Kestrel

The darkness was profound, pierced only by the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps. As the steps came to a halt, a sudden beam of light shattered the void—it emanated from a cellphone.

The glow illuminated a face that, despite its inherent handsomeness, was marred by exhaustion and pallor. His expression was weary, his demeanor tense, as though burdened by an oppressive weight.

"Recording, session four. Time: 3:51 PM." Kestrel activated the screen capture.

"I still haven't found an exit. Everything here is encased in metal, even the floors and ceilings."

He reached out, pressing his fingers against the nearest wall. The surface was cold, smooth, and unyielding, its texture alien yet eerily precise.

Raising his phone, he switched on the flashlight, sweeping the beam across the metallic expanse. The walls exuded an austere silver-gray, an impersonal and unwelcoming hue that seemed to stretch infinitely.

"The corridors form an intricate labyrinth of interlocking metal pathways. Doors are embedded at irregular intervals along the walls, though most refuse to yield. I... I woke up inside one of the chambers—inside a freezer."

His voice wavered, laced with uncertainty. "I don't recognize this place. I've never seen anything like it before—not in reality, not even in the depths of the internet. No signposts, no indicators, nothing that offers the slightest hint as to where I am."

He exhaled sharply. "I have no memory of how I got here. There's a gap in my recollection—a void. My last memory is of the summer after my college entrance exams. Everything before that remains crystal clear: my parents, my dog, the games I played. But beyond that... nothing."

"Something must have happened. Something that led to me being stuffed into a freezer and abandoned in this forsaken place. But what? Why can't I remember?" His frustration bled into his words, his voice tightening with urgency. He took a steadying breath before continuing.

"My phone shows the year as 2030. If this is accurate, then I've lost five years—five entire years, erased as though they never existed."

"What the hell happened in those missing years? And where am I?"

At that moment, a soft chime disrupted the silence. A notification flashed across the phone's screen: Battery critically low. Flashlight unavailable.

Kestrel clenched his jaw. He could no longer afford to waste time. Whatever had transpired in the past, it was irrelevant if he remained trapped here. Escape was his only priority—if he perished in this place, then everything that had happened before would cease to matter.

Pressing his lips together, he forced himself to focus. "Earlier, I mentioned the metal doors. But what's strange is that they're not just on the walls. There are doors embedded in the ceiling... and in the floor."

A shiver crept down his spine as he continued. "And from behind one of those doors, I heard something. A sound—faint, yet distinct. Something is moving on the other side. I have to check it out."

Guided by touch, he traced the cold metal surface as he moved left. After a minute, he came to a stop, tilting his head back to gaze at the door looming above him. Raising his phone, he aimed the dim screen toward the abyssal blackness.

"Can you hear it? A soft, rhythmic beeping... like an electronic pulse from somewhere deep inside."

"Battery's nearly dead. No more delays. I'm going in." With that, Kestrel ended the recording.

Estimating the height, he stepped back, braced himself, and leapt. His fingers latched onto the doorframe's edge, knuckles whitening as he struggled to pull himself up.

It took every ounce of strength he possessed. Hand over hand, foot over foot, he climbed—until, at last, he heaved himself through the threshold.

Standing within the new chamber, he lifted his phone, casting its glow across the room.

Mechanical limbs protruded from the walls like skeletal branches, forming a bizarre metallic forest. Many of them were stripped of their casings, their intricate inner workings exposed. And above—another door loomed at the ceiling's apex.

From beyond it, the beeping persisted.

"What the hell is this place?" Kestrel muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

With measured steps, he navigated the mechanical appendages, climbing ever higher. When he finally passed through the second door, the origin of the sound revealed itself: a single, pulsating red dot, blinking in perfect synchronization with the rhythmic beeps.

Kestrel lifted his phone, recording once more. "Look at this. That red light—it's part of a screen. I'll document everything. If I lose my memory again, at least I'll have this."

Just as the words left his lips, his phone screen flickered, went dark, and then—

The brand logo appeared. The device had shut down.

"Oh, come on! Of all times—!" He cursed, shoving the useless phone into his pocket, frustration gnawing at his nerves.

With no other options, he turned his full attention to the blinking red light. He hesitated.

Fear whispered in his mind: What if pressing it triggers something catastrophic?

But another fear loomed larger: What if nothing happens at all?

This was his only lead. If this failed, then he was well and truly trapped.

Drawing a steady breath, Kestrel reached out. His fingertip hovered for a heartbeat—then pressed the light.

The dot vanished, swallowed by the encroaching darkness.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then, the floor trembled beneath him.

A deep, reverberating hum vibrated through the chamber, a frequency that resonated in his very bones.

Panic surged within him as he scanned the darkened room, bracing for the unknown.

And then—his feet left the ground.

Gravity relinquished its grip. He was floating.

Stunned, his breath caught in his throat. "I... I'm flying? What the hell is happening?!"

Before he could fully process the absurdity, a low rumble echoed through the space. The arched wall before him split apart, a sliver of searing white light bleeding through the widening crevice.

The brightness forced him to squint. When his eyes adjusted, he saw it.

Beyond the parted walls, stretching endlessly into the abyss of space—

A planet.

A world so vast, so immediate, that it consumed his entire vision. His pulse pounded in his ears, his breath shallow and ragged. The sheer magnitude of it left him breathless, dwarfed beneath its silent, celestial presence.

The light of a distant star illuminated one hemisphere, while the other receded into infinite shadow—an unfathomable chasm, like the maw of some cosmic leviathan.

His heart hammered in his chest. Slowly, he glanced down at his floating feet, then back at the looming sphere outside the glass.

And then it hit him.

"Holy shit… I've been in space this whole time?!"