I hear screaming—piercing, relentless. It's as if the sound is pounding against my skull. I try to flinch away, but my body refuses to move.

Silence. The screaming stops abruptly, replaced by the distant sound of moving water. I still can't move, and heavy fatigue washes over me. Sleep tugs at the edges of my consciousness, but I fight it.

HHSSSSS

A sudden hiss echoes around me—a rush of air—as sensation floods back into my limbs. My eyes feel glued shut, crusted over with something gritty. I attempt to sit up, but my head spins from the sudden movement. Instinctively, I reach up to steady my spinning head and wince as something sharp grazes my hand.

"Fuck, now everything hurts."

I try to rub my forehead but jab my palm against something hard protruding from my head.

"What?"

Carefully this time, I feel the area—horns. Actual horns jutting from my skull. Panic flares, my heartbeat quickening. What the hell is happening to me? I force myself to take a shaky breath. While it's alarming—and I desperately want to understand why I have them—I have other priorities.

"I need to get out of here first."

I attempt to stand, but my head smacks into something solid—glass. Pain radiates through my skull.

"God damn it!"

Frantically searching for a way out—a button, a lever, anything—my eyes adjust to the dimness, revealing a small crack in the glass directly in front of me. It must have been here before I woke up.

Hope flickers inside me.

I press my fingers against the crack, feeling its jagged edges. Maybe it's a weak point. I start pounding on the glass, aiming for the fracture. Despite my efforts, the crack refuses to grow.

Peering through the glass, I see only darkness punctuated by the faint outline of a cave. No signs of life. No help coming.

There's nothing here?

Desperation tightens around me, making it hard to breathe. I tear at the seams of the pod, searching for any loose panels. I ram my shoulder against the door, ignoring the dull ache spreading through my arm. Using the horns, I try to pry open gaps between the door and the pod, but sharp stabs of pain force me to stop.

"Useless."

Figures I'd end up trapped in a defective hunk of junk. Probably some failed government project—cheap parts and no accountability. Politicians lining their pockets while I rot in here.

My anger surges. I slam my fist against the control panel, the impact jarring up my arm. Tearing at the cushioning, I rip it apart, each shred lessening the suffocating grip of confinement. The more I destroy, the less trapped I feel.

As I thrash, a shimmering blue fog begins to fill the pod. It swirls around me, thickest near my head.

"What is this?"

I pause, watching the fog twist and dance. I reach out, and it coils around my fingers, cool and tingling.

As I focus on it, the fog gathers more densely. Suddenly, with a sharp hiss, the door releases—a rush of cool, damp air hitting my face. Without thinking, I lunge forward, bursting out of the pod.

As soon as I leap out, I stretch, feeling the stiffness in my joints ease. I look around and take a deep breath, the cool air filling my lungs. The cavern stretches out before me, illuminated by a faint, eerie glow reflecting off damp walls that glisten like wet steel.

The space around me is dimly lit, with light filtering down from a staircase ahead. Behind me, the cavern stretches into darkness, its walls slick with moisture. The air is humid but cool, carrying a slight briny scent that makes me wrinkle my nose. Saltwater? I think. But then again, there aren't any caves around the Great Salt Lake, and the air wouldn't be this salty unless I was unusually close to the water's edge.

A low murmur echoes from deeper within the cave—a soft, consistent sound likely caused by water dripping or air moving through narrow passages. Glancing back at the pod, I notice the blue fog dissipating, swirling upward before fading away. There's no device or mechanism that it could have come from.

I'm not going back inside that, I mutter, the memory of being trapped fueling my resolve.

Curious, I reach out to touch the lingering fog above the pod. Its vivid blue hue suggests it's more than just water vapor. As I ponder this, the fog suddenly liquefies and splashes to the ground.

Did it react to my thoughts? The door opened when I desperately wanted to escape, and now the fog turns to liquid when I think of water. There must be a connection.

I shake my head. If it's connected to the pod, maybe it's irrelevant right now. I need to figure out where I am. I can always come back later.

I take a moment to examine my surroundings more closely. The cave walls are unremarkable—no markings or signs to indicate where I might be. The only noteworthy detail is the number "40" painted in bold, uneven strokes on the outside of the pod, partially obscured by grime.

With nothing else to glean from here, I decide to head up the rocks toward the light. The wet surface causes each step to require careful placement, the faint glimmer of moisture reflecting my determination. This feels familiar, I think, memories of scrambling over the jagged rooftops of the old industrial district and sneaking through narrow alleyways behind shuttered storefronts during my homeless days resurfacing. Navigating these slick rocks reminds me of nights spent dodging debris and finding precarious paths to stay safe.

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The climb presents a few challenges, the biggest being how wet everything is. The rock slope is at a manageable angle, though it feels more like navigating through the maze-like alleys of downtown Salt Lake. Years of finding my way through unstable terrains have honed my instincts, I reflect, my muscles moving with a practiced ease. Every slippery foothold and precarious handhold echoes the countless times I had to adapt quickly to survive.

As I ascend the wet rocks, the low murmur I dismissed earlier begins to change. The pitch rises steadily, the volume increasing with each step. I pause, straining to listen. The sound isn't just ambient cave noise anymore—it's something alive, something getting closer.

A visceral unease grips me. My muscles tense, ready for a fight or flight. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Years of navigating deserted alleyways have sharpened my senses, I think, bracing myself.

I need to move. Faster.

I break into a run, leaping up the slick rocks. My breaths come in sharp gasps, echoing off the stone walls. The eerie sounds behind me grow louder, more defined. Not just one, but many—an unsettling chorus of wails and screeches.

When I feel like I’m about to trip I aim to fall forward so I can quickly pick myself up. The shoes I’m wearing have decent traction and I have jeans on, but I have nothing on my hands and only a T-shirt, so I feel the full brunt of any fall.

I reach the top of the climb, only to find myself at a dead end that splits into two equally unappealing options.

There are only two ways out, and neither offers a promising escape.

The first is a source of light high above, atop a wall too steep for me to climb. The second is a staircase descending into darkness, with no light reflecting off it—likely leading to a dead end.

The screaming grows louder, and now I realize it's not just one source, it's many.

I have no choice but to fight. Grabbing a rock, I brace myself to bash anything that approaches.

"Haa... haa..." My own panting echoes around me, heart pounding in my chest. Gritting my teeth, I shout into the darkness, "Come at me, I'll bash your fucking heads in!"

Suddenly, I see the blue fog again.

"Wait, what?" Confusion floods my mind.

The same blue fog from the pod is now seeping out of my neck. I recall how it responded to my needs before. I attempt to will it into a bomb, but it doesn't change form. That won't work, and I can't waste time on failures. I need to use this to get out of here or to kill whatever is chasing me.

I must confirm what I've seen it do. It opened a door and turned into water. The door opening isn't proof I influenced it, since I didn't consciously think about it then. But the water reacted to my desire.

However, water won't help me escape now. I don't know how much I can produce so I can’t drown them. I need to...

A chorus of piercing screeches erupts behind me, each every second more terrifying than the last.

The screams grow louder; more of them are approaching from behind. I have two theories: either I can control water, or I have the power to create matter.

Testing the second seems quicker and more beneficial to escape. I imagine turning the fog into lead. It remains blue but becomes much heavier, condensing into a solid ball.

The screeches intensify, echoing off the cavern walls.

With this new understanding, I try to shape the fog into climbing picks made of a copper-iron alloy. But it's difficult; it refuses to form complex objects. I attempt smaller shapes, but they become nothing more than balls or disks.

I experiment further and notice I can move the fog, sliding it around my fingers. It feels less like I'm creating objects and more like I'm controlling it directly. I sense an understanding of how it moves, but there's no time to dwell on it.

Using this new method, I form crude claws over my fingers and boots. They don't look sturdy, but they're my only option. If I can use these claws to scale the wall, I might be able to put some distance between me and whatever's pursuing me. Fighting them head-on might not be sustainable, but climbing could give me the upper hand. I dig them into the wall and begin to climb.

Each step is a struggle. The claws threaten to break, and my grip is tenuous at best. But I push onward, driven by the instinct to survive.

I form the fog into crude claws over my fingers and boots. They don't hold together well, but they're my only option. As I start climbing, I must constantly recreate the claws.

The claws on my hands snap frequently, and I slip on the wet surface, causing me to bang my head against the wall. Thanks to my horns, the impact is cushioned, though it still rattles me. At one point, a claw on my foot breaks, and my knee slams hard into the rock. It doesn't hurt immediately but leaves a numb sensation.

The screams are dangerously close now—they'll reach me any second. My heart pounds as I scramble upward. But then, abruptly, the screaming stops.

Why did they stop? They're close—too close. They might be in the chamber I just left. If that's the case, I need to get out of here now.

A sudden, piercing screech slices through the silence, followed by another, even louder.

I start jamming my fingers into the rock, desperate to climb faster. Pain shoots through my hands, and I see a fingernail tear off and fall below, but there's no time to care.

Reaching the top, I find the gaps in the cave ceiling are too narrow to squeeze through.

"No, god damn it!" I shout, frustration boiling over.

I rack my brain for chemicals that can break down rock. Nitroglycerin? I try it out but it is no good, I don't know its composition. There must be rules to this ability limitations based on my knowledge. I scramble to think of any explosive or acid, but nothing comes to mind. The only element I recall that reacts violently is pure sodium.

I decide to test sodium quickly, hoping it will provide a solution. I concentrate, willing the fog to transform into sodium. This time, the transformation works; the fog condenses into a shimmering blue ball of sodium, but the reaction is immediate. The sodium burns my hand as it forms. The screams are right behind me; I can hear feet slapping against the wet ground. This is my last chance.

"Sodium," I whisper, focusing all my will on the fog. My pent-up wrath pulses through me, giving life to the fog's reaction. I can't tell if it's working, but smoke begins to seep from the cracks in the rock. A low rumble builds as the rocks quake before me. Realizing they're about to explode, I throw my arms over my head. A deafening blast erupts next to me.

KABOOM!

The explosion silences the screams momentarily. Without wasting a second, I crawl through the newly formed gap. The air is hot and acrid, burning my lungs. I hold my breath and squeeze my eyes shut against the sting.

But I must see where I'm going. I blink my eyes open, crawling as fast as I can despite the burning sensation. Suddenly, a cold touch grazes my leg. Instinctively, I kick back hard, feeling contact with something solid. Even though the crawl is only a few feet, it feels like an eternity.

Emerging from the crevice, I glance back. A shadow moves toward me through the smoke. Acting on impulse, I direct the fog toward it, willing it to become sodium once more. Flames burst forth, engulfing the figure.

"AAAAHHHHHHHH!" The creature's scream is a mix of rage and pain as it recoils.

I hurl more sodium into the gap, hoping to deter any others from following. Turning around, I'm confronted by a vast lake stretching out before me. No time to hesitate—I sprint along the shoreline, away from the cave and whatever else might be lurking.