FLUX Bearer

Volume 2: Order & Chaos, Begins Here.

A few days before the arrival of Hiraeth…

The clock on the wall ticked louder than usual. Officer Asher Hardy slumped back into his worn-out armchair, staring at the clock's second hand as it swept forward with agonizing slowness. He was off duty now, and the events from earlier in the day replayed in his mind.

The downtown district had been torn apart. He had arrived on the scene shortly after the chaos was already over, piecing together the fragmented details from Darren and Kaycee, and other witness statements, who were still reeling from the aftermath of the attack.

Kaycee had been shaken, her hands trembling as she recounted the sight of the Nightmares, strange, twisted beings that seemed to defy the laws of nature. Darren had stood beside her, his jaw set, frustration mingled with determination in his eyes as he explained how they fought them back.

It had been hard for Hardy to understand everything they described—stories of powers and battles were foreign to him, and all that they had explained was quite difficult to believe. He was just a cop, someone who dealt with the mundane, the everyday problems of the city. Yet today, he had glimpsed a completely new world, a world that was both terrifying and fascinating.

His fingers drummed impatiently against the armrest of the chair. Something felt off, though he couldn't quite put his finger on it. He tried to shake it, but the sensation only grew stronger, like a persistent itch beneath his skin.

The room was too quiet. Not just quiet, but too quiet. It was as if the world had lost its rhythm, leaving a strange emptiness behind. Hardy rubbed his temple, trying to dispel the mounting headache that seemed to accompany his unease.

Every noise seemed amplified, louder than it should be. The ticking clock, the creaking floorboards, the hum of the fridge—it all echoed through his head like a thunderclap. Hardy winced. With each beat of his heart, a sense of urgency welled inside him. Something was wrong, something was happening, but he didn't know what.

He stood up, pacing the small living room. The hardwood floor creaked under his weight, and he tried to shake off the growing anxiety. Suddenly, as he stood by the window, he felt a shift in the atmosphere. The air grew heavier, charged with an energy he couldn't explain.

"Get a grip, Hardy," he muttered to himself. But the moment he thought that, everything changed.

As he gazed out at the street, the world outside transformed. It wasn't that he saw anything unusual; he felt it. The faint rustle of leaves brushing against the pavement, the distant hum of a car engine several blocks away, the soft patter of footsteps from a jogger rounding the corner—every sound sharpened, layered over one another as if it were a symphony. It was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sensory input that crashed over him.

Hardy staggered back, his hands gripping the windowsill tightly. His heart raced, but it wasn't fear driving him—it was the sheer intensity of everything. He could hear things he shouldn't be able to hear, feel things he shouldn't be able to feel. It was as if the world was speaking to him, its every movement, every shift of air and sound transmitting directly into his mind.

"Seriously, what is going on?" he whispered, closing his eyes in an attempt to shut out the chaos. But that only made it worse. The moment he closed his eyes, the sounds intensified, blossoming into a kaleidoscope of vibrations and frequencies that surged through him.

He could sense a rhythm to the world around him—a pulse that throbbed in time with his own heartbeat. The faint hum of energy coursed through the air, vibrating with life. It was beautiful and terrifying all at once, a connection to everything that existed. But he had no idea how to interpret it.

As Hardy stood frozen in shock, the sensation deepened. He didn't just hear the noise; he could perceive it. It was like someone had unlocked a door to a hidden dimension, and now he was standing on the threshold, teetering between the known and the unknown.

The hum grew stronger, resonating in the very bones of his body. He raised his hands instinctively, almost as if to shield himself from the onslaught of information. The walls around him felt alive, vibrating with energy that coursed through the very foundation of his home. Hardy squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to block it all out, but that only intensified the experience. It was as if the walls were speaking to him, and he could sense their stories—the history of the building, the lives lived within it.

And then, amid the cacophony, he felt something different. A whisper, soft and beckoning, like a thread weaving its way through the noise. It pulled at him, inviting him to reach out. He hesitated, uncertainty gnawing at his gut. But curiosity was stronger.

With a cautious breath, Hardy reached out, extending his fingers toward the wall. The moment he made contact, a rush of energy surged through him, and the world exploded with color and sensation. He could feel the vibrations of the air, the subtle shifts of the ground beneath his feet. It was as if he had become part of the very fabric of reality. He was seeing everything around him for what felt like at least several blocks.

Images flooded his mind—fleeting glimpses of people passing by, their emotions swirling around them like a mist. He saw a woman sitting alone on a bench, her shoulders slumped in despair; a child laughing and playing with a dog in the park; a couple arguing softly on the corner. Each emotion was like a thread woven into the tapestry of life, and he could feel them all.

"What is happening?" he gasped, pulling back his hand, overwhelmed by the flood of information. His heart raced as he struggled to comprehend the intensity of what he had just experienced. It was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure.

As he pulled back, the world around him quieted, the sensations dissipating but leaving a lingering echo in his mind. The hum of energy dimmed to a faint whisper, yet the memory of it remained etched in his consciousness.

"Is this real?" he asked aloud, looking around the empty room. He felt disoriented, as if he had crossed a line he couldn't uncross.

Suddenly, Hardy was on the floor, intense pain snaking its way through his body. Before he could question anything further, everything went black.

—

A distant voice sounded in Hardy's mind. Where was he? What was the voice saying? He tried to open his eyes, but found his eyelids extremely heavy. He pushed harder, and was finally able to get them to open enough for some light to make it through.

A dark figure slowly came into focus above him as he realized he was lying flat on the floor. Words began to take form as the voice grew louder and the face of Hardy's captain became clearer.

"Hardy! What the hell happened to you, man? Are you okay?" Captain Faulkner questioned. His black-rimmed glasses reflected the flourescent light shining into Hardy's living-room from the kitchen.

Hardy struggled to sit up, his body in pain and feeling rigid. With Faulkner's help, he was finally able to reach a halfway sitting position, partially leaning against the nearest wall.

"Cap? What are you doing here? What happened?" Hardy asked His head pounded as he tried to remember.

"What happened? That's what I asked you!" Faulkner said gruffly, standing and taking a few steps away from Hardy.

He looked around his living room, seeing that Faulkner wasn't the only one from the PD who'd paid him a visit.

"Cap, I don't know what's going on… What time is it?" He asked.

Faulkner looked at his watch briefly before answering. "It's just before sunset," he replied. "We've been trying to reach you for hours. Why didn't you show up for your shift this morning?"

"My shift? I don't work for another couple of days…" Hardy said, still confused.

"Hardy," Faulkner said, "no one has heard from you in days. You were supposed to report for your shift this morning." The captain shook his head, worry etched into his features. "I'm going to have the medics come in and check you out. While they do, think about how you want to explain this."

With that, Faulkner turned and went outside. Hardy could hear his gruff voice from inside as he forced himself to sit up more erectly against the living room wall. A couple of officers Hardy didn't really know stood in his living room, watching him with seemingly knowing looks.

"Did you hit the sauce a little too hard, Hardy?" one of them asked. Hardy thought his name was Colgate; Walter Colgate.

"I don't drink," Hardy muttered. "What was I doing though?" As he whispered the question to himself, everything came rushing back in. He inhaled sharply as he remembered what had happened. As if the memories were a catalyst of some sort, his senses were suddenly overwhelmed by input from several blocks around him.

He grasped his head with both hands as pain erupted in his mind. Just as before, images and sounds and feelings reached him and echoed through his body. He was sensing things in ways that should be impossible.

He could feel irritation waiting in from outside, and impatience and apprehension radiating from the two officers. A cacaphony of emotions assaulted him from all sides in addition to the other inputs. It was too much for him to parse through; too much to handle at all.

He fought with all of his strength to get a grip on the input. His body shook with the effort, but moments later he was able to focus on what was happening in the room with him. Everything else was still flying at him, but he had some modicum of control over what he paid attention to.

As soon as he felt like he had some control over his senses, he felt fire spreading through his body. It wasn't quite painful, but it was definitely uncomfortable. His muscles tensed and his body convulsed slightly, as if an electric charge bolted through him.

He heard one of the other officers in his living room shout for the medics to hurry up as they noticed Hardy's apparently increasingly dire situation.

Footsteps pounded into his living room and suddenly several men were there surrounding him. As they knelt in front of him, his body calmed and his mind grew clearer. It felt like his mind and body reached some sort of equilibrium, a balance, and peace overtook him.

He didn't pass out again, fortunately, and everything came into crisp focus.

"I feel great," he muttered quietly in response to a question from the medics. He decided he'd like to stand, and made to rise to his feet. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, pushing him back to the ground.

"You need to stay seated," one of the medics said.

"No," Hardy replied, feeling better than he ever had before. The medics didn't fight him, but they pushed quite firmly against his body. Still, with little effort, he rose to his feet.

The medics, three of them in total, looked bewildered as Hardy withstood their strength with ease.

"I'm fine, guys," Hardy said, "Really. I've just been a little sick is all, but I'm good now."

Hardy wasn't sure how else to explain what he'd been through without making everyone there think he was crazy, so he tried to be as honest as he could without giving the full truth away.

The medics, each dressed in black pants and blue t-shirts labeled with their station's number, looked at Hardy in mild exasperation.

"Trust me," he harrumphed, "I'm not a crazy person. I feel just fine."

"If you say so," one of them grumbled, holding a tablet out for Hardy to grab. "Just sign here please. It's just saying you're refusing medical services."

Hardy grabbed the tablet with a reassuring smile and quickly signed the electronic paper. With that, the medics turned and left, not looking back.

Colgate looked at Hardy with a very similar expression as the medics had worn, saying, "Cap said to tell you that since you're not going to the hospital, you need to report to the PD immediately."

"Huh? How does he know I'm not going to the hospital?" Hardy asked quizzically.

"I don't know man," Colgate replied, "he told me to tell you that before the medics even came in."

Hardy chuckled to himself. That sounded just like Faulkner. Hardy wandered sometimes if the man wasn't clairvoyant.

"I'll get up there right away," Hardy said to the other officers.

With a nod, the two of them departed through the front door, leaving Hardy to his thoughts.

In the silence, the weight of the situation began to sink in. Whatever this was, it felt powerful, like a gift or a curse. He didn't know how to control it, how to use it—or even if he wanted to. The implications of this power were staggering. Could he really sense the emotions of others? And all the noises and sounds and smells that had hit him from what felt like so far away, all around his area… What did it all mean? Did it mean he was connected to something larger than himself?

Thoughts of the dead Nightmares, as Darren and Kaycee had called them, from earlier crept into his mind, and he shuddered at the memory. They had seemed like monsters from a literal nightmare, but if they were real, what else existed out there? What dangers lurked in the shadows, and what role did he play in all of this? He was just a cop, a regular guy, not someone destined to battle creatures from the dark.

Hardy ran a hand through his hair, trying to ground himself. "You need to figure this out," he muttered. "You need to understand what's happening to you."

But how? Where would he even begin? He thought back to Darren and Kaycee, how they had shared pieces of their world with him. Perhaps they would know. They might have answers, or at least someone he could talk to. He could hardly wrap his mind around the magnitude of what had just happened, but he knew one thing: he couldn't navigate this new reality alone.

Determination surged through him. Hardy stood up, steeling himself. After he reported to the PD, he would find Darren and Kaycee, learn about this power, and understand what it meant for him. He wasn't going to let fear dictate his life. Whatever this was, he would face it head-on.

He grabbed his keys and headed for the door, a new sense of purpose igniting within him. The world outside waited, alive with sensations he could now perceive. He could hear the hum of life beyond his walls, and he would not shy away from it. Officer Hardy was ready to step into the unknown, to embrace the mysteries that lay ahead.