Marcus lay in a bed in the ship's sleeping quarters, staring up at the ceiling, but lost in his thoughts. He had been there for... days? Hours?

What's happened to me? Marcus thought. I would've leaped at the idea of a world outside Finisterra before all this... This ability, this curse, weighed on him like a shackle. Its potential frightened him. He could barely control it, if it had the power to strike fear or awaken greed in those around him, how could he even consider going to this "Topaz Star" Alyx had spoken of?

He knew what Alyx wanted. She saw the same thing Regina had—his ability as a tool, a weapon. He wasn't blind to it either. It had gotten him out of that prison on Bosnack, after all. It allowed him to walk out without a single shot fired, without a single soul able to keep up with him. He had slipped through time's cracks, leaving them all behind.

In that sense, wasn't he already free? No one could touch him, no one could cage him anymore. But freedom was complicated. He knew it wasn't as simple as walking away. As long as he remained around people, there would be those who feared him and others who would try to take what he had for themselves.

He lay in silence, his mind swirling in an endless loop of questions. Could he use this power for good? Could he help others? Did he even want to? The ability strained him, wore him down like waves on rock, slowly eroding his sense of self. Trying to control it, to maintain any sense of normalcy, was like holding back the tide.

Time is pulling me away, he thought, the sensation as real as gravity. And the more I resist, the stronger it pulls.

His mind wandered to a dark thought that had been haunting him for days now: What would happen if I let go completely? If he surrendered to the pull, allowed himself to be swallowed by time, would he even exist in the same way anymore?

Marcus closed his eyes, his thoughts spiralling. He was no longer sure where the line between time and reality was. Maybe he wasn't meant to stay in this world at all.

He let go.

The moment he did, it felt like falling—slipping through an invisible vortex, spiralling in the unseen time that surrounded everything. Marcus felt himself twisting along with it, as if he were no longer a person but a piece of time itself.

And then, the sound returned. That horrendous, mind-shattering sound that had clawed at his brain when he first passed through the wormhole. Except this time, it was worse. Infinitely worse. It ripped through the silence he'd grown accustomed to, screeching louder than anything he'd ever imagined. The noise wasn't just heard—it was felt, vibrating through every fibre of his being.

Marcus clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp, and in a frantic motion, he tore off the mask over his eyes and threw it to the floor. It clattered against the cold metal, but he couldn't hear it. There was only the endless screeching, louder and more unbearable than before.

There was no longer Marcus. No presence, no sense of self. Just the vortex and the sound.

And then the images began—flashes of people, places, things he had never seen. Visions of life and death intertwined, of paradise and devastation, blurring into one another with no sense or order. Every image seared into his mind, accompanied by the shriek that drowned out everything else.

This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.

But amid the chaos, one image stood out. He saw himself—or rather, a version of himself that felt older. Not older in appearance, but in the eyes—eyes that carried the weight of countless years. This Marcus stood calm and composed, unaffected by the storm raging around him. He stared back with an unsettling stillness, and then the whispers began.

They crept through the shrieking, soft but clear, cutting through the madness like a blade.

"Go."

"You must."

"It's imperative."

"Free them."

"Use it before it uses you."

"Beware of your actions."

"You have more of an effect than you think you do, Marcus."

"LEAVE!"

The whispers made no sense, their urgency gnawing at his mind, their meaning just out of reach. Marcus screamed—he could feel his throat tighten, but his voice was lost to the vortex, swallowed by the all-encompassing noise. He had to escape. He didn't know how, but every fibre of his being screamed at him to leave before something irreversible happened.

Suddenly, everything went black.

The screeching vanished, replaced by a thick, oppressive silence. It was like the void of the Black Room—but darker, deeper. The quiet seeped into his bones, wrapping around his thoughts like a suffocating fog.

For a moment, Marcus felt relief. But then, he sensed it—something watching him. Something with intent. Something sinister.

Panic surged, and he ran. But it didn't matter. Running got him nowhere. The void stretched out endlessly in all directions, and no matter how fast he moved, it felt like he was standing still. He could feel the presence growing closer, stalking him. It was coming.

He dropped to the ground, curling into himself, trying to make himself small. He had no idea why, but he knew—deep down, with a primal certainty—that he couldn't let it reach him. If it did, something far worse than his own fate was at stake. He couldn't explain how he knew it, but it was an instinctual truth, something buried deep in his soul.

Just as Marcus felt the last of his hope slipping away, he felt it—a hand. Soft and warm, it gripped his own, pulling him from the endless void. He clung to it like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. With every ounce of strength, he pulled at the hand, willing it to drag him out of this nightmare.

Slowly, the darkness began to recede, peeling away like layers. He felt the weight of his body return, his sense of presence growing stronger, the vortex losing its grip.

And then, he saw her.

Alyx crouched down beside him, her face filled with concern, the dread in his chest melting away with the shadows. He stared up at her, but her voice was muted—still nothing. The world remained eerily silent, but her presence alone grounded him in reality. It was jarring, seeing the same woman who had hidden from him for weeks now kneeling beside him, her eyes wide with fear and something else—compassion.

She spoke, but her words didn't reach his ears.

Alyx's eyes widened with realisation. She scanned the floor and spotted his mask. Grabbing it quickly, she placed it gently over his eyes. The world blinked into clarity as the display lit up, and finally, he could see her words.

"Are you okay? You've been screaming for so long." The words scrolled across the display as a tear slipped down her cheek. She wasn't just concerned—she was scared for him. The same man who had once terrified her, who had pushed her to hide for weeks, was now someone she feared for rather than feared.

Marcus swallowed hard, his throat dry, his mind still reeling from the experience. He tried to speak, but his voice trembled, a shaky echo in his own head. "I'm okay now. Thanks to you," he said, though his words felt fragile, like they could shatter at any moment.

Alyx's eyes softened, a small glimmer of relief cutting through the fear etched into her features.

"I'll go.. To the Topaz Star" Marcus continued

"You will?" Her words flashed on the display as the worry was momentarily replaced by excitement.

Marcus nodded, forcing himself to sit up, though his body felt heavy, like the void still clung to him in pieces. "You have no idea how much you just helped me," he said, his voice trembling but steadying. "So of course, if you want me to go, I'll go. I owe you."

Alyx's face lit up, but Marcus couldn't let himself fully relax. The relief of escaping the void was there, but it was fleeting. Deep down, he knew whatever had been in that dark place, it was still there. Still watching. Still waiting.

He could feel its presence, like a shadow lingering just out of sight. The warning whispered in his mind: Don't make a mistake.