Daniel always felt that the sky was too small.
Not physically small — it stretched forever, blue in the day, endless black at night — but wrong. Like a ceiling painted to look like infinity. Like something vast was hidden just behind it.
He stood outside his apartment building, hands in his pockets, the cool night air brushing his face. The city buzzed around him — distant traffic, music from a passing car, people laughing somewhere down the street.
Normal sounds. Normal world.
But his mind wasn't there.
It never fully was.
There has to be more than this, he thought, staring upward. There has to be something beyond all this noise and routine and limits.
A drop of rain hit his cheek.
He blinked.
Another drop fell… then another.
Within seconds, the streetlights reflected on the wet pavement, turning the road into rivers of gold and white. People hurried past him, pulling up hoods, running for cover.
Daniel didn't move.
He liked the rain. It made the world quieter.
A car sped by.
Then—
It stopped.
Not slowed.
Stopped.
Mid-motion.
Daniel frowned.
The raindrops weren't hitting the ground anymore.
They hung in the air. Perfect spheres. Frozen.
The music from the car ahead cut off in the middle of a beat.
A man across the street stood with one foot off the ground, never finishing his step.
Daniel's breath caught.
"…Hello?"
No wind.
No sound.
The entire world had turned into a photograph.
His heart began to pound, the sound loud in his ears — the only thing moving in existence.
"This isn't real," he whispered. "I'm dreaming."
But he could feel the cold rain suspended against his skin. He could feel his pulse racing.
Then the sky split open.
A thin line of light appeared above him — stretching across the darkness like a crack in glass. It widened slowly, silently, revealing something behind it that made his knees weaken.
It wasn't sky.
It was space.
But not the space he knew.
Galaxies spiraled in colors he had no names for. Stars burned like living eyes. Vast structures of light stretched across infinity like cosmic architecture.
Daniel stumbled backward, his mind refusing to understand what he was seeing.
A voice spoke.
Not through his ears.
Inside everything.
"A Creator has fallen."
The words vibrated through his bones.
"The Seat of Genesis stands empty."
A pressure filled his chest, as if his heart had turned into a star trying to ignite.
"Stop…" he gasped, falling to his knees. "Please—"
"Successor located."
The crack in the sky focused into a beam of white-gold light that shot down and struck him.
Pain exploded through his body.
He screamed.
Symbols — shapes he had seen in dreams since childhood — burned into his chest beneath his skin, glowing through his shirt.
"Daniel."
The voice softened, yet felt heavier than worlds.
"Creation answers you now."
Light swallowed everything.
Then—
Sound returned.
Rain fell.
Cars moved.
People ran.
The world continued like nothing had happened.
Daniel lay on the wet pavement, shaking, breath ragged. No one looked at him. No one stopped.
It was as if reality had erased the moment.
Slowly, he pressed a hand to his chest.
Warm.
Pulsing.
He could feel something there.
Something vast.
Something awake.
Above him, the sky looked normal again.
But Daniel knew the truth now.
The ceiling of the world had cracked.
And something on the other side had chosen him.