The one retrieved from The Void

Once again, he woke up on the skeletal remains of concrete structures. Towering remnants of a once-thriving metropolis now stood as ghostly sentinels, their reinforced bones exposed to the desolate sky. This time, he was utterly alone. No familiar faces, no comforting presence. Yet, a sense of purpose guided him. He began to walk, his gaze scanning the ruins with a newfound intensity, searching for clues, for answers, for anything that might explain this desolate reality.

Although he was fairly certain he'd found the answer, this desolate city might hold additional clues. Meticulously examining the ruins, he eventually stumbled upon the familiar white building. With a calmer perspective, he realized its striking resemblance to a hospital. Seated before it was the same enigmatic man from his dream.

The path leading to the building was an eerie spectacle. A concrete walkway was the only intact structure, accompanied by the skeletal remains of a once-grand fountain. The path bifurcated at the fountain, offering two routes around it, while a set of stairs ascended to the building's entrance.

He was quite sure that none of that was there five years ago, and the man was simply sitting there, being held down by the belts and straps. Vastian could still feel the creepy smile on his face.

"So," the man broke the silence, "have you reached an answer?"

Vastian pondered for a moment. Five years ago, when first confronted with the man's identity, he'd been utterly clueless. Yet, now, something clicked. The question, once insurmountable, seemed less daunting.

The first clue lay in the man's enigmatic title: "The one who was retrieved from the void." A peculiar phrase, he'd spent countless hours poring over history books, searching for a similar entity. The closest he'd come was a reference from an ancient civilization describing a "void" as a realm where forgotten things resided. A spark ignited within Vastian. Perhaps the man was someone lost to time, hence the phrase "retrieved from the void."

The second clue was more personal. He'd felt increasingly isolated since the fateful night five years ago. His father was consumed by Beck, his mother overworked, his brother enlisted, his aunt climbing the military ladder, and Aleara engrossed in her own world. He was a solitary figure in a bustling family.

His grandparents were equally preoccupied, involved in what seemed like endless political machinations beyond his comprehension.

It was only recently that a chilling realization had finally dawned on him. The blurred face, the inexplicable draw of the door, the man's enigmatic identity—all pieces of a puzzle that had haunted his dreams since childhood. And underlying it all was a profound sense of displacement, a secret he'd carried alone for a lifetime.

"I think I have it," Vastian said aloud, a touch of self-consciousness in his voice. "It's kind of weird talking to myself like this."

A wider smile spread across the man's face, a reflection of Vastian's own features aged by time. "What gave it away?" his older self asked.

"The door," Vastian replied. "All the other doors, while tempting, held an inexplicable repulsion. But that one..." He turned to look out the window. "With time, I realized it was familiarity. I knew that door, or at least a part of me did."

"So, it was the door that gave it away," Vastian's older version mused. "I honestly didn't expect that." He shrugged. "Nevermind, go to the building where the ritual is held after you wake up," he concluded.

"I don't think I can do that," Vastian replied.

"Don't worry about the Hek family or anything. Just stand up and go there. You'll be fine," his older self assured him.

Without another word, the surroundings began to disintegrate. Vastian jolted awake, drenched in sweat, his breath coming in ragged gasps. An eerie green light filtered through his bedroom window. Outside, the moon had turned an unnatural shade of green, and a thick, ominous fog enveloped the Hek mansion. An unseen force compelled him toward the ritual building.

As he ventured out, shadowy figures materialized within the mist. Some were colossal, others diminutive; some exuded ancient power, while others seemed heavy with a tangible presence. Yet, none impeded his path.

Reaching the front door, usually secured by his grandparents, he found it inexplicably open. A shadowy figure had performed this task. Inside, the ritual circle emitted a haunting emerald glow. Stepping into the circle, the door closed behind him. He sat in meditation, awaiting the unknown.

While Vastian was immersed in the ritual, a global phenomenon was unfolding. The celestial anomaly of the green moon had captured the world's attention, sparking a frenzy of speculation and fear. Scientists, astronomers, and religious leaders alike were baffled by the inexplicable occurrence.

Those attuned to the spiritual realm, individuals with bonds to divine entities, sought answers through meditation, prayer, and divination. Their findings were as varied as their beliefs, creating a tapestry of theories and prophecies. Simultaneously, the scientific community mobilized its resources. Observatories across the solar system were inundated with data as they studied the green moon phenomenon. International collaborations were formed to share information and develop potential explanations.

As news of the anomaly spread, a chilling realization dawned upon humanity: this was not an isolated event confined to a single world. Reports poured in from Caelum, Pyros, Thalassa, Zephyrus, and even the distant moon of Oniria. Each celestial body was experiencing its own version of the green moon phenomenon, a cosmic enigma that transcended planetary boundaries.

he situation was deteriorating rapidly. Amrita's behavior had taken an alarming turn; it was no longer receptive to any influence. Regardless of power, status, or connection to the divine, Amrita remained stubbornly unresponsive.

A jarring phone call shattered the tranquility of Clara and Arthur's sleep. "Chief, I apologize for disturbing you at this hour," a distressed female voice announced.

"What is it, Wendy?" Clara replied, her voice heavy with sleep.

"Chief, can you see outside?" Wendy asked urgently.

"We usually keep the curtains closed," Clara responded.

"Please open them," Wendy insisted.

A hint of irritation crept into Clara's voice. "Watch your tone, Wendy. This is an unreasonable hour to be woken up."

"Chief, once you open those curtains, you'll understand," Wendy replied, her voice filled with gravity.

Reluctantly, Clara opened the curtains. Both she and Arthur were instantly frozen in shock. The eerie green moon and the thick, ominous fog were unmistakable.

"And there's something else, Chief," Wendy continued. "None of the Bonded can influence Amrita now. Command wants to rule out any biological changes caused by the phenomenon."

"Wendy, what do we know about this?" Clara asked hurriedly as she rushed to get dressed. Arthur, meanwhile, was frantically contacting colleagues across the globe, but everyone was equally baffled.

"Not much, Chief. This isn't isolated to Gaia. Caelum, Pyros, Thalassa, Zephyrus, and even Oniria are reporting similar incidents," Wendy replied promptly.

"Honey," Clara said, turning to Arthur who was pacing nervously. "Do any of your friends have any insights?"

Arthur shook his head. "No, they're all in the dark too."

Their eyes met in a silent plea as they simultaneously tried to influence the surrounding Amrita. To their dismay, their efforts were futile. "I have to go, honey," Clara said, her voice filled with urgency. Arthur, meanwhile, was already on the phone, coordinating a response with his colleagues.

"I'm going to the institute. I might find something there," Arthur replied, his voice filled with determination.

Before leaving, they contacted Brandon, asking him to check on the children. Unfortunately, Brandon was out with Jacob and unable to reach the mansion. "There's a strange mist blocking our way," he explained.

Their faces mirrored each other's growing dread as they raced through the house. Their destination: their children's rooms. As they approached, sinister dark mists materialized before each door, an unseen force guarding the entrances. A chilling dread washed over them.

Just as they were about to confront this eerie barrier, Gerald and Abigail arrived with Celine, their faces etched with worry. They too encountered the impenetrable mist. Abigail, ever the impulsive one, tried to breach the barrier but was forcefully repelled.

A ghostly voice echoed from within the mist, its tone cold and authoritative, "You are not allowed."

"Not allowed?!" Abigail roared, her voice filled with fury. "This is my house! Nothing will stop me from checking on my grandchildren!" Yet, as she tried to assert her will, she realized with horror that Amrita was unresponsive. Her power, usually absolute within her home, was nullified.

A sudden noise outside drew their attention. Through the window, a monstrous, glowing yellow eye stared back at them.

"Stay still," an ancient, echoing voice commanded. "Do nothing."

That voice sowed the seeds of terror deep within their souls. Its mere presence was a palpable weight, a harbinger of nightmares.

"The Forgotten," Gerald murmured, his voice filled with dread. "Are you perhaps one of them?" he asked the void. Though there was no response, he considered it confirmation.