Extract from the -{ Tome of the ‘Forgotten One’ }- Divine scripture of the Church of the ‘Forgotten One’.
"As the veil of night descends, fear not the unknown, for in darkness lies the sanctuary of the just. Embrace the shroud of oblivion, and trust in the fairness of the unseen hand that guides your path." ( The Revelation of Evernight 1:11 )
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The relentless sun beat down on Asher's back as he trudged up the mountain path, each step sending a jolt of pain through his aching muscles. Sweat trickled down his spine, soaking into his already damp shirt. He paused, panting heavily, the taste of dust coating his tongue.
"Damn it all, when will it end?!"
Asher's voice echoed off the rocky cliffs surrounding him, the sound of his frustration swallowed by the vast wilderness. He dropped to the ground, the rough texture of sun-baked earth digging into his palms.
"Man, I'm beat," he muttered, closing his eyes against the glare of the midday sun.
As he caught his breath, Asher's thoughts turned to his grandfather, the reason for this grueling trek. A mixture of affection and irritation swirled in his chest.
"Damn old man," he grumbled, opening his eyes to glare at the urn in his backpack. "Who asks for their ashes to be spread on a mountain? Sigh."
Taking a deep breath, Asher tilted his face towards the endless blue sky above. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment of stillness. The whistling wind tousled his jet-black hair, its cool touch a brief respite from the heat. In that moment, the constant flow of the breeze reminded him of the relentless march of time – always moving, never pausing.
His eyes snapped open, a renewed determination coursing through him.
"Heave ho!"
With a grunt, Asher pushed himself to his feet, wincing as his back protested the sudden movement. He rubbed the strained muscles, the action eerily reminiscent of his workaholic father back home. The thought brought a wry smile to his face as he resumed his arduous journey.
"Guess I'm getting old," he mused, his voice tinged with a mixture of amusement and resignation.
As Asher crested a hill, the landscape before him took his breath away. Verdant grassy plains stretched out below, a sea of green swaying gently in the mountain breeze. In the distance, snow-capped peaks pierced the sky, their icy crowns glinting in the sunlight. The stark contrast between the lush lowlands and the barren heights created a scene of breathtaking beauty.
A wave of tranquility washed over Asher as he took in the view. This peaceful, serene place was a world away from the cacophony of the bustling cities he was used to. For a fleeting moment, he imagined staying here, starting a new life away from the rat race that had consumed him for so long.
But reality intruded, as it always did. Asher pulled out his phone, the black screen reflecting his weary face. No signal. Of course.
"Sigh." The sound escaped him before he could stop it. "Already addicted," he chided himself, tucking the useless device away.
"Oh well, let's get this over with," Asher muttered, steeling himself for the final leg of his journey.
As he walked, Asher recited his grandfather's description in his mind, the old man's gravelly voice as clear as if he were walking beside him:
'A towering willow tree of ash gray color, the only one of its kind in the surrounding brown ordinary woods. Just near it in clear view would be a wooden cabin hand-built from redwood and a pond of crystal water behind it beyond the clearing lined with trees.'
Hours passed, each step bringing a new ache to Asher's body. Just as hope began to fade, a flash of red caught his eye through the trees. His heart leaped in his chest as he quickened his pace, ignoring the protests of his tired muscles.
The cabin materialized before him, a shadow of its former glory. Time had not been kind to the structure; termites had hollowed out the redwood frames, leaving only the stone foundation somewhat intact. The smell of decay hung in the air, mingling with the crisp mountain breeze.
Asher circled the dilapidated building, his eyes scanning for the willow tree. There – half-standing, half-fallen – was the ash-gray trunk his grandfather had spoken of. Like the cabin, it had succumbed to the ravages of time, now little more than a hollow shell of its former self.
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As he approached the tree, his grandfather's words echoed in his mind: "On the willow, I left my initials along with your grandmother when we stayed there for our honeymoon. Oh, how she would tease me for being a cheesy romantic."
A bittersweet smile tugged at Asher's lips as he traced the crude carving with his fingertips. AW+AT. Alfred Whitlock and Ashley Thorne. The rough texture of the bark beneath his fingers grounded him in the moment, connecting him to a past he'd never known.
"Old love birds," Asher chuckled softly, a lump forming in his throat. "I'm here, Grandpa, Grandma."
He stood there for a moment, lost in memories of the bickering couple who had always made him feel loved. The wind whispered through the leaves, almost like the ghosts of their laughter.
Shaking himself from his reverie, Asher set about his task. As he scattered the ashes around the base of the willow, a sudden gust of wind caught them, creating a brief, swirling dance in the air. For an instant, he could have sworn he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.
Task complete, Asher sat in silence, allowing the peacefulness of the place to wash over him. The quiet was broken only by the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird. As the sun began its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, Asher's stomach let out a loud growl.
"Right, food," he mumbled, remembering the lunch he'd packed. The crystal pond his grandfather had mentioned seemed like the perfect spot for a meal.
As Asher made his way towards the tree line behind the cabin, something caught his eye – a glint of metal through one of the gaping holes in the cabin's wall. Curiosity piqued, he changed course.
The hole was large enough for him to slip through, though jagged splinters of wood snagged at his clothes as he entered. The musty scent of aged wood enveloped him as his eyes adjusted to the dim interior.
What he saw made his blood run cold.
At the far end of the room stood a massive steel door, its surface adorned with intricate, horrifying details. Skeletal figures, their bones crafted from tarnished silver, writhed across the metal. Ruby eyes gleamed from empty sockets, their blood-red glint seeming to follow Asher's movements. Rusted chains intertwined with thorny vines, binding the skeletal forms in an eternal, agonizing embrace.
Asher's heart pounded in his chest, the sound deafening in the oppressive silence of the cabin. Despite every instinct screaming at him to run, he found himself inching closer, drawn by a morbid fascination he couldn't explain.
"What the hell, Grandpa?" Asher whispered, his voice barely audible even to himself. The kind, mischievous old man he remembered seemed utterly at odds with this nightmarish creation.
As he studied the door, Asher noticed that all the skeletal figures seemed to cling to one central form. This skeleton was larger, its silver bones inlaid with obsidian markings and white symbols. Instead of rubies, its eye sockets held an unsettling, endless darkness. The skull's expression was twisted into a wrathful snarl, a stark contrast to the sorrow etched into the surrounding figures.
Without thinking, Asher reached out, his fingertips barely brushing the cold metal surface.
The world went black.
When Asher's eyes fluttered open, a dull ache pulsed behind his temples. He groaned, pushing himself up from a hard, cold surface. Stone? Confusion flooded his mind as he took in his new surroundings.
He found himself in a well-built wooden cabin, but not the one he'd been exploring. The walls were made of ash-colored logs, while the floor consisted of sharply cut black stone tiles. The room was eerily empty, devoid of furniture or windows, lacking any hint of human touch.
"What happened?" Asher muttered, his voice sounding strange in the unfamiliar space.
His breath came in short, sharp gasps as he stumbled towards the only door. His palms were slick with sweat as he grasped the handle, pushing it open with trembling arms.
A flood of crimson light assaulted his senses, pouring from a sky that defied reality. A colossal moon hung in the center of the inky blackness, its surface a roiling sea of red. But it wasn't alone. Three smaller moons floated above it, with five more below, each diminishing in size but pulsing with the same blood-red glow.
In his peripheral vision, Asher caught a glimpse of a shimmering wine-red lake in the distance, but the sight of the impossible moons was already too much to bear. He slammed the door shut, pressing his back against it as his legs gave way.
Sliding to the floor, Asher hugged his knees to his chest, burying his face in his arms. The silence pressed in around him, broken only by the sound of his ragged breathing.
After what felt like an eternity, Asher lifted his head. Out of habit, he reached for his phone, desperate for some connection to normalcy. The black screen reflected his pale face, dark eyes wide with fear beneath his disheveled hair.
No matter how many times he pressed the power button, the screen remained stubbornly dark.
"Is the system fried?" he wondered aloud, his voice cracking.
[PROMPT INCOMPLETE PLEASE TRY AGAIN]
"Ah!" Asher cried out, startled by the sudden mechanical voice. His phone clattered to the floor as he scrambled backward, his head connecting painfully with the door. "Ouch!"
Rubbing his throbbing skull, Asher stared in disbelief at the shimmering holographic screen that had materialized before him. The grayish, semi-transparent display hovered in the air, defying all laws of physics he knew.
As he read the text scrolling across the screen, a hysterical laugh bubbled up in his throat. This couldn't be happening. It was too absurd, too much like those fantasy novels he'd devoured as a teenager. Isekai, they called it – being transported to another world.
But this was no lush fantasy realm filled with magic and adventure. The crimson hellscape outside the door flashed in his mind, sending a shudder through his body.
Asher's gaze darted around the cabin, taking in every detail. The rough texture of the wooden walls, the cold radiating from the stone floor, the sweat beading on his palms – it all felt too real to be a dream or hallucination.
His mind raced, thoughts colliding like a tempest. Memories of his life on Earth flashed before his eyes – his mother's gentle smile, his father's tired but proud gaze, the playful banter with his younger sibling. A life that had been comfortable, if not extraordinary.
But beneath the gratitude for what he had, a familiar restlessness stirred. The gnawing dissatisfaction that had always plagued him, the burning desire for something more. Was it wrong to want that? To strive for greatness in a world that seemed designed to keep people in their assigned roles?
As these thoughts swirled in his mind, the holographic display changed, new text appearing with a soft chime:
[HOST DETECTED]
[SCANNING HOST]
[HOST IS FROM TIER 0 PLANET "EARTH"]
[THE PLANET IS NOT INTEGRATED TO THE CREATION NET]
[INTEGRATION OF THE PLANET "EARTH" HAS STARTED]
[TIME TILL END OF INTEGRATION: 3YR 30 DAYS]
[QUALITIES OF PIONEER SEED DETECTED]
[ *ERROR* ]
[RISK TO CREATION NET DISCOVERED]
[HOST FATE CAN NOT BE CALCULATED]
[QUALIFICATIONS HAVE BEEN REVOKED]
[HOST HAS BEEN MARKED FOR SOUL DESTRUCTION]
[TIME TILL DESTRUCTION: 10 MINS]
The words seared themselves into Asher's mind, each line a hammer blow against his sanity. A cruel joke indeed, to be offered a glimpse of infinite possibilities only to have them snatched away in an instant.
Rage boiled up inside him, a primal scream building in his chest. With a roar of defiance, Asher slammed his fist against the unyielding stone floor.
"Don't fuck with me!!" he bellowed, his voice echoing in the empty cabin.