The alarm shattered the silence.

  I bolted upright, chest heaving, forehead damp.

  The dream clung to me like fog: galaxies spinning, a glowing door, a voice older than time.

  Was it just a dream... or a message?

  Downstairs, the dull chop of vegetables.

  My mother's voice, clipped and tired.

  Another gray morning.

  I pulled on my school uniform.

  "Stayed up all night again, didn't you?"

  Her eyes didn't meet mine. "Don't bring me another complaint from school. Just... act normal."

  Normal.

  As if I ever knew what that was.

  At school, I drifted through the halls, unseen.

  A paper ball hit my neck.

  "Autistic freak," someone hissed.

  But today... I didn't flinch.

  Not because I was numb—because I felt farther away than ever before.

  Not from pain.

  From this world.

  I sat down, opened my sketchbook.

  The spiral galaxy stared back at me—the same one from my dream.

  "Could it be real? Am I truly the chosen one... or just a lonely child clinging to purpose?"

  The bell rang.

  I walked home in a daze, heart drumming with a single question:

  Would they come tonight?

  Dinner was rushed. I barely tasted it.

  Homework forgotten.

  I curled into bed, clutching the hope that the door would open again.

  And it did.

  "It's time for us to go."

  The voice cut through the veil of dreams—soft but absolute.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  Around me: the white void. Clouds swirled beneath my feet.

  He stood waiting. Not a man. Not a god.

  A presence, stitched from light and memory.

  "This time," he said, "you will see the Chain."

  We stepped through an invisible door, into something beyond space.

  Planets hovered in layers of color and time. No ground, no sky—just dimension upon dimension.

  Each world floated, spinning slowly.

  Creatures moved between them, weightless, glowing, untethered.

  "These aren't places you can reach by ships or eyes," he said.

  "They exist behind the fabric of time—hidden worlds that never touch."

  He turned, gaze burning with quiet power.

  "Do you know why these planets have never collided? Never gone to war?"

  I shook my head.

  "Because between them lies the Wall. A layer of dark matter, fractured time. It keeps them unaware of one another.

  If that wall breaks... all of it collapses. Reality, time, space—all undone."

  Fear bloomed in my chest.

  "And my role?" I asked.

  "You must protect it."

  He guided me through shifting mist, into a world without rules.

  Here, creatures sang without mouths. Light bent in strange directions.

  No gravity. No pain. Just harmony.

  "Each planet," he continued, "was crafted with care. A unique test of life.

  But only one species held the key."

  I blinked. "Humans?"

  "Not for their minds, but for their hearts.

  Primate species carry something rare—compassion. The instinct to love, protect, connect.

  Emotion is not weakness here. It's the law."

  Silence fell between us, deep and glowing.

  "Can I stay?"

  He shook his head gently.

  "Not yet. But one day, I will return for you."

  "Then... what do I do now?"

  "Live.

  Protect what is good.

  Keep the light alive within you."

  I woke with tears on my cheek.

  The room was quiet again.

  No light. No voice. No presence.

  But the feeling remained—

  like a vow etched into the walls of my soul.

  And though he never came again,

  each night, as the stars rise, I still listen.

  Waiting.

  Everything means something. Or nothing. Or both.

  I’d love to hear your theories.

  Until then: trust the echoes. Some of them are true.