Terror seized John as the fall consumed him, the world shrinking beneath his feet. The wind roared in his ears. His chest tightened. But just before the impact—before his body could shatter against the ground—reality itself split apart.
The air cracked.
The space around him fractured like glass struck by a hammer.
And then, darkness.
He was nowhere.
Suspended in a strange void, weightless and lost, he drifted through a sea of swirling color and shapeless light. The passage of time no longer made sense—it stretched and folded, moving both too quickly and agonizingly slow.
Then, without warning, a blinding golden light pierced the void.
John blinked.
He stood upright, suddenly solid, in a place of stark brilliance. The sky—if there was a sky—was a white sheet of static light, and the air buzzed with a strange hum. And in his hand...
A stone.
It pulsed with golden energy, warm and alive. He hadn't picked it up. Hadn't seen it appear. But it was there—part of him, as if it had always been.
"What are you?" John whispered, clutching it tight.
The stone gave no answer. Then, as if it had heard him, it floated free from his palm, rising toward a sliver of blue sky in the distance.
Compelled, not knowing why, John leapt after it.
He landed with a thud in a world that was not his own.
Towering metallic structures loomed around him—angular, humming, lit by an artificial light that felt more interrogation lamp than sunlight. The air was thick, electric.
His eyes were immediately drawn to a sudden burst of violence nearby.
The stone—his stone—had moved again. It hovered in front of a tall man with wild white hair and a long coat, before striking him with a flash of golden energy. The man screamed, collapsing to his knees. Another figure stood a few feet away, watching. Unmoving. Unfeeling.
John's heart raced. What is this place? What is this thing?
But survival kicked in.
He turned away from the scene, ignoring the chaos. "This stone," he muttered, breathless. "It's jumping. Moving without me."
He left it behind, near the injured man, and ran.
Luna, he thought desperately. I just want to go back to my sister.
"My life is a mess," he whispered into the empty air, feet pounding against the pavement. "I don't understand any of this."
But the stone—mocking, relentless—appeared in his path again, hovering inches from his chest.
John stumbled to a stop, eyes wide. "Who are you?!" he shouted. "Why won't you leave me alone?!"
The stone didn't speak aloud, but its voice pulsed in his mind, low and resonant.
"I know how much you love your sister, John," it said. "I've seen it in your thoughts."
John's breath hitched. "You… you can read minds?"
"Yours. And His," it added, its energy flickering as it glanced toward the wounded white-haired man. "Idiot."
Then, slowly, the stone floated back into John's hand. It nestled there, thrumming softly.
"Will you take me back?" he asked. "Back to her?"
"I have work to do," it said. "Then, I will return you."
John gripped the stone tighter, holding it like a lifeline. Just as he began to relax, just as the air grew still—
—a figure emerged before him. John couldn't make out the details, only a dark silhouette against the light.
Before he could speak, the spatial rift opened, dragging him into the swirling chaos once more.
He landed again in the world of light.
And the violence resumed.
The stone surged out of his hand and struck the white-haired man again, this time in the chest. The force of the impact sent the man sprawling. His scream rang out louder than before, raw with agony.
The impassive figure remained standing by, watching the man's agonizing demise.
Watching.
Silent.
The white-haired man's body began to disintegrate—not in blood or flame, but in shimmering fragments, like glass melting into light. From within his broken form, a single shard—crystalline and sharp—lifted into the air.
It hovered for a moment.
Then, like a puzzle piece snapping into place, it merged with the stone.
A ripple passed through it.
The jagged, incomplete object reshaped itself. Its fractured edges smoothed. Its light grew brighter. The once-star-like core became a perfect golden sphere.
The stone pulsed, whole again.
"John, I can read your thoughts," it said, the voice inside his mind clearer than ever.
John staggered back. "Stop," he whispered. "Stop this…"
"And his," the stone added, turning to the fading remains of the white-haired man.
Then, in a single motion, the stone leapt into John's hand.
There was no choice this time. No space for resistance.
A flash.
A rush.
And then silence.
John vanished.
Leaving the strange, light-filled place, and the Old Man behind.