No wind. No birdsong. Just a dry, suffocating stillness — like the planet itself is holding its breath.
The ground beneath his boots feels brittle, scattered with ash that clings to the soles like ghosts of the people who once lived here.
Above him, the sky stretches wide and endless, painted in clear blacks and deep purples that peel back the veil of atmosphere, revealing the stars in chilling clarity.
It’s beautiful — a horrible kind of beautiful. A haunting, cosmic pretty that makes him feel small in all the wrong ways.
“I feel lightheaded,” Markus says, putting a hand to his forehead.
“This atmosphere is different from Earth,” Lemres replies. “Don’t worry — you’ll get used to it.”
The temple looms ahead, taller than anything Markus has ever seen in person. It looks ancient, like it’s been here long before even Lemres was born.
Stone steps climb toward a spiraling tower that twists into the sky, half of it crumbling and broken. Pieces of the upper walls hover midair — not falling, just… hanging, like gravity has given up on this place.
Moss and vines cling to the stone, but nothing about it feels alive. It feels still. Heavy.
Like the kind of place where gods die and are buried without names.
“This is the Temple of the Life-Giving Blade,” Lemres says. His voice has lost its usual calm — now quiet, almost reverent.
“When you’re inside… it’ll mess with your mind,” Lemres says. “Doesn’t matter what you see in there — memories, lies, whatever it shows you — just keep moving.”
“Okay,” Markus says, stepping forward. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. “Looks like I’ll be doing this alone.”
Lemres nods. “Before you go — one sec. Portals are a universal feature of the Mahoishi. Let me show you how to use it.”
He raises his Mahoishi crystal and holds it out in front of him.
“Think of where you want to go,” he explains. “Then lower it slowly… and jolt it upward, fast.”
A shimmering portal snaps open — a swirling window revealing a windswept plain on the moon.
“Try not to use it too much,” Lemres adds, turning to Markus. “You’re still new to this, and mana sickness is still a risk if you overdo it.”
Markus looks down at his Mahoishi, then back at the glowing portal.
“Do I have to have a specific location in mind,” he asks, “or will something like… ‘take me to this person’ work?”
Lemres smirks. “How do you think I was always able to find you so easily?”
“Okay… thank you,” Markus says, gripping the Mahoishi a little tighter as he turns toward the temple.
“Don’t thank me,” Lemres calls after him. “You very well may die.”
Markus pauses at the threshold, letting out a shaky breath. Then he steps inside.
The moment Markus crosses the threshold, the air changes.
The temperature drops a few degrees, but it isn’t just cold — it’s hollow. Like the space inside the temple has been drained of something vital. He moves forward slowly, each footstep echoing down a stone hallway that stretches far beyond what should fit inside the building.
The walls are carved with symbols he can’t read — winding lines and sharp angles that seem to shift if he stares at them too long. Faint light pulses from crystals embedded along the ceiling, casting flickering shadows that crawl like insects across the floor.
The hallway bends and turns without warning. Sometimes it narrows, forcing him to turn sideways to squeeze through. Other times, it widens into open chambers that are completely empty, save for the oppressive sense of being watched.
Markus glances behind him more than once.
Nothing. Just the same hallway stretching endlessly into the dark.
The exit is already gone.
He presses forward and steps into a small chamber. It’s almost completely bare — just stone walls, flickering crystal light, and a single stone tablet standing in the center.
Strange symbols, like the ones carved into the hallway walls, are etched deep into its surface.
Markus frowns.
Wait a minute… how can Lemres read English?
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his Mahoishi.
“Translate,” he whispers, focusing on the tablet.
The symbols shimmer, twist, and slowly shift — until they form clear, familiar letters.
- Always make the right choice.
“Yes!” Markus whispers to himself, a little proud.
In front of him, three new hallways silently open.
No labels. No lights. Just three paths.
He glances at the message again.
Always make the right choice.
Markus takes a breath… and steps into the hallway on the far right.
After walking for a minute or so — though he has no easy way to tell time in here — he finds a door.
A wooden door. Simple. Out of place.
Unlike the cold stone walls around him, this door looks… familiar. The chipped white paint. The brass doorknob, with the number 2 engraved into its side. The way it tilts ever so slightly on its hinges, like it’s never been fixed properly.
He knows this door.
Opening it, Markus steps into a living room he hasn’t seen in years — but remembers instantly. The couch sits right where it always has, facing the old TV. Same cracked remote on the armrest. Same throw blanket bunched up in the corner like someone just left.
He moves cautiously down the hall, passing familiar rooms. On the left, his old bedroom — the posters, the clutter. Across from it, his parents’ room, door slightly ajar. And at the end on the right, the bathroom, with the broken towel rack still hanging crooked.
It’s all exactly how he remembers it.
Turning back, he steps into the kitchen. The tile floor squeaks under his shoes. The lights buzz faintly. And there, just beyond the kitchen counter, stands the back door.
He tries the handle. Locked.
Of course.
I need a key, he thinks. Figures this place would turn into a puzzle box.
He glances around the kitchen, already guessing what comes next.
If this place wants him to remember… it probably wants him to search, too.
Then he hears it.
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“Oh, you’re home from school early,” says a voice he hasn’t heard in a long, long time.
Markus freezes.
He turns toward the kitchen doorway, and there she is.
“Mom…” he whispers, tears already welling in his eyes.
She smiles like nothing has ever gone wrong in the world. Like no time has passed at all.
“I made some cookies,” she says warmly, holding out a plate and a glass of milk.
Markus steps forward on trembling legs. He takes the plate. The cookies are warm. Familiar. The same soft edges, the same smell. He takes a bite.
“They’re just like the ones you used to make,” he says, voice shaking.
And for a moment — just a moment — it feels like he’s really home.
With a cookie in hand, Markus walks back into the living room and sets the glass of milk on the floor beside the couch.
He isn’t sure why — maybe instinct, maybe habit — but the moment he presses the power button, static flickers into a local news report.
“…a flood warning has been issued across southern Florida. Several homes—”
Click.
His mother appears beside him, gently switching off the TV with a warm smile.
“No need to worry about all that,” she says softly. “Your father should be back with Alexia soon.”
As if on cue, the front door creaks open.
Markus turns just in time to see a man step through — tall, broad-shouldered, with kind eyes and work-worn hands.
Dad.
He freezes. His breath catches in his throat.
His father smiles.
“Hey, kiddo.”
“Hi’ya, Markus!”
He barely has time to turn before she’s on him — Alexia, sprinting into the kitchen like a blur of neon and energy, just like she always used to. She wraps her arms around him in a tight, familiar hug.
“Alexia…?” Markus blinks. “It’s so nice to see you.”
She pulls back just enough to grin at him, eyes bright. “Duh, it’s me. Who else would it be?”
Markus looks between her and the mother figure still smiling by the counter.
His hands tighten around the glass of milk. Something’s off. Too perfect. Too staged.
But it feels good. It feels safe.
And that’s what scares him.
In one hand, his dad holds a bright orange Nerf gun. He tosses it to Markus with a grin.
“Ready, kid? You think you two can take us?”
Behind him, Alexia pokes her head in, holding a second Nerf gun already cocked and aimed.
She giggles. “We’ve been planning our revenge all day.”
Markus catches the toy, staring down at it. His fingers curl around the foam trigger like they used to, back when weekends meant blanket forts and pretend wars in the living room.
He looks up. They’re both smiling at him — bright, warm, full of life. Like nothing bad has ever happened. Like he’s never left.
“You’ve gotten good with a gun, kid,” his dad says, giving him an approving nod. “You’ll make a fine soldier when you’re older.”
Markus blinks, caught off guard.
“Aww, I’m not that good,” he says, laughing nervously. But something about the word soldier makes his stomach twist — a feeling he wouldn’t have had back then.
He glances down at the Nerf gun in his hand. The bright orange plastic suddenly feels heavier.
“Markus, can I talk to you in your room?” Alexia asks, gently grabbing his arm.
Before he can answer, she’s already pulling him down the hallway, into his old bedroom. It’s exactly how he remembers it — faded posters on the walls, cluttered desk, the slight sag in the mattress he always meant to fix.
She sits him down on the edge of the bed, then stands in front of him, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. Her voice drops to a soft, nervous whisper.
“I was thinking about what you asked me,” she says, cheeks flushing pink. “And…”
She looks him in the eyes, takes a deep breath.
“Yes. I’ll go to prom with you.”
Markus freezes.
Alexia leans in slowly, her eyes half-lidded, waiting — inviting. A kiss. The one he always wanted but never got.
For a second, his heart catches in his throat. But then… he breathes.
“This isn’t real,” he says softly. “I had a crush on you back when we were in school, yeah… but you never saw me like that. Not even once.”
Alexia’s expression doesn’t change.
Then she pounces, grabbing him, pushing him back onto the bed. “Come on,” she whispers. “You know you want this. Just let it happen.”
Her voice is different now. Not Alexia’s. Too smooth. Too perfect.
“You might not be wrong,” Markus says, slowly pushing her back. “But I can’t. I’m sorry, Alexia…”
He stands up, steadier now.
“I need to find that key. And I need to move on.”
“I… I don’t understand,” Alexia says, tears welling in her eyes.
Markus looks away, jaw tight. He clenches his fists.
“Just keep moving,” he whispers to himself. “Just keep moving…”
But then he hears her crying.
She’s sitting on the bed, hugging her knees, shoulders shaking.
He sighs, turns around to comfort her, petting her hair and bringing her to his side.
“Hey, Alexia,” Markus says to her.
“Can I show you something? A secret… just you and me. Like we used to do when we were kids.”
“We are kids, you nerd,” she says with a soft laugh, wiping her eyes.
Markus smiles sadly and reaches out, taking her hand.
“Come on,” he says. “I want to show you something.”
He leads her out of the room, down the hallway, and back into the living room. The illusion still holds — warm, safe, quiet. He could almost forget.
Markus turns on the TV.
The screen flickers, static dancing for a second before cutting to a local news broadcast.
Alexia nods slowly, her voice quieter now, almost distant.
“Okay… you need the key to get to the Life-Giving Blade.”
“Yeah,” Markus says, holding her gaze, softer now. “I do.”
She smiles — not the mischievous grin he’s used to, but something gentler. Sadder.
Alexia walks over to his old dresser — the one with the chipped corner and the drawer he used to put his metal bracelet in. She kneels down, opens it, and rummages through like she already knows what she’s looking for.
She smiles again. That old spark flashes in her eyes — just for a second.
“Then come back to me, alright?” she says, grinning as she punches him in the arm. “Don’t make me come drag you out of whatever epic magical mess you find next.”
Markus laughs, and for a brief moment, it feels real.
Then he turns toward the kitchen — toward the back door.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
Markus freezes.
He turns slowly — and there she is.
His mother, standing right beside him, too close. Her smile is gone. Her eyes are wide now, intense. Almost… empty.
“I’m leaving,” Markus says, gripping the key tightly in his hand. He steps up to the back door, the one that’s always been locked.
“Just keep moving.”
He slides the key into the lock.
Click.
“No!” his mother snaps, her voice rising with sudden force. “You’re grounded!”
Markus grabs his Mahoishi, his hand shaking but steady.
“Get out of my way,” he says.
Both of his parents appear in front of the door — suddenly, jarringly. His father steps forward and slaps him hard across the face.
Markus stumbles back, more shocked than hurt.
“You’re not my parents,” he says, glaring at them. His voice isn’t afraid, or pleading. It’s calm. Certain.
The Mahoishi stone in his hand glows, pulsing faintly.
Then Markus turns it off.
He doesn’t need it.
His mother’s voice cracks. “If you leave… we’ll die again. Do you really want that?”
His father steps closer. “Do you remember what you went through after we passed? The grief? The stress? You had to work two jobs just to keep the lights on. Do you want to go through that again?”
Markus clenches his jaw. His chest aches — but not with guilt. With clarity.
He looks between them, steady now.
“My parents — my real parents — taught me the importance of responsibility,” he says, stepping forward. “They wouldn’t ask me to turn back now. They’d understand that I have something I need to do.”
He takes another step.
“You’re right. There was a lot of hardship. I was still in school when I lost them. And maybe… maybe I did lose myself for a while. Maybe you even had me for a second.”
He looks them both in the eyes — or whatever is wearing their faces.
“But now I see just how much more life has to offer. Alexia and I — we’re closer than ever. And I have a girlfriend now.”
His voice softens, a real smile forming.
“Her name’s Liddle. She’s the sweetest thing. Kind, funny, brave in her own quiet way. It’s… honestly kind of sad you’ll never get to meet her.”
He looks toward the door, hand on the knob.
“But I’ll fight with everything I’ve got to make sure she and Alexia have a future — the kind you gave me.”
Then, with a final breath, Markus turns the knob and steps through the door.
Behind him, his mother’s voice follows, soft and fading.
“We’re proud of you.”
Markus doesn’t look back — but he smiles.
“I love you too,” he says quietly, closing the door behind him. “I’m going to save the Earth… the one you both loved so much.”
The door shuts with a gentle click.
Then it vanishes — not fades, not crumbles, just gone — leaving Markus standing in another hallway, darker and colder than before. The air feels heavier now, like the trial has peeled something from him, leaving only the truth behind.
He stands there for a moment, heart still racing, then takes a deep breath.
No illusions. No voices. Just stone beneath his feet and a path still ahead.
Markus keeps walking.
One step at a time, he moves forward — toward the Life-Giving Blade.