The discovery came without warning. Dr. Ethan Cross, an astrophysicist working at the Lowell Observatory, was reviewing data from a deep-space telescope when he noticed it—a faint, pulsing light in a distant galaxy. What made it unusual wasn't its brightness but its behavior. The light didn't follow the laws of physics. It seemed to breathe, expanding and contracting like a living thing.
Ethan called it the "Shattered Star." He knew the name was poetic, but he couldn't describe it any other way. The light didn't just pulse—it fractured, as if the very fabric of space was breaking apart around it. He became obsessed, spending sleepless nights analyzing the data, convinced it was the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe.
But as Ethan studied the Shattered Star, something changed. He began to have vivid dreams—visions of an endless void filled with incomprehensible shapes and colors. He woke up drenched in sweat, his mind reeling from the sheer vastness of what he had seen. The dreams felt too real, too lucid, to be mere fantasies. They were messages.
The first sign of physical change came a week later. Ethan noticed a faint, iridescent mark on his forearm, like a scar that shimmered when the light hit it. It didn't hurt, but it was unnerving. He tried to dismiss it as a rash, but it grew larger, its patterns shifting and writhing as if alive.
Then the hallucinations started. Ethan would see the Shattered Star in the corner of his vision, its light flickering like a dying flame. The air around him would grow cold, and he would hear whispers—voices that weren't his own, speaking in a language he couldn't understand but somehow knew was ancient.
The final straw came when he looked through the telescope again. The Shattered Star wasn't just a light anymore. It was a gateway—a jagged, pulsating rift in the fabric of reality. And something was coming through.
Ethan felt a pull, as if the Shattered Star was calling to him. He knew he had to warn someone, but the words wouldn't come. His mind was fracturing, his thoughts consumed by the visions. The mark on his arm had spread, its iridescent patterns covering most of his body. He could feel it moving beneath his skin, as if it were part of him now.
One night, Ethan collapsed in the observatory. His body convulsed, his eyes glowing with the same light as the Shattered Star. The air around him shimmered, and the whispers grew deafening. He looked up at the night sky and saw the stars begin to move, their light twisting into impossible patterns.
When the authorities found him, Ethan was gone. His body was still there, but it wasn't him anymore. His eyes were hollow, his expression blank. The mark on his body pulsed with a faint, otherworldly light, and his mouth moved, forming words no human could pronounce.
The Shattered Star disappeared from the data shortly after, as if it had never existed. But Ethan's body remained, a grim reminder of what had happened. The authorities locked it away, but no one could explain the mark or the light that still emanated from it.