Darkness covered the universe. A world that had lived past its lifespan was about to meet its demise.
Its edges converged to the centre, waiting to reunite once again to start another cycle.
Silence reigned, broken only by a low, resonant hum, the last breaths of a reality too vast to mourn and with no stars left to shine, their light a legend of stories, swallowed by gravity that devoured without mercy.
Space collapsed on itself, each fracture a wound bleeding into oblivion, a testament to a cosmos that had once burned with limitless potential.
In this dying reality, something mourned with a raw, primal ache.
It wasn't human; it wasn't anything a mortal mind could begin to understand.
It was desperation in the form of a fleeting pulse, a will that wasn't supposed to care but at its last moment began to feel just a little, care enough to go against causality itself and the absolute law of the world.
The presence lingered, formless yet unyielding, struggling against the collapse with all its might, the last remnant of something that stood above all, all that could have been, too stubborn to fade without one last defiance.
"This is far too cruel to be called an ending."
The thought rippled through the dark, collapsing cosmos filled with sorrow older than time.
A memory of the world ablaze with countless stars burning brightly, and life thriving under their grace with cities of shimmering crystal, skies threaded with starlight, voices laughing and weeping in harmony now reduced to cinders.
The will clung to the converging force, defiant, as if its refusal to accept reality could stop the inevitable.
But causality pressed in, relentless, erasing the last echoes of what had been.
The cycle continued, as it always had, crushing creation beneath its weight.
In another corner of this dying world some figures used this moment of struggle as their last hope and carved a path through the destruction.
Piercing through the heavens, a river of power like a tsunami went right through the world when it was weakened, and with it so did those beings, with a last hope in their minds, a last struggle against the inevitable, the last will that would not bow.
The will struggling against the end started to falter as the force pressing down against it kept going up with no end.
At last, even that unyielding being faded against the absolute. All that remained was silence, heavy and lonely, burying the remnants of the dying world with it.
The universe exhaled one last time, and then it was gone.
I jolted awake, breath ragged, heart pounding against my ribs.
My cheek peeled off my arm, draped in sweat, still pressed on the desk where I had collapsed.
The room hummed quietly with the noise of my computer's fan stirring like a distant storm, making me realise what I was doing before falling asleep.
I looked at the monitor in front of me, squinting my eyes due to the sudden bombardment of light.
Text finally came into focus after a few seconds as it swam through the fog of exhaustion clinging to me.
"Ascension's Path"
My game. My dream.
The title glowed on the screen, still half-finished after months of code, sleepless nights, and a gnawing need to complete it that I couldn't name.
I rubbed my temples, fingers trembling slightly, trying to let go of the dream that wrapped around my head like a swamp.
A voice that wasn't really a voice, pulsing across an incomprehensible distance across vast space.
The weight in my chest felt heavy and hollow, like I'd let something slip something I was meant to save.
"Ethan, you are drooling again."
Claire's voice cleared away some of the cloudy thoughts in my head, cheerful and teasing. She leaned against my desk, arms crossed, her smirk a bright light in the dim office.
Her black hair cascaded down one shoulder, catching the screen's glow; her hazel eyes glinted with a familiar mix of mischief and concern.
She'd been my shore through this flood of life and my best friend since college, the one who dragged me out of the dorm room with coffee, sarcasm, and the occasional late-night pizza. Without her, I might have burned out long ago.
"Falling asleep on your dream project?" she said, tilting her head, eyeing me like she could see deep inside me.
"Wouldn't want the lead dev to go sleeping forever just because he overworked himself to death."
I managed a weak laugh, rubbing a hand across my face.
"Yeah, just… five more minutes. I'll get it together." My voice sounded thin, weak near the end, like I wasn't in the right mind.
The dream still knocked at me in my head, lost in the moment of that entity trying to resist something, the complete silence left after what seemed like a failure, and that being's last words.
It wasn't just fatigue. It felt like a splinter lodged in my mind, a guilt I couldn't place almost as if it was my fault.
I'd had weird dreams before, stress-induced nonsense about missed deadlines or buggy builds but this was different. This felt personal.
Claire arched a brow, her smirk fading as she leaned closer, voice softening. "You okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or at least a really bad compile error.
Did you have a bad dream or something, huh?"
"Maybe I have," I muttered, half-joking, meeting her gaze for a second. I leaned back in my chair, the worn leather creaking under me, and stared at the ceiling.
The office was a graveyard of empty coffee cups, crumpled notes, and flickering fluorescent lights, the clock ticking past 2 a.m.
A faint sting pulsed behind my eyes, too many hours staring at screens, too little sleep.
I should've been debugging the latest build and tweaking the combat system, balancing the skill mechanics, making sure the character AI didn't glitch out again, but my hands stayed still, hovering over the keyboard. "Just a weird dream. Nothing big."
"Nuh-uh." She didn't buy it, I could tell from the way she shifted, resting her hip against the desk, her eyes narrowing like she'd pry me open.
"Spill it, then. What was it? Masked clowns? Falling off a cliff? Or did Alaric Thorne finally rise from the grave to tell you your dialogue for him are too edgy?"
I snorted, glancing at the screen. Alaric Thorne, my creation, the youngest headmaster in the long history of Arcania Academy in the game's lore.
I stared at him, visible on the monitor's screen. Tall, sharp-featured, with eyes like storm clouds and a presence that commanded silence.
A man who'd risen to power through sheer will and talent, only to be murdered by cultists serving forces beyond comprehension, but not before plunging the world into the age of power by opening the gate to the higher dimension of Drigonia.
His death was hardcoded into the prologue, a brutal, inevitable end I'd written late one night after a fight with Claire over pizza toppings.
I'd poured too much of myself into him, my stubbornness, my quiet rage, maybe even the part of me that felt like I was always one step from failing.
Fitting, I guess, for a guy like me to craft a tragedy.
"It was… worse than that," I said to her, voice low. "A world dying. Everything fading out, one by one.
One voice saying things I couldn't comprehend, while trying to resist a force, some figures in a different place using that moment to leave somewhere."
I shook my head, the words sounding absurd aloud, but they carried a weight I couldn't shake.
"Probably just stress. Or too much caffeine. Or perhaps both."
Claire frowned, her fingers tapping idly on the desk, her gaze lingering a beat too long. "Sounds like a cutscene straight out of 'Ascension's Path'. "
Maybe you're overcooking that brain of yours. You've been at this for, what, three days straight? Four?" She paused, glaring at the mess of energy drink cans around my desk. "You're gonna crash hard if you keep this up."
"Something like that." I forced a grin, but it didn't reach my eyes.
The dream clung too tightly, too real, too urgent, a failure I couldn't name.
I turned back to the screen, made some final checks, and saved the data. "Let's call it quits for today."
"About time," Claire said, grabbing her jacket with a grin that softened her edges.
"C'mon, I'll walk you out. You'll trip over your own feet otherwise and I'm not carrying you home."
I nodded, powering down the computer. The fan's hum faded, lights dimming as I grabbed my coat. I paused, staring at the blank screen, "Ascension's Path" still ringing in my head as I followed her.
The office felt empty, shadows pooling under flickering bulbs, the air thick with the smell of coffee and stale energy drinks.
Her footsteps echoed with mine, a steady beat I'd leaned on for too long.
She pushed the exit open, and cool night air hit my face, sharp and crisp, waking me up a little. Outside, the city hummed low, no traffic visible at almost midnight, streetlights casting a dull glow over the main road.
"Remember when you spilled coffee on my laptop?" Claire teased, nudging me as we stepped onto the sidewalk. "Freshman year. Nearly killed my midterm."
"Yeah, and you still passed," I shot back, a faint smile breaking through. "Due to my help."
"More like my backups," she laughed, her voice cutting through the eerie silence of midnight, a neon sign buzzing down the block.
She zipped her jacket, breath fogging in the cold air. "You still owe me, Ethan. Eight years of debts stacking up."
"Pizza, I'll settle it," I said, falling into step beside her.
The street stretched illuminated under orange lights, storefronts dark.
Claire hummed an off-key tune from our college days, something we'd played too loud back when life was simpler.
It pulled me from the dream's grip, that weight I'd let fall.
My hands dug into my pockets, the cold biting my fingers.
The pavement was rough under my shoes, a few cracks catching my steps as we went.
We walked a block, her shoulder brushing mine every few steps, close in a way that felt different tonight. I glanced at her, hair catching the light, eyes bright despite the late hour, my chest tightened, not from the dream this time.
Eight years of her mocking my bad code, dragging me through late nights with takeout, staying when I didn't deserve it.
Last month, she'd sat with me until dawn, fixing a crash I couldn't figure out alone, her laugh lighting up the dark.
That's when it hit me again like it always did, friend wasn't enough.
I could see it: a ring in my hand, her smirk as I tripped over the words, her saying yes or maybe laughing, calling me an idiot. Either way, I'd be okay with it.
My throat tightened, nerves I wasn't used to creeping up.
But not yet, "Ascension's Path" was months from launch, my chance to prove I wasn't just a burnout.
If it failed, I'd have nothing to offer, no ground to stand on.
I'll wait until it ships, until I could look at her and say, "This is me, worth something." If it didn't flop first.
Doubt chewed at me, but I pushed it down. Soon.
The wind picked up a little, rustling her hair, and I watched it settle as we kept walking, her faint hum wrapping around us.
"Hey, Ethan," Claire said, elbowing me slightly. She stopped at the corner, hands on hips, smirking at me.
"You're drifting again. What's in there? more dying worlds?"
"Just tired," I said, stepping beside her.
The crosswalk stretched ahead, dim under the streetlight, empty this late. "Long day."
"Long life," she quipped, walking across. Her sneakers scuffed the asphalt, a soft sound in the stillness.
"You're buying coffee tomorrow, penance for drooling on the desk.
"Deal," I said, following a step behind. The air felt heavier, the silence settling between our footsteps.
I watched her, profile sharp, smile easy, jacket swaying as she walked and that need hit again. "Tell her." It rose up, tight in my chest, but I swallowed it.
A low hum cut through the quiet night, not the dream's, but real, faint at first, growing louder. I frowned, looking around, the street empty except for us.
Claire kept going, a few steps ahead, then turned halfway, grinning. "Think they'll care if we skip the next meeting? I could use a nap."
"Doubt it," I said, but the hum got deeper, a mechanical rumble, closer now. My stomach twisted, eyes scanning the dark. Nothing yet. "Claire, you hear that?"
She paused, tilting her head, still smiling a little. "Hear what? Are you imagining things now?" Her voice was light, teasing, but she stopped walking, looking back at me.
A flicker, headlights blinked on at the end of the street, twin beams starting small, then instantly growing, cutting through the night.
Tires scraped the pavement, a low whine building up, steady and heavy. Claire turned toward it, her grin fading as the light reached us, catching the edge of her jacket.
"Ethan?" she said, desperate, frightened.
The whine turned sharp, a screech rising fast, and the beams flared, bright, harsh, washing out the street. Her hair lifted in the rush of air, her eyes went wide, her voice broke on "Ethan—!" as I moved.
I lunged, heart pounding hard, the roar filling my ears, drowning her out, drowning everything.
My hand stretched out, fingers brushing hers, just a second of warmth before she pulled back, startled.
Silver flashed, a car speeding toward us, tires screaming against the road. The air suddenly smelled of burnt rubber, thick and bitter.
"Claire—I should've said it," I thought, her eyes locked on mine, wide and scared in that last moment, as in a split second the car struck.