Chapter 4: Trial
A piercing white light burned through Nur's eyelids, forcing a slow, reluctant blink. His breath hitched as he stirred, his throat dry, voice cracked.
"Did I make it out?" The words barely escaped him.
The desert was gone. No scorching winds, no endless dunes. But the vast white space remained, stretching infinitely, smothering hope. A weight settled in his chest—he hadn't escaped.
A sickening warmth clung to his skin. He shifted, only to feel the thick, sticky pull of liquid beneath him. Blood. A pool of it. His blood.
His stomach twisted, but the expected pain never came. He braced himself, hands pressing against his thighs where the wound should have been. Nothing. No torn flesh, no searing agony. Only a hole in his pants—a cruel reminder that the injury had been real. Yet, something had healed him.
Then it struck him—the pen.
Frantic, he patted himself down, fingers fumbling. His breath steadied when his gaze landed beside him. The pen lay there, slick with blood.
He picked it up, his grip firm despite the crimson coating his fingers. A weary sigh escaped him. "Thank God, I didn't lose it."
Tucking it safely into his trench coat, he let out a shaky breath. "Taliah… she must've put it there. I have to find her. Thank her. If not for this…" His voice trailed off, the desert's ghostly mirage flashing in his mind.
He rose, boots pressing into the slick surface beneath him. A fading trail of blood marked his steps, vanishing as though this space refused to hold onto anything real.
His destination remained unknown. But now, at least, his purpose was clear. Find Taliah. Return home.
…
An abyss stretched endlessly, a void so absolute it felt as if existence itself had been devoured.
From the crack in the space of that pitch-black void, light gushed through it.
Beneath that ethereal glow lay the ruins of a spaceship, its hull torn and battered, a ghostly remnant of some forgotten tragedy.
Then—amid the silence—came a sound.
Soft. Trembling.
A child's cry, barely more than a whisper, yet heavy with desperation.
The weeping wove through the void, fragile and distant, swallowed almost as soon as it was heard. Yet it lingered—an echo pleading for someone, anyone, to listen.
…
Nur walked—relentless, restless. His steps echoed in the vast emptiness, the sound bouncing back at him like whispers mocking his solitude. He had no direction, no landmark to guide him, only the gnawing questions clawing at his mind.
Where was he? How did he get here? And most importantly—how did he leave?
He braced himself for another trial, but what awaited him was far worse than any physical torment. The space around him stirred. A cacophony of sounds crashed against his ears—his own footsteps, his breath, the frantic beating of his heart. Everything was too loud, too sharp, as if his senses had been heightened beyond human limits. It was suffocating.
His determination stood unbroken. His body? It was crumbling. His mind… slipping.
He needed rest. His muscles screamed for it, his very bones felt like they were grinding against each other. But guilt anchored him, a weight heavier than exhaustion.
Taliah might be out there, suffering alone.
He clenched his fists. Because of me.
No one would find her. No one but him.
Rest was a luxury he couldn't afford. Not while she could be in pain. Not while he still had legs to stand.
Hours—or was it days?—passed. The fatigue gnawed at him until his knees finally buckled.
"I'm… exhausted…" he panted, his chest heaving. "I don't think I can go on…"
His mind wandered in delirium. An energy bar would've been nice—no, what the hell am I thinking? Have I lost my mind?
A dry, humorless laugh escaped him. His own voice sounded foreign—hollow, detached, like it belonged to someone else.
"No… I would never have come here in the first place."
He slumped forward, arms shaking as he pressed his hands against the invisible floor beneath him.
"I don't care anymore… Please, just—please, at least keep her safe."
His throat tightened, the plea barely more than a whisper. Tears welled in his eyes, but he swallowed them down. He had no right to break—not yet.
The bloodstains on his trench coat had long dried, dark patches marking the passage of time he could no longer track.
He pushed himself up, back straight but knees still on the ground. His vision blurred—sweat, or tears? He didn't know. Didn't care.
Then—
A black dot.
Tiny. Distant. A speck against the vast white void.
His body begged him to stop, but his mind latched onto it. His vision adjusted, focusing.
It's there.
A desperate thought clawed at his tired brain. An exit?
His muscles had barely rested, but he forced himself up. The moment his legs moved, pain shot through them like knives, his own body resisting him.
But he ran.
One step. Then another. His breaths came out ragged, his limbs sluggish, but he kept going.
Then—
Cold.
A sensation slithered across his skin, clinging to him like unseen hands. His clothes felt heavier, damp. At first, he thought it was sweat, but no—it was denser, chilling him to the bone.
"What the hell…?" His voice was hoarse.
The more he ran, the heavier he felt. His limbs moved as if submerged in tar.
No, not tar.
Water.
A sudden weight yanked him downward.
Bubbles erupted around him.
His lungs screamed for air.
Blugg!
The world shifted. No longer the void. No longer the endless white.
Nur thrashed, limbs flailing in blind panic.
Waves crashed. The cold swallowed him whole.
Then—air.
Gasping, coughing, he broke through the surface, chest heaving as he fought to stay afloat.
No. Not this. Anything but this!
The realization hit him harder than the water itself.
The ocean.
His breath caught in his throat. Not from the cold, but from something far worse.
T-this isn't just deep water…
The vastness stretched around him, endless, unknowable. The weight of it pressed against his ribs, his heartbeat pounding against his skull. He dared not look down.
Something was there.
Watching.
He froze. His instincts screamed at him to swim, to escape—but where?
His fingers twitched, reaching into his coat.
Nothing.
His heart dropped.
The pen. It's gone.
His body stiffened. His mind fractured.
For the first time since he arrived in this nightmare, true terror gripped him.
His vision darkened at the edges, his thoughts spiraling. He had nothing left—no plan, no strength, no way out.
Slowly, he stopped moving.
He closed his eyes, slowly drifting
The ocean cradled him, gentle, deceivingly calm. The waves rocked him as he floated on his back, staring at the sky.
For a brief moment, it was… beautiful. The sun shone, golden against the vast blue, the clouds drifting lazily as if dancing.
Nur let out a shaky breath.
This… isn't so bad…
But the thought was fleeting.
The fear still lurked beneath.
The abyss below him was silent. Waiting.
His stomach growled—a sound he hadn't heard in what felt like eternity.
He let out a humorless chuckle. So I can feel hunger here…
But it didn't matter.
There was only one way left.
"Don't have a choice," he muttered, voice barely above a whisper. "If it doesn't work, then too bad."
Taking a final breath, he let himself sink.
The water swallowed him whole.
Deeper.
Darker.
His lungs burned. His limbs ached. His vision blurred.
Ah… this feeling… of letting go…
Falling to the bottom slowly on his back, his gaze turned upward, toward the shimmering surface.
Then—
A glimmer.
A bright light, barely visible.
His mind, slipping into unconsciousness, latched onto a final thought.
What is that?
His vision faded.