he'd hoped for. As his mind wandered to food, something changed. A faint aroma tickled his senses. Familiar. Warm. Comforting.
He turned, startled. A table stood behind him. Sleek, unblemished wood against the void. On it, a steaming cup of tea.
He approached cautiously, the faint sound of his own footsteps grounding him in the surreal environment. The tea's aroma grew stronger. He recognized it instantly.
"This smells like mine," he said aloud, his voice echoing faintly before fading. He reached for the cup, his hand trembling. The porcelain was warm. Real. He took a sip.
Perfect. Exactly how he made it at home.
But he hadn't made this. And he was no longer at home.
His heart quickened as realization set in. This wasn't a dream. It couldn't be. Dreams didn't taste this vivid, didn't hold onto details like this. This was something else.
"What is this place?" he whispered.
As if in response, the void shifted. A faint hum reverberated through the nothingness, low and deep. It wasn't sound exactly. It was more like an ancient resonance, a presence older than language. His instincts screamed at him to run, but there was nowhere to go.
The hum grew louder, and with it came whispers, indistinct yet chilling. They weren't in any language Ariyan recognized, yet they filled his mind as though they belonged there, ancient and undeniable.
And then, he felt it. A faint pull, like gravity, tugging him forward. Toward what, he didn't know. But one thought echoed in his mind, unbidden and relentless:
They're watching.