As I open my eyes, I'm pulled from a cold slumber by the sharp tap of water dripping through the ceiling, landing squarely in the center of my palm, which rests on my knee. The room is dark—almost completely—except for a faint shaft of light filtering through a small hole in the wall beside me.
I slowly push myself up, only to stumble against an unmoving box, solid and oddly immovable, like it's been fused to the floor. Curious, I crouch beside it and examine the surface before prying it open. Inside, resting alone, is a strange, smooth sphere—small, cyan, and humming softly with an energy I can't quite place.
As I lift it, it begins to glow—faint at first, then brighter as I shift it around. When I bring it close to my chest, the light intensifies until it's almost blinding. Before I can react, the sphere pulses and vanishes—absorbed straight into my body.
Panic surges through me. I clutch at my chest, but there's nothing there. No pain, no wound—just a strange, electric rush coursing through me, like I've chugged a dozen cups of coffee in seconds. Once the adrenaline settles and my breathing slows, I notice something new: a door that wasn't there before, now etched into the wall.
Its handle glows softly, almost beckoning.
I step closer and slowly crack it open, peering through the gap, my eyes searching for movement—for any sign of danger waiting on the other side.
The hallway beyond the door is dim, pulsing faintly with blue light, like veins beneath skin. The walls are smooth, metallic, and eerily silent. I hesitate on the threshold, still buzzing from the sphere's strange energy. My hand brushes the glowing handle again—it's cool now, lifeless, as if its job is done.
I step through.
My bare feet make no sound on the floor, which seems to hum faintly underfoot, like it's alive or listening. I glance back. The door I came through is gone, replaced by a seamless stretch of wall. No handle, no mark. I'm sealed in.
A soft chime echoes down the corridor. Not mechanical—almost melodic, like wind chimes in a dream. I follow it.
As I move deeper, I notice small orbs like the one I absorbed, floating gently in recesses in the wall—each pulsing with dim, different-colored light: amber, violet, emerald. They don't react to my presence, but I can feel them watching, somehow. Or maybe I'm just becoming paranoid.
Then I hear it. A voice. Distant, and distorted—like it's underwater.
"...synchronization... stage one... successful..."
I freeze.
Was that directed at me?
Another door materializes ahead—this one transparent, and beyond it, a room filled with tall pillars of light. In the center, a figure stands. Motionless. Human-shaped, but too still. As if waiting.
I swallow hard, every instinct screaming to run.
But the energy inside me hums with a strange pull—like I'm being drawn forward. Like whatever this is… it was expecting me.
I step toward the transparent door. It doesn't open. No panel, no handle. Just cold, solid material separating me from the figure inside. I press my palm against it, and the moment I do, the room reacts.
The lights between the pillars flicker, then spiral upward, wrapping around the figure like strands of energy. Slowly, the person lifts their head. A woman—pale, with hair floating around her face as if underwater. Her eyes glow faintly, the same cyan hue as the sphere.
She mouths something. I can't hear it.
Then the door vanishes.
No sound, no warning—just gone.
She takes one slow step forward. I take one back, but the room behind me has dissolved into nothing—pure black. We are alone, suspended in light and void.
"You're awake," she says, voice distant and echoing, like it's not coming from her lips at all. "Good. We don't have much time."
My mouth opens, but no words come out.
"The sphere was the key," she continues. "You've bonded with it. That means the others will come for you now."
"Others?" I manage to whisper.
She nods, eyes narrowing. "The ones who failed the bond. The ones the system rejected. They're... unstable."
A sudden jolt runs through the room, and the pillars begin to dim.
"They've found us," she says.
And with a wave of her hand, the entire space fractures—shards of reality splitting like glass, and we fall.