World between worlds

The world shifted as Cypher stepped through the portal.

It was a strange feeling, like walking into a thin membrane that tore upon passing through.

The magenta glow bore down on him as he emerged on the other side, revealing a space unlike any other.

A space meant only for him.

Once his foot touched solid ground, Cypher—or the Man in the Wall—turned back. Behind him stood a tall archway stretching like a monolith to a forgotten, dead world. Composed entirely of bronze-colored gears, it ticked and ground against the quiet silence. It looked ragged, worn, and between its gears grew an overgrowth of red grass-like foliage that ruined whatever beauty it may have once had.

Within the opening of the archway, a thin, glass-like substance rippled, distorting the other side as the tear in the middle snapped shut like the jaws of a snake.

This was where he had just come from—the portal to the Well.

Cypher turned back as if he had already expected such a sight.

Around him, a stark, sickly yellow glow permeated the space, stretching infinitely in all directions. Winding white staircases laced the void, stretching impossibly far into the distance. Their geometry made no sense, and no ending was in sight—each step fading into white sand-like mirages before new ones took their place.

However, whatever was controlling Cypher in this moment paid no heed. Instead, he looked toward the staircase in front of him.

It was connected to the archway leading to the Well—unfading, permanent. It led upward, seemingly without end, until eventually, at its peak, stood a second arch. This one was distinct, built from blocky stone covered in patches of green moss. It seemed old and forgotten, yet still teemed with life.

"It's good to be home."

Creaking, rasping, and unfathomably unbound—that was the voice that came from Cypher's lips. No longer separated by the veil, the Man in the Wall now sounded not like a distant echo but something deep within Cypher himself. It was his true voice, more menacing than the voice of God itself.

Cypher took a step up the staircase. No shadow beneath him. Each echo of his boot triggered something as he ascended, his form flickering between that of a boy and that of something one would tell their children lurked in their closet at night.

One second, he was Cypher. The next, he was a disgustingly black, writhing hole in space shaped like a crooked man. His arms stretched longer than the entire body of a man. What looked to be robes swayed around him, void of any detail—only an outline.

Further up his body lay the most disturbing visage one could imagine. His bird mask—it was no longer just a mask. It was his true face.

Unlike his black limbs and body, his face was ghostly white. Its long beak extended outward like a knife, bent and angled like a saw. He bore hollow black sockets for eyes that saw the universe as nothing but a cage trying to contain him. Occasionally, his beak would open slightly, revealing a fleshy interior lined with sharp teeth that had no place on a bird's mask.

There was a shimmer, and as this grotesque abomination took another step, its form flickered back to Cypher—his corruption showing more and more with each passing second.

Soon, he reached the top of the staircase, where the archway leading to his original world came into view.

At the top of its stone surface, a name lay carved into its form.

'PURGATORIO'

Between this archway lay another glass-like membrane, clearly showing what was on the other side—a rocky, dark, and oppressive emptiness. On the cavern floor, a small puddle of black tar sat still and unmoving.

The cave where Cypher and Elie had originally entered the Well.

Cypher's form warped again, displaying that horrible reflection in the glass until the Man in the Wall raised a bony black finger, pressing it against the surface and casting his shadow onto the other side.

He pressed deeper, cutting in a downward motion that tore through the veil, creating another fissure—a portal for Cypher to pass through.

However, just before stepping forward, he looked above.

Another archway floated in the yellow void. This one was golden and holy, reeking of a heavenly touch. Symbols carved into its surface revealed patterns of eyes that seemed to move along with his gaze.

It was much taller than the others, majestic as if it lorded over them with its superior form.

Atop its heavenly embossed surface, another name was inscribed.

Yet there was no staircase leading to this archway. No way to enter.

"I'll unravel your secrets soon."

The rattling voice echoed into the empty space, reverberating across the surrounding staircases, causing their forms to decay faster.

Looking back at the archway in front of him, the Man in the Wall finally stepped forward, leaving the World Between Worlds—for now.

---

Thud!

A small, childlike body hit the floor, splashing in the tar of the cavern.

Nearby, a magenta fissure sealed tightly shut, cutting off its connection to the other side.

For a moment, silence. No movement.

Then, a desperate wail tore through the cavern, filling the space with the pained cries of a young man.

Cypher's hands clutched his throat, tearing at the skin as his body slowly returned to its normal complexion.

The sheer, unadulterated agony of what he was feeling was beyond pain. It was torture at a level that threatened to stop his heart at a moment's notice.

Memories of the deal with Corydon flooded in. Of being puppeteered by that thing, burning into his mind like a virus.

His screams bordered on choking.

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!"

Blood trickled down his eyes as he wrenched.

In all the time he had been under control, he had felt the untold obsession that being had with freedom—an obsession that went far past a goal and into insanity itself. It was as if all Corydon knew was breaking free.

And it had seeped into him as well.

"Huff..."

After some time, his screams ceased. Cypher shook as he snapped his head around, scanning the cavern walls for a shadow. He found nothing.

"Dammit! Dammit!"

Striking the black puddle in front of him, he tried to vent whatever anger and fear still lay within. Only after the ground cracked beyond recognition did he stop.

Then, he remembered something from the deal—something Corydon had said to him.

A voice entered his mind, almost tangible.

"You're dyyyying..."

"No, it can't be."

Opening his robes and staring down at his chest, Cypher found a small area near his heart completely overtaken by a hard, white substance akin to solid earth. On its surface, magenta cracks spread like a spider's web, glowing subtly and pulsing outward.

Their movements were slow—almost unnoticeable. But they were spreading.

Even now.

Wielding such a godly power, even for that fraction of time, was ensuring his death.

"You bastard!"

Cypher shouted at the wall.

But there was no response.

Only the brief sounds of explosions and metal wrang from the outside of the cave, likely from the battle he had left behind.

Cypher collapsed back to the ground, allowing reality to sink in. He had realised something, his memory of his past life had been altered.