Elvander Gray sprinted through the labyrinthine corridors of the Tower, his pulse hammering in his ears. The surrounding walls shimmered faintly, alive with alien glyphs that twisted and flowed like mercury. The air was suffocating, thick with a damp chill that pressed against his lungs. His built-in torch cast a faltering beam ahead, its light barely enough to fend off the crushing darkness that loomed like a predator waiting to pounce.

Behind him, wet, slithering sounds grew louder.

The creatures were relentless, their forms shifting like living ink. They were multidimensional beings, their shapes never entirely solid, oozing black liquid that hissed when it touched the walls. Jagged limbs emerged and retracted, slicing the air with unnatural precision. Their eyes—when they chose to have eyes—were voids that seemed to consume light and radiate cold indifference.

Elvander stumbled, his foot catching on an uneven panel of the floor. He glanced back and saw the creature rise to its full height, its tar-like body splitting apart into jagged segments that snapped together as it moved. It let out a sound that scraped against his mind, a mix of guttural growls and mechanical shrieks.

He threw himself into a narrow side passage, his shoulder grazing the sharp edge of a doorway. Pain shot through him, but he couldn’t stop. The Tower’s corridors twisted as if alive, narrowing and bending in ways that defied geometry.

It’s the Choron Zone itself, he thought, his teeth gritted against rising panic. It’s controlling the space.

The torch on his wrist flickered, casting erratic shadows that made the walls seem to close in tighter.

“Don’t do this now,” he hissed, slapping the device. The light flared for a brief moment, revealing a corridor that had shifted again. What had once been smooth, metallic walls now bore the rough texture of stone. The glyphs dimmed, replaced by angular carvings that tugged at his memory.

His boots scraped against the floor—no longer smooth but granular, ancient. A layer of sand had appeared beneath him, and the air smelled faintly of dust and age. The alien machinery of the Tower was vanishing, dissolving into something eerily terrestrial.

The slope beneath his feet steepened, forcing him to climb. The creatures surged behind him, their liquid forms seeping through cracks in the walls and pooling together. Elvander could feel the cold radiating from them, the chill of the void pressing against his heels.

He stumbled again, his hands catching the walls for support. They weren’t smooth anymore. The texture was porous, pockmarked with the erosion of millennia. His palm brushed over carved hieroglyphs, their shapes familiar yet foreign in this context. His breath hitched.

No… it can’t be.

The light from his torch dimmed further, leaving him in near darkness. He crawled now, the passage too narrow to stand. His back scraped against the low ceiling as he pushed forward, every muscle in his body screaming for relief. The whispers of the Choron Zone echoed in his mind, a chorus of threats and taunts that clawed at his sanity.

You are nothing. You will fail. You will die in the dark.

The sound of the creatures behind him grew louder, closer. He could feel their presence, a tide of cold malice closing in.

And then, ahead, a faint glow.

It was warm, golden, promising salvation. Elvander surged forward, clawing his way through the narrow passage. The creatures hissed, their forms recoiling from the light, but they didn’t retreat entirely. They clung to the shadows, waiting for the glow to fade.

He reached the opening and tumbled out into a vast chamber. The ceiling narrowed to a sharp point high above, and the walls slanted upward. Hieroglyphs covering every surface glowed faintly, the light pulsing like a heartbeat. The air was colder here, but it carried a sense of reverence, an ancient weight that pressed on his chest.

Elvander’s breath caught as he looked around. He knew this place. The hieroglyphs, the architecture—it was unmistakable.

He climbed toward the shaft of light, squeezing through a narrow crevice. Sand spilled around him as he emerged into the blinding brilliance of the desert sun.

For a moment, he stood there, gasping for air, the heat of the sun banishing the chill that had clung to his body. He blinked, his vision adjusting to the endless expanse of golden dunes and the cerulean sky above.

Turning back, he saw where he had emerged. The Great Pyramid of Khufu loomed behind him, its limestone surface weathered but unmistakable.

The creatures had stopped at the edge of the shadows, their forms coiling in frustration. The sunlight was their barrier, and they writhed at its edges like smoke caught in a draft.

Elvander took a step back, his hands trembling. The revelation hit him like a hammer blow. The Tower he had escaped wasn’t a separate structure. It was part of something far older, something that had been buried and hidden beneath millennia of sand and history.

The Great Pyramid wasn’t a tomb. It was a peak. The tip of a vast, chthonic tower that stretched deep into the earth—a gateway to an ancient, malevolent dimension.

He turned to the desert; the wind whipping sand against his face. He had escaped, for now. But the Choron Zone’s creatures were patient. They would wait.

And Elvander knew he couldn’t stay in the light forever.As the desert wind lashed at his face, Elvander struggled to catch his breath. The adrenaline from his escape still coursed through his veins, leaving his limbs trembling. His eyes lingered on the massive silhouette of the Great Pyramid behind him, the ancient limestone glowing faintly under the midday sun.

He pressed a hand to his temple, trying to steady himself. But before he could form another thought, the world seemed to blur. A familiar presence washed over him—a voice, soft and insistent, whispering in the corners of his mind.

“Elvander,” the voice called.

His vision faltered, the endless dunes fracturing like glass. Suddenly, he was no longer standing in the desert. Instead, he found himself seated in a dimly lit room, the faint hum of a machine in the background. A warm, pale light illuminated the figure of Ana Zognosia, her eyes searching his face with quiet intensity.

She leaned forward, the corners of her lips curling into the faintest smile. “You did well to escape. But this is only the beginning.”

Elvander blinked, his body still shaking from the ordeal. “Was it real? The creatures, the corridors—the Pyramid?”

Ana tilted her head. “Reality bends when you step into the Choron Zone. Its influence bleeds into the cracks of existence, twisting perception. What you saw was real, and yet it was shaped by your fear, your will, your light.”

Her voice softened, the machine’s hum syncing with her words. “We need to go back, Elvander. There’s more to uncover. The truth of what lies beneath.”

Elvander frowned, his hands balling into fists. “I just got out of there. You don’t know what it’s like, Ana. The cold, the dark—the way it plays with your mind. Those things… they’re not just monsters. They’re nightmares made flesh.”

Ana’s gaze didn’t waver. “And they’re a part of the truth you seek. You’ve touched the edge of something vast, something ancient. But to understand it, you have to face it fully.”

The room dimmed further, and the hum of the machine grew louder. Elvander felt a tug at the edges of his consciousness, a pull toward the depths he had barely escaped.

“Ana,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “If I go back, how do I stop it from swallowing me whole?”

She reached out, her hand hovering just above his. “You don’t stop it. You understand it. And in doing so, you find its weakness.”

The hum crescendoed, and the room seemed to dissolve around them. For a moment, Elvander glimpsed fragments of the labyrinthine corridors once more, their alien glyphs pulsing like beating hearts. He felt the icy chill of the creatures’ presence and the suffocating weight of the Choron Zone’s whispers.

But Ana’s voice anchored him. “You’re stronger than you think. And you’re not alone.”

As the vision faded, Elvander found himself back in the desert, the Pyramid still looming behind him. The sun burned fiercely overhead, but its warmth no longer felt comforting. It was a reminder of how fragile the light could be against the encroaching dark.

He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. Whatever lay beneath the sands, whatever the Choron Zone sought to protect—it wasn’t finished with him.

And neither, he realized, was he finished with it.

© Aiwaz, 2024. All rights reserved.