"One second away from scientific history," Lysander Thorn muttered, adjusting the final calibrations on the quantum frequency oscillator.
The high school physics lab hummed with energy—both from the experimental equipment and from Mrs. Winters pacing nervously behind him. The old physics teacher had initially rejected his proposal for the science fair, calling it "theoretically implausible," but Lysander's detailed schematics had eventually won her over.
No one else believed a sixteen-year-old could build a functioning quantum resonance detector, much less prove his theory about cross-dimensional frequencies.
That was fine. Lysander was used to being the odd one out.
"Mr. Thorn, we have exactly seven minutes before the faculty meeting," Mrs. Winters reminded him, checking her watch for the third time in as many minutes. "I'm already risking my career letting you use the lab unsupervised."
"Almost there," he said, not looking up from the display screen. Green numbers flashed across the monitor, particles aligning exactly as his calculations had predicted. "The quantum field is stabilizing."
His fingers flew across the keyboard, making minor adjustments. Outside, rain lashed against the windows, a spring storm that had emptied the school early. Thunder cracked overhead—perfect atmospheric conditions for his experiment.
Lysander wasn't like the other science fair participants with their baking soda volcanoes and solar system models. He'd spent the last two years developing this theory—that all reality vibrated at specific frequencies, and with the right equipment, those frequencies could be detected and potentially modulated.
His parents called it an obsession. His classmates called him a freak. But if he was right...
The oscillator's central chamber began to glow with soft blue light.
"Is it supposed to do that?" Mrs. Winters asked, taking a step back.
"Absolutely," Lysander lied. The glow wasn't in his calculations, but the readings were too perfect to stop now.
The storm outside intensified, rain hammering against the windows like desperate fingers trying to get in. Another crack of thunder, this one close enough to make the fluorescent lights flicker.
"I'm getting quantum resonance patterns," Lysander said, excitement overtaking caution. On the monitor, waves pulsed in synchronized patterns he'd only theorized. "It's working!"
The blue glow intensified, casting strange shadows across the lab. Mrs. Winters backed toward the door.
"Mr. Thorn, I think we should power down and continue tomorrow."
"Just thirty more seconds," he insisted, eyes fixed on the readings. "I'm detecting a harmonic frequency that shouldn't be possible, but it's registering clear as day. This could redefine our understanding of quantum physics!"
The oscillator's hum deepened to a vibration he could feel in his chest. The blue light pulsed now, synchronized with the wave patterns on the screen.
*Twenty seconds.*
Numbers scrolled faster than he could read them, data points confirming his theories and revealing new patterns he hadn't anticipated.
*Ten seconds.*
A strange sensation washed over him—like the feeling of someone walking over his grave, but throughout his entire body. The air seemed to thicken, pressure building in his ears.
*Five seconds.*
"Something's wrong," he said, reaching for the emergency shutdown.
Too late.
The oscillator's blue light flared blindingly bright. A high-pitched whine cut through the air as reality itself seemed to vibrate around him. Lysander felt his atoms resonating with the machine, his very existence becoming unstable.
"Mrs. Winters!" he shouted, but his voice sounded wrong—stretched and distorted.
The physics teacher lunged for the main power switch, but her movements appeared slowed, as if she were moving through honey. The distance between them seemed to expand impossibly.
The last thing Lysander saw was Mrs. Winters's horrified expression as the blue light engulfed him. Then, reality tore open.
He didn't so much fall as dissolve, his consciousness scattered across an impossible spectrum of frequencies. For an eternal moment, Lysander Thorn existed everywhere and nowhere, his being reduced to pure vibration.
Then, abruptly, he was whole again—and falling.
His body slammed into something solid, knocking the wind from his lungs. The world spun as he gasped for breath, every cell in his body humming with residual energy.
"Breathe, Otherworlder. First time through the Veil is always rough."
The voice was melodic and unfamiliar. Lysander forced his eyes open, then immediately questioned his sanity.
He lay sprawled on a smooth stone platform in the center of what appeared to be a massive crystalline chamber. Sunlight—or something like it—streamed through translucent walls, refracting into impossible colors. And standing over him was...
"What the hell?" Lysander croaked.
The figure looking down at him appeared mostly human, except for the faintly luminescent skin and eyes that shifted color like oil on water.
"Crude, but understandable," the being said with a slight smile. "My name is Elysia Nightwhisper. I am a Wayfinder of Primoria, and you, fortunate soul, have just made an unscheduled arrival through the Worldgate."
Lysander pushed himself to his knees, fighting a wave of nausea. "I'm hallucinating. The experiment caused some kind of seizure, and this is all happening in my oxygen-deprived brain."
Elysia laughed, the sound like chimes in a gentle breeze. "An adorably scientific explanation, but incorrect. You've crossed the Veil between worlds, specifically into Axiom—the Ninefold Realm."
"That's impossible," Lysander insisted, though the persistent reality around him argued otherwise. The air tasted different—sweeter, somehow, with undertones of spice and electricity. His skin tingled as if the atmosphere itself was charged with energy.
"Stand, if you can," Elysia said, offering a slender hand. "The Resonance sickness will pass momentarily."
He ignored her hand, struggling to his feet alone. The chamber swayed around him, but he managed to stay upright through sheer stubbornness.
"I need to get back," he said, turning to look for... what? A door? A portal? His quantum oscillator was nowhere in sight. "My teacher saw what happened. They'll be looking for me."
"The Veil doesn't work that way," Elysia said, her expression softening with what might have been pity. "Transitions are rarely bidirectional, especially unplanned ones."
Before Lysander could respond, something small and fast darted between his legs. He stumbled backward as the creature—about the size of a fox but covered in iridescent scales—bounded onto a nearby crystal formation.
"Don't mind Zephyr," Elysia said casually. "He's harmless... mostly."
The creature tilted its head, studying Lysander with intelligent, swirling eyes. Then, impossibly, a voice spoke directly into his mind.
*Another stray from beyond. This one feels... different.*
Lysander yelped, stumbling backward. "It's in my head!"
"He, not it," Elysia corrected. "And yes, Zephyr communicates telepathically with those he chooses. Consider it a compliment."
*Your resonance pattern is unusual,* the creature continued. *Discordant yet harmonious. Interesting.*
"This can't be happening," Lysander whispered, but even as he said it, his scientific mind was cataloging details: the impossible architecture, the strange quality of light, the mathematical precision of the crystal formations around him.
Elysia stepped closer, her color-shifting eyes examining him with unnerving intensity. "You're the fourth Otherworlder this cycle, but the first to arrive with such... resonant potential. The Council will definitely want to see you."
"I'm not seeing any council," Lysander said, backing away. "I'm finding a way home."
A distant sound like thunder rolled through the chamber, causing the crystals to vibrate with harmonic tones. Elysia's expression darkened.
"That decision may not be yours to make," she said, as Zephyr leapt to her shoulder. "The Void stirs, and your arrival is no coincidence. Welcome to Axiom, Lysander Thorn. Your real life is about to begin."
Lysander stared at her in confusion. "How do you know my name? I never told you my name."
Elysia's lips curved into an enigmatic smile. "The Veil whispers many secrets to those who know how to listen."
Another rumble shook the chamber, closer this time. Dust and small crystal shards rained from above.
"We need to move," Elysia said, suddenly all business. "Void Harbingers never miss an unscheduled Veil crossing."
"Void what?"
"Explanations while walking," she said, grabbing his wrist. Her touch sent strange vibrations up his arm, like tuning forks meeting the same frequency. "Unless you'd prefer to die during your first hour in Axiom?"
As if to punctuate her question, a section of the crystalline wall exploded inward. Through the dust and debris, Lysander glimpsed writhing shadows with too many limbs.
"Running sounds good," he agreed, his scientific skepticism giving way to pure survival instinct.
And so Lysander Thorn, aspiring physicist and reluctant dimensional traveler, took his first steps into a world governed by laws he'd only begun to theorize—a world where his greatest failure had just become his most important discovery.