The Last Meal Before Becoming Myths
None of them spoke immediately after emerging from the spiral of light. Yet each of them felt the same thing: something had tasted them.
Not in any literal sense—but like a strange flavor, a lingering aftertaste.
Lisse broke the silence:
"It's like... the aftertaste of reality."
Jaro, ever blunt, grunted:
"Felt like an alien kissed me—and then asked about my hobbies."
Kael stayed silent. But he could still feel that strange pulse deep in his chest. The Helix Gate had left a trace—and it wasn't letting go just yet.
"Do you think it was... some kind of taste scanner?" Nyx asked quietly.
"More like an oven," Rav replied with a detached air, wiping imaginary sweat. "We've only been lightly roasted."
Lisse shrugged.
"That wasn't even the real Helix Gate. That was just the first door."
"The Plains of Falsehood," Jaro chimed in. "They say that's where memories get flipped inside-out—like old socks. And right now, we have no clue whose socks they are."
But the truth remained: they never fully traversed the Plains of Falsehood. Only a few steps inside, and the space collapsed around them. They were violently ejected—each landing in different spots. As if the Helix had rejected them, or simply wasn't prepared to accept them.
They each experienced something unique:
Lisse found herself wandering a city that morphed constantly, as though the buildings were struggling to remind her of something she'd never known.
Nyx heard whispers crawling through power cables and draped shadows, repeating names she couldn't recognize.
Jaro saw a soldier hand him a key before vanishing into a burst of fog.
Daryn said it felt like he was in his childhood home—except every piece of furniture spoke a language he'd long ago forgotten.
Kael? He saw himself standing at a doorway, swallowed by blinding light—and then emptiness. No noise. No structure. Only that relentless pulse, embedding itself deeper in his chest.
---
The emergency mess hall was cramped and damp. A single flashlight swung from a frayed cord, casting grotesque shadows across the metal walls. In the center, a battered table held one steaming pot responsible for an aroma that was far from appetizing.
They formed a loose circle around it—an audience staring into its steam.
"I first heard about the Helix Gate through Node 4's digital feed," Lisse began, voice steady but subdued. "Back then, I thought it was just nonsense—shadow experiments, dusty conspiracy theories."
Jaro snorted. "I saw a full squad go in there. Only half came out. The rest... probably became wall ornaments."
"And still, some never returned," Nyx mumbled. "They thought it was a promotional mission. The only thing promoted? Their graves."
Pari said nothing. Instead, she sketched swiftly: a narrow hallway with a glowing door and a screaming silhouette drowning in mist. Below it, a second, more absurd panel: a slender figure hugging a pot and sobbing, captioned—We died in vain.
"I heard something behind those walls," Daryn murmured, looking pale. "Not machines—more like a hungry stomach... singing."
A heavy silence followed. All eyes drifted to Kael, who remained motionless. His gaze swept across faces, unreadable—but filled with depths. He didn't speak. But everyone swallowed the knowledge: he was carrying more than any of them could see.
---
At the edge of the circle, Rav stirred the pot with a trembling hand. He dug into a worn satchel and retrieved: gray dried meat soaked in formalin, rusty cans with peeling labels, and the last half-cup of murky water.
"Formalin preserves meat for decades," he muttered, voice bloodless. "If this isn't food… at least it'll embalm our hunger."
"Are you sure that's—still food?" Lisse asked in a clipped tone.
"Sure? Not a chance. But hunger doesn't negotiate," Rav shrugged. "Call it improvised soup, post-apocalyptic stew. Must be hot. Must have color. And—" he lifted his spoon and praised its emptiness. "—Must not move on its own."
In silence, each of them ladled a portion into their bowls.
Daryn ate first, spoon by spoon—methodically, stoically.
"What?!" Lisse's voice cracked. "It's all gone?!"
He looked up, eyebrows raised. Then, a tired grin:
"I was hungry."
Jaro rose, chest heaving, finger aimed at Nyx.
"That soup was barely food—but she's still here, untouched!"
Nyx clamped her jaw.
"Cute. Getting hungry and pointing fingers? Maybe we should fry bolts—packed with iron. Or make paper pulp porridge—plant-based, vegan-friendly."
"CAN YOU EAT DIRT?! YOU'RE MADE OF DIRT, AREN'T YOU?!" Jaro's uppercut slammed the surface of the table.
Silence.
Pari stared down at her empty plate and sketched herself swaddled under a blanket… eating nothing but thin air.
Lisse smiled softly.
"Jaro, I saved some scraps from last night—want them recycled or distilled?"
The tension thawed.
---
Kael stood, quiet authority in his posture.
"Prepare your weapons. At dawn, we blow that place apart."
They moved, instinctively:
Pari rolled her sketches.
Daryn finished the last bit of soup.
Lisse packed utensils away.
Jaro lowered his head.
Nyx gnawed her pencil deliberately.
In that moment, they all understood:
It wasn't about food.
It was about choice.
And some decisions... aren't meant to be savored.
---
A short time later, Kael slipped away.
He hid among empty containers and pulled out a small device.
On its cracked screen, a message blinked:
Kael…
If you're reading this, you're too close to the truth.
Don't trust the face you call Mother.
Some doors are not meant to be opened—even by you.
— Eris Vale
His fingers trembled as he re-read the name.
Eris Vale.
Was she truly his mother?
Or just another shard of deception… waiting inside the Helix?
---
Hours before dawn, the war room doubled as a stage for the absurd.
Jaro climbed onto the table, spoon held like a microphone.
"Guys, bury me next to Omega-2's cafeteria if I die. That's where I tasted… logic."
Nyx watched, amused.
"Don't worry, senior. If you fall, we'll make sure your heroism is written with your preferred level of drama."
Rav poured a viscous fluid into a vial.
"If this bio-weapon fails to dissolve them… it'll at least have them puking for a week straight."
Pari lifted a brand-new sketch:
"Ready to die—as long as my hair stays perfect."
Daryn tested his homemade grenades and hummed off-key:
"Boom boom… little bombs, spicy and hot~"
Lisse, inwardly deadpan, added:
"If we die absurdly—it's still resistance."
Kael silently sharpened his blade. A slight curl of his lips hinted… maybe a smile. Or maybe not.
One thing rang true:
They were not afraid.
They were preparing—each in their own ridiculous way.
And come dawn, the Helix Gate would learn something terrifying:
They would arrive with laughter…
But they came—to end it all.
And perhaps—
This had been their final meal… before becoming myths.
---