Astronomer Dr. Eliza Morgan had spent her life studying the stars. Her work at the remote Mount Vires Observatory had led to groundbreaking discoveries about the cosmos, but nothing could have prepared her for what she witnessed on that fateful night.
It began as a routine observation. Eliza and her assistant, Mark, were tracking a faint anomaly in the constellation Orion—a distortion in the fabric of space-time that defied explanation. At first, it was little more than a blip on their instruments, but as the hours passed, the anomaly grew larger, more pronounced. The stars around it seemed to warp, their light bending unnaturally.
"It's like… a tear," Mark said, his voice trembling as he stared at the data. "A tear in the sky."
Eliza tried to rationalize it. A gravitational anomaly, perhaps, or a previously unknown celestial phenomenon. But deep down, she felt a growing unease. The universe had always been vast and unknowable, but this felt different. It felt wrong.
The next night, the sky above the observatory changed. Stars shifted positions, forming patterns that made no sense. The air grew heavy, oppressive, as if the very atmosphere was holding its breath. Eliza and Mark watched in horrified fascination as the anomaly expanded, a jagged, black fissure splitting the heavens.
Then came the whispers.
At first, they were faint, barely audible—a cacophony of voices speaking in a language that defied comprehension. The whispers seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, vibrating through the air and resonating in Eliza's skull. She felt a deep, primal fear take hold, a sense that they were witnessing something they were never meant to see.
Mark was the first to crack. "We need to leave," he said, his voice shaking. "Close the observatory. Seal it off. Now."
Eliza wanted to agree, but her scientific curiosity overpowered her fear. She adjusted the telescope, zooming in on the fissure. What she saw made her blood run cold. The anomaly wasn't just a tear—it was a window. And on the other side, something moved.
It was vast, its form shifting and pulsating in ways that defied logic. It wasn't a creature, not in any sense Eliza could understand. It was a being of pure chaos, a manifestation of the incomprehensible. The whispers grew louder, more insistent, as if the being was trying to communicate.
"Eliza," Mark said, his voice barely audible over the noise. "We need to go. Please."
Eliza tore her gaze away from the telescope, her mind reeling. She grabbed Mark's arm and they fled the observatory, the whispers following them as they ran. Outside, the sky was alive, the stars writhing like insects. The fissure had grown, stretching across the horizon as if the universe itself was unraveling.
They reached their car, but the engine wouldn't start. The whispers grew deafening, a cacophony of madness that made it impossible to think. Eliza looked up and saw it—the being emerging from the fissure, its form blotting out the stars. Its presence was overwhelming, a force of nature that made her feel infinitesimal, insignificant.
Mark screamed, clutching his head as the whispers consumed his mind. Eliza could only watch in horror as he collapsed, his body convulsing. She felt her own sanity slipping, the weight of the cosmos pressing down on her. She closed her eyes, praying for it to end.
When she opened them, the sky was normal. The stars were in their rightful places, the fissure gone as if it had never existed. Mark lay motionless on the ground, his eyes staring blankly at the sky. Eliza knelt beside him, her hands trembling as she checked for a pulse. He was alive, but his mind was gone, his eyes vacant and unseeing.
The whispers were gone, but the memory lingered—a constant hum in the back of her mind. Eliza returned to the observatory, but it was empty. Her equipment was intact, her notes undisturbed, but the anomaly was nowhere to be found. The event left no trace, no evidence that it had ever happened.
Except in her mind.
Eliza continued her work, but the stars no longer held the same wonder. Every night, she would look up at the sky, wondering if the fissure would return. Wondering if the whispers were still there, waiting for her. She knew, deep down, that the being was still out there, watching. And she knew, one day, it would return.