It was the evening of the eighth day since my first-hand encounters with this weird world had begun, yet after the events of the last few nights, I felt like I had far more questions than answers. I felt like I was slowly getting lost in the world on “the other side”, for lack of a better term, as if it was a strange beast that was reaching through my subconscious with grasping tendrils, grasping at my mind to pull me back in.

In truth, I didn’t really know what to do about it; I knew that nobody would believe me if I told them about my experiences. As an act of desperation, I decided to start taking notes from my nightmares, catalogue my experiences, and find something, anything, that could pass for “information” from this place, perhaps some kind of explanation or reasoning behind it all.

I didn’t exactly feel ready, or comfortable for that matter, to return to the Iridescent Abyss just yet; I wanted to be prepared for whatever was going to happen next, however small or insignificant said preparation could potentially be. In particular, I wanted to test just how far the unusual ability for the nightmare plane to carry items over from the real world would go; was this limited to articles of clothing, or could I carry over other things such as a pen and a notebook, perhaps?

So for the entirety of the day, when I was at home doing coursework, I made it an almost religious duty to carry a singular specific pen around with me at all times in my right trouser pocket. It was a reasonably expensive fountain pen that I had received as a gift from a relative before heading off to study. The thing was remarkably sturdy in its construction, and the ink cartridges it used were large enough to cover a considerable quantity of writing if needed. I believed this would make the perfect tool for note-taking, assuming it actually went over with me, of course…

However, I tried my best to ignore a rather large elephant in the room, an elephant that would eventually become far too belligerent to ignore. This proverbial elephant took the form of the excruciating pain which carried over from my previous encounter with the obelisk and the mixture of pseudo-freezing and eye strain which The Statue had caused the night before.

Obviously, this was rather concerning, and I already knew from the obelisk that feelings and sensations could be brought over from the other side to affect me in the real world. Still, The Statue proved that pain alone could end up being the least of my concerns. I genuinely dreaded the eighth night, so much so that I opted to try and avoid the potential situation entirely by staying up all night; I had this suspicion that the world on the other side would continue to exist whether or not I was actually there, maybe by avoiding it for a while The Statue might leave the memorial pool segment?

Though this relied on my suspicion being correct, of course...

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I remember sitting in my room and watching the sun slowly rise over the horizon; the glorious amber hew which dominated the lightly clouded sky illuminated the buildings with ease. I had spent the night reading and researching some more things for my coursework and hanging out with some friends who were located in the United States of America; I didn’t get many opportunities to do so other than over the weekend, which I would usually be spending doing coursework and essay practice.

The day ticked by, and I found myself becoming intimately acquainted with the flat’s kettle, the caffeinated beverages which its very existence permitted single-handedly kept me going through my experiment. Before today, I would usually only have a coffee or two a day, but I found myself having hourly or bi-hourly coffees to fight fatigue.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

However, this would only last for so long, eventually skipping an entire night of rest caught up to me, my eyes sagged and darkened, and my mind began to wander. It was only about seven in the afternoon, and I was barely able to remain conscious. Around this point, I decided to get some rest and finally face the Iridescent Abyss once more.

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Much to my surprise, I found myself waking up not within the walls of the strange room but rather just beside the obelisk. A few of those strange bees had decided to crawl around near me while I slept. They quickly took flight and retreated to the safety of the hedges shortly after I came around. Oddly, even though I am not overly keen on insects in general, I didn’t feel anxious or concerned about their presence; something about them made me believe that they were not a threat to me and were equally perplexed by my presence as I was for theirs.

The air was cold yet heavy; the mysterious fog from the previous night had vanished entirely with not a patch to be seen all around. There was the faint tang of iron and copper in the air and an all-encompassing feeling of static energy coursing through my clothes.

I climb to my feet and look back to the obelisk; I was curious if the text had changed or if anything was different, considering that I had woken up here. Looking around me, I could see that the memorial pool at large had remained unchanged, none of the statues had moved - thank goodness - and the path was still there, the bridges still aloft, but I could see something on the slabs around me…

Looking closer, it appeared that a long series of grooves and cuts stretched from just behind where I was laying before I work up, around the path and over the bridge behind me. The scratches were not particularly deep, maybe a millimetre or two at most. However, the scratches appeared to be arranged so that they could have been caused by nails or claws scraping along the floor. Considering that the scratches ended a few inches from where I was lying, I shuddered when I realized what this could mean...

Did something drag me here?

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A short but high pitched rumbling sound scrawled out from the obelisk, prompting me to look back to the black stone pillar. The red glowing cuneiform text had disappeared entirely, only to return in English once more.

“Centers of contemplation and regions of reflection are worthy of protection, however, said protection takes shape. Motionless, slumbering guardians lay dormant, waiting for the right moment to strike, to protect us, to allow us to guide the Quires yet further….”

At first, I thought this was yet more gibberish, but the more I thought about it, the more it made me wonder about the exact purpose of the obelisk. Why would someone or something go through all the effort to build the obelisk, do something to it to give it the ability to create text in various languages dynamically, then just sit this thing down in what appears to be a garden of all places?

While I was thinking about the message, I remembered part of my experiment for tonight and reached down to my right trouser pocket; my fingers contacted something cold and metallic, which I quickly pulled out. To my amazement, the fountain pen was indeed carried over with me. I quickly removed the cap and tried to write something on my left hand to test if the pen actually worked. Thankfully the ink flowed as easily as it did in the real world.

The more I thought about the latest message on the obelisk, the more conflicted I grew about its meaning; considering it spoke about dormant guardians who aren’t supposed to move, could it speaking about The Statue that attacked me? Or was it referring to the sculptures orbiting it beyond the pool?

I had to stop thinking about it; the longer I poured my mind over its cryptic text, the harder and harder it became to understand the meaning behind it. Especially the last part about "Quires", rather unusual considering what a Quire is unless Quire happens to be some kind of rank or name...

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With nothing better to do besides stand and think about the obelisks cryptic message, which I suspected would cause me to acquire a rather serious migraine should I continue, I decide to investigate the scratches. Other than the thing that attacked me the other night, I was unaware of any creature or entity that could create such markings. However, part of me was concerned that the scratches might have originated from that thing, something I would need to investigate.

I began a leisurely yet cautious walk following the scratches along the path, making sure to check my surroundings now and then; the last thing I wanted was to be ambushed by something while I was too busy concentrating on the trail, while there weren’t many places around me where something could hide, I wasn’t going to let my guard down like last time.

After some time walking, I finally reached the pathway leading up to the pergola I was attacked by the other night, a deep sense of foreboding and dread washed over me as a storm surge. I could see that the scratches on the pavement followed the path and continued under the archway, presumably carrying on far beyond the arch itself.

I approach the arch at an angle with a great deal of care. I deliberately walk slowly and quietly while keeping a reasonable distance between myself and the pergola pillar closest to me. As I swing around the corner, I could see the scratches trailing off along the shady pergola path. The path here was far longer than the first one I walked down and was broken by the blotchy form of a fallen hedge and what appeared to be the shattered remains of one of the pergola arches around a dozen feet before me, I could probably crawl under it if I needed to, but I certainly didn't look forward to it.

I grit my teeth and hesitate for a moment; I wanted to know what had caused the scratches and whether or not it was friendly, but following the marks would lead me into this previously unknown area; who knows what would be waiting for me beyond the collapsed hedge.

After mulling it over and weighing my options, I take a long, deep breath and reluctantly proceed; if I was going to be stuck here for who knows how long, I might as well explore and potentially find something interesting while I’m here. Besides, it couldn’t possibly get any worse or weirder than the other night…

Right?