The Truth

A green, abstract eye materializes in front of the monitor, hovering in place. Dr. Bob and the others stand frozen, speechless. Suddenly, a blinding white flash engulfs the room, and in the blink of an eye, Dr. Bob is swept away, thrust into an infinite cascade of unfolding stories. He begins to rise through the endless cascade of stories, each narrative he passes making the one before it feel more like a distant fantasy—irrelevant, meaningless, and trivial.

There was no up, no down—just endless layers of stories, in a entire stack. His perception began to blur. When he finally regained consciousness, it felt as if he had crossed into an entirely different realm. The sky above was a strange blend of orange, red and yellow, and nearby, a river flowed.

Upon closer inspection, it appeared to stretch on endlessly, its waters filled with infinite tales—abstract, formless, and without end. Everything felt like fiction,but what made it even stranger were the fish swimming through these stories, their scales adorned with bizarre mathematical patterns and symbols. A sound shattered the surreal silence. It was faint at first, like the distant echo of a horn blowing through the air—deep and reverberating. "What the hell?" Dr. Bob mumbled under his breath, his voice trembling. He felt his pulse quicken.

The river beckoned him. Though its course was unknown, something inside him urged him forward. He began walking, following its meandering path, drawn onward by an unexplainable force. As he moved, the air grew thicker, heavier, and a creeping unease gnawed at the edges of his thoughts. What kind of place was this? Was this some kind of bizarre dream?

Or worse, some twisted manifestation of his mind?

His footsteps echoed in the eerie stillness, but before he could reflect further, a sudden rustling from the dense trees to his left broke his thoughts. He glanced up. At first, he thought it was just a trick of the light—an illusion caused by the strange colors of the sky.

But no, there was something up there, moving quickly. Something large. Something—alive.

Dr. Bob's pulse hammered in his chest.

He instinctively took a step back, his eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of what had caused the movement. And then it happened.

A massive, monstrous bat-like creature came crashing down from above, its wings outstretched like black sails, blocking the sky in an instant. It was enormous—its wingspan was easily twice his height, and the sheer force of its descent caused the air to ripple. Dr. Bob's heart leaped into his throat as the creature's talons gleamed with malice, each claw sharp as a razor, designed for tearing through flesh.

Its three glowing eyes locked onto him, glowing with a fierce, otherworldly intelligence.

He tried to move, to run, but before he could react, the creature's talon shot out like a spear, grabbing him in a vice-like grip. His breath was knocked from his chest as he was lifted off the ground, soaring higher into the air. Panic flooded his mind, but there was no time for fear—only a dizzying sense of helplessness as he was carried toward the creature's nest.

As the creature's wings beat the air with an unnatural rhythm, Dr. Bob caught sight of its offspring.

Three smaller versions of the beast flew behind it, monstrous in their own right, their bodies towering well above him by at least ten feet. Their eyes glowed with the same unsettling, alien intensity. They were a family—this was their domain.

The nest had to be nearby, a place where danger and answers alike awaited.

Dr. Bob had no choice but to brace himself for whatever came next.