The wind did not blow, yet the trees still swayed as if shivering. The light here did not come from the sun, but seemed to be distilled from ruptured veins deep beneath the earth — a dim, red light that breathed like a dying creature. Mira and Elen stood at the final edge of the Blood Dusk Continent — behind them were towns, academies, things that could still be called "reality." Ahead was something no one could name.
A fracture split the ground, deep enough to pierce consciousness itself. On the other side was the Black Continent. No map could chart it, no returnee could describe it. But it was there, like a massive wound that would never close.
"It... it's looking at me." Mira gasped, eyes wide, irises trembling. There was nothing before them — or rather, nothing describable. The air seeping from the Black Continent flowed like a liquid consciousness, crawling into every pore. It smelled of iron, rotting flesh, and dreams that had been cut in half.
Elen didn't answer. He was shaking, not from fear — but because his body was changing. Veins rose beneath his skin like tiny snakes trying to escape. Blood sprayed from his ears, the corners of his eyes, the spaces between his fingers.
The first curse — the Black Continent's rejection of all things called "alive." Every step was a negotiation between existence and will.
"If we can't adapt… we'll be discarded," Mira whispered. She sat down, breathing through her mouth. The air here stabbed her throat like a thousand tiny needles with each inhale. Her chest heaved; each cough expelled frothing blood.
Before them, the rocks refused to remain still. Their shapes shifted with every glance — sometimes resembling crying human faces, sometimes conjoined infants indistinguishable by head or limb. Something slithered across the ground. It had no legs, yet each glide left behind a trail of smoldering blood. On its back was the face of a child — still smiling.
"Elen… look." Mira pointed to a cliff wall ahead. Upon it were hundreds of handprints carved into the stone, as if people had tried to climb but were absorbed instead. Blood seeped from the cracks, soaking the stone, making each slab pulse like it was growing veins.
Elen dropped to his knees, gasping. "It feels like I'm being peeled… from the inside. Mira… do you hear them whispering?"
Mira didn't answer. She was staring at a creature in the distance. It moved in no discernible way — no legs, no wings, no fixed form. Just hundreds of eyes and mouths. Some of them were singing. It was a song without sound, only vibration — but it cut straight to the bone.
Around the creature, space warped and melted.
"Don't look too long," Elen said, voice choking. One of his eyes turned pitch black, the pupil swelling like a fungus. "I… I can hear it whispering in my head. It's telling me not to go back. It says… 'This is home.'"
"No!" Mira shouted, grabbing Elen's hand. She bit her lip until it split, trying to stay conscious. "We've come this far. We can't be killed by the first hallucinations. Breathe, Elen. Breathe and imagine… the smell of fields, of sunlight, of the village."
The air still cut their lungs like blades. Blood continued to ooze from the holes in their bodies. But slowly, Mira stood. She looked ahead — the sky was made of billions of shattered mirrors. What it reflected was not the ground, but the memories of those who had entered. For a moment, Mira saw herself — bald, eyeless, singing a song in a language she had never learned.
She turned away. "We have to keep walking. Stay too long, and we'll become part of this place."
Elen nodded weakly. "Mira… I see something. Ahead, there's… something like a door. But it doesn't stay still. Every blink, it changes shape."
"We don't need to understand. We just need to move. That's the only truth here."
They walked on. The ground beneath their feet was soft like flesh. Every step drew a faint moan from below. The air still forbade deep breaths. Their bodies still bled. But with each step, they began to feel… something familiar. As if they had died and were born again from this very land.
And the Black Continent… seemed to smile. No sound came. But the shadows drifting by, the twisted faces in the stone — all were grinning.
Welcome home.