the golden inscription

Noah shivered. The feeling wasn't just fear—it was something deeper… a primal terror, as if something inside him knew he wasn't supposed to be here.

He felt his body rejecting the place, as if his very skin wanted to peel away and escape. His breath came in shallow, icy gasps. He tried to step back, but his feet wouldn't move. It was as if the ground itself was holding him in place.

"Welcome to the threshold."

The voice echoed in his mind—not as spoken words, but as thoughts forcibly planted inside him. They seeped in like fog slipping through cracks—cold, sharp, undeniable.

Then… the creature emerged from the darkness.

"You… are not complete yet."

The words resonated within his mind, not spoken but imposed, as if an idea had been forced into his thoughts rather than uttered aloud. It was strange, disorienting—but not the most terrifying thing.

The creature moved… no, it shifted.

It resembled a cat, but it wasn't truly a cat. Its form pulsed and wavered, expanding and contracting as if the air around it refused to settle, as if its very existence was uncertain of what it should be. Its tail twisted in the air like a serpent moving of its own will. Its ears flickered—disappearing for a moment, then reappearing as if they had never left. Even its black fur was more than just hair—it was like the night itself, living, coiling around its form.

But the most horrifying thing… was its smile.

Suddenly, its mouth split open—too wide, unnaturally so. Rows of jagged teeth, long and uneven, lined its gaping maw as if they had been gathered from different creatures and stitched together. Yet, there was no saliva, no movement of lips—just that horrific, slashed grin carved into a black void.

Noah wanted to retreat, to run, to do anything—but he couldn't. His body no longer felt like his own. He was weightless, a mere thought suspended in the air, an unfinished dream trapped between waking and oblivion.

Then, the creature moved.

It lifted a single claw and traced a circle in the air.

And the world around him exploded.

The air thickened, turning heavy, almost liquid. The ground beneath his feet twisted and writhed. Trees, rocks—even the sky—began to distort. It was as if reality itself was merely ink on paper, now being torn apart and redrawn.

Colors bled into existence—shades of red, violet, and other hues that had no name, shades that should not exist. There was no light, yet everything glowed with an eerie, pulsating radiance, as though the very space around him had come alive.

Then, the voices began.

Whispers. Distant screams. A chorus of unintelligible murmurs surrounding him from all directions. Some of them, he was certain, were calling his name.

The creature stepped closer, unaffected by the chaos unraveling around them.

"You are approaching the truth."

It took another step forward.

"But the truth does not accept you yet."

Then, it pushed him.

It never touched him, yet an invisible force wrenched him backward with violent intensity. He fell—not onto the ground, but into nothingness. He plummeted, weightless, sinking deeper and deeper into an endless void.

Just before darkness swallowed him whole, the creature raised its claw once more and traced a circle in the air.

And suddenly… the world changed.

---

"Noah! Wake up!"

A sharp blow to his chest forced air back into his lungs, as if they had been trapped in a glass cage. Before he could fully grasp where he was, another forceful jolt struck his shoulder.

"I said, wake up!"

This time, the voice was clearer—sharp, real. It was not a whisper from the void, not an echo of some unknown entity in the abyss.

He gasped, jerking upright, ignoring the dizziness that crashed over him. He was on the floor—but not falling into an endless void, not surrounded by shifting colors or fading voices. He was in his room. A familiar space.

"A nightmare?"

"Noah! Wake up!"

His breath caught in his throat, his sweat-drenched body trembling. The sensation of falling lingered, echoes of distorted screams still chased the edges of his mind. He reached out toward the darkness, but it was stronger than him—unyielding.

"Noah! Please, wake up!"

A soft, trembling voice—fragile, laced with worry.

His eyes snapped open, clinging to reality as a drowning man clings to the surface of the water. The first thing he saw was his sister, Talia.

"You were mumbling again…" she whispered, retreating slightly, wringing her fingers in anxious loops.

He took a deep breath, running his hands over his face. "I'm fine…" Yet, his voice lacked conviction, even to himself.

The final echoes of his nightmare still pulsed in his skull—distorted images, fog, and a voice that did not belong to him.

"Finally! I was about to hit you with a shoe!"

He turned toward Talia—his little sister, with wide hazel eyes and a mess of reddish-brown hair.

She stood beside him, arms crossed, staring at him with a mix of concern and frustration. He tried to speak, but the words wouldn't come. A strange taste lingered in his mouth—a bitter, metallic tang, as if he had bitten into something that wasn't there. He raised his hand to wipe his lips… and then froze.

There.

Black residue stained his fingers.

It wasn't ink. It wasn't blood.

It was something… more.

Talia's brows furrowed as she caught sight of his hand.

"What's that?" she asked, her voice light yet tinged with unease.

His heart pounded. The nightmare hadn't been just a dream. It was the beginning of something far greater.

And then, before he could answer, he heard another sound.

It wasn't Talia's voice.

And it wasn't human.

A soft whisper… coming from the corner of the room.

What crept through his veins wasn't fear—but something else. A strange recognition, like recalling a memory from another life.

Slowly, he turned his head.

And there, amid the shadows… two golden eyes stared back at him.

Smiling.