Different Dimension Squadron

Chapter Two (2) : Behind theVeil - Part One (1)

​​The hum of the pendant, that strange and silent cosmic lullaby, sings him into the depths. Sleep does not come in waves as it usually does, like a gentle tide slowly pulling him from the shores of consciousness. Instead, it is a sudden, vertical drop, a plummet from the waking world into an ocean of quiet strangeness. The familiar weight of his own body, the scratch of the bedsheets, the cool night air of Gran Bay on his skin—all of it is left behind on the surface, a distant memory of a life he was living only moments ago.

Without warning, he just came back here again. The sterile, expansive whiteness greets him not as much of a surprise this time, but as an inevitability, a destination it feels like he was always meant to return to. And in this oppressive emptiness, Sçoryn finds himself not with the lingering panic of his first visit, but with a weary, almost resigned sense of familiarity and relief …. At least I'm not crazy, well I don’t think. It is the feeling of returning to a recurring dream, perhaps a nightmare, whose geography you have already begun to map out in your soul.

But this time, it is different. The unnerving solitude is gone. There, standing directly in front of him, so close Sçoryn could reach out and touch him, is a boy who seems carved from the same uncertain reality as the pendant around his neck. He looks about his age, maybe a year or two younger/older, with a cascade of sleek, well mannered but strange hair that seems to defy a gravity that doesn’t exist here. His eyes however, though a bit unfocused, feel ancient. They burn with a fierce, unsettling intelligence, like twin embers fixed on Sçoryn with an unnerving intensity.

And he’s grinning, a wide, knowing grin, as if he’s been waiting all day for Sçoryn to finally show up to a party that only the two of them were invited to.

As the child—the boy—begins to walk towards him, the world, or the lack thereof, warps around the movement. The pendant, the very same one that is a ghostly, untouchable weight on Sçoryn’s own chest, hangs around the boy’s neck. But his, is no mere illusion. It appears solid, real, and terrifyingly far more active. It begins to rotate, slowly at first, then with accelerating speed, until it’s a blur of solidified night. A mist, thick and pearlescent like the inside of an abalone shell, pours from the spinning sphere, pooling around the boy’s feet and swirling up to his knees. It glows with a soft, hypnotizing light, a pulse of deep purples and blues, and it echoes with that strange, mesmerising hum that had been the last thing Sçoryn had heard before sleep had claimed him.

My own internal monologue, usually a chaotic symphony of anxieties and half-formed thoughts, grinds to a halt. The college student in me, the one who should just be worried about the Comm Studies midterms and what my friends think, is shoved unceremoniously aside by a more primal, instinctive self. The sight of this kid, this slowly approaching figure, triggers a fight-or-flight response so potent it makes my teeth ache from how hard I'm pressing them together. My eyes narrow, every muscle in my body tensing for a confrontation I have no hope of understanding these feelings.

I finally find my voice, and it comes out as a frantic, cracked exclamation. “Who the hell are you!?”

The boy stops, the glowing mist swirling around him following suit like a living thing. He tilts his head, his grin fading into a look of genuine contemplation, as if my question is the most fascinating puzzle he’s ever encountered.

“Strange,” he says, his voice a smooth, melodic tenor that feels jarringly out of place in this silent void. “I’m not certain who I am. Or where, exactly, I’m from to be honest with you.” He pauses, his gaze turning inward before pulling back suddenly. “But I do know why I’m here… amusing, it’s like I’m me, but not fully. Perhaps some of my memories are missing?… no, actually.” He looks back at me, his burning eyes locking onto mine while thinking to himself outloud. “Rather, it feels like pieces of myself have been placed behind several seals.”

“How odd,” I manage, the words feeling flimsy and inadequate. The situation is so far beyond ‘odd’ it’s lapped “ODD” several times truthfully.

“What are you even saying?” I blurt out, the dam of my confusion continually bursting forth. The sheer ludicrousness of it all crashes over me again, and I reach for the only explanation that makes a lick of sense. “I’m dreaming ….. again! That has to be it. That has to be what’s going on here. I must’ve eaten something really weird…. Shrooms maybe? or I’m just stressed about my paper, or…”

“Well, to be honest, you’re not completely incorrect,” the kid answers, cutting off my frantic spiral with infuriating calm. “But you’re not 100% right, either.” He takes another step closer, the mist following him like a loyal pet. “Your true body is indeed asleep right now, back in your room. But your innate breath, or more accurately, the part of it entwined with Solstyçt’s breath, is here.”

The name—Solstyçt—hangs in the non-air between us. It feels important, heavy with a meaning I can’t grasp, like a word from a language I once knew but have long since forgotten. It resonates with the same phantom familiarity as the name the star-faced being had called me. Sun.

“Okay, now I’m even more confused,” I reply, my voice flat with exasperation. “And where is ‘here,’ exactly?”

The boy’s grin returns, a flash of white in the endless expanse. “Well, welcome to Limbo, young one.”

Limbo. The word lands with a thud in the pit of my stomach. It’s a word I know from church, from stories, a place of waiting, of being caught between worlds. It fits this oppressive, I suppose it fits this featureless non-place all too well.

“You have many questions,” he continues, his tone shifting, becoming more serious, more focused. “As do I. But don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

“Help with what?” I ask, suspicion lacing every syllable.

“Remake what’s been unmade,” the boy answers, matter-of-factly, as if he’s telling me the time.

A beat of silence passes. The hum from his pendant seems to grow louder, filling the void. My mind is a blank slate, wiped clean by the sheer vague audacity of his statement. Remake what’s been unmade. It sounds like a line from one of the cliche poems on my Lit syllabus, not something a random kid in a dream-world says to you but there it was and here we are.

He must’ve seen the total incomprehension on my face because he raises a hand before I can even form my next question. “And before you ask, I myself am not entirely sure what that specifically means, or exactly what’s going on. The details are… hazy. Sealed, like I said. However, the answers we both seek lie behind the veil, on the other side of this, Limbo.” He gestures around us, at the suffocating, infinite white. “Now come along. Time is not our friend, and there is much to be done.”

He turns, expecting me to follow. That’s it. That’s the moment the fear and confusion curdle into pure, unadulterated annoyance. This kid, with his riddles and his glowing mist and his condescending calm, just expects me to fall in line like some lil b***h!

“Wait, what?” I scoff, the sound jarringly loud. “Follow you? I barely know you, my dude. Plus according to yourself, you don’t even know who you are.”

He stops and slowly turns his head, his gaze sharp enough to cut the tension in my body while melting away at my annoyance. The playful grin is gone, replaced by a flash of imperious authority that sends a shiver down my spine. “Shut up, clueless!” he snaps, the words cracking like a whip. “Now, Sit. Be still. Focus within yourself and find the damn path.”

The sheer intrepidness of it leaves me speechless for a second. “Brooo!, what path!?” I ask, my voice dripping with sarcasm and residual fear as I wave my hands at the featureless void around us. “There’s nothing here, in case you didn’t notice!”

“Exactly,” the boy answers flatly, his expression unreadable. “There’s indeed nothing here. So you’ve got nothing better to do, right?”

Well he’s got me there, I think to myself. The logic is so simple, so irrefutable, it unceremoniously knocks the wind out of my sails. I’m trapped in a place that is literally nothing. What else am I going to do? Argue with the only other person here? I let out a long, weary sigh, the fight draining out of me.

“Yeah… I guess,” I mumble, running a hand through my hair. “Whatever. But no promises.” I look him up and down. “By the way, my name is Sçoryn. What’s yours?”

He looks thoughtful again, a flicker of frustration crossing his features. “It’s weird. I know that I know it. But I just can’t… vocalize it. It’s like the sound itself is locked away.” He pauses. “Either way, you can call me Sçolyst for now.”

Sçolyst. It has the same rhythmic feel as Solstyçt. Brothers, maybe? Or two sides of the same coin? Another riddle to add to the pile.

“Alright, well… here goes nothing,” I say, mostly to myself.

I sit down, crossing my legs in the same meditative pose from my first visit to this place. It feels less intuitive this time, more like a conscious act of surrender. At first my thoughts keep racing and I just can't seem to recreate that initial experience, it just feels dumb like I'm trying to make the impossible happen. For the next however long (the concept of time doesn’t seem to apply here, at least not in a conventional sense) the most random stupid just keep popping up and disappearing from my head, as I remain in my usual default state of mind…darting between five browsers, an unnatural amount of active and inactive tabs all firing simultaneously with thoughts interconnects by linking properties only my warped subconscious could justify (I think I’m hungry?, but can hunger exist in this place? I could go for some curried rabbit right now to be honest, where would I even get that though? Might get me out of whatever s**t is going on right now…wait what was I thinking about, ah boii and my test later, wait does that even still exist and for god’s sake where is that music coming from … I thought nothing existed here … and …

“PAWWWHH”

Then out of nowhere my cheeks feel red hot and swollen? What the hell just happened…I opened my eyes, greeted immediately by a death stare that rattled me to my very core, his face so close that I could feel his warm breath against my nose and that freakish aura swirling all about me.

Stop wasting our damn time and get your s**t together. After a moment of shock, confusion and a bit of shame I stare back indignantly

“Well if you’ve got actual instructions I can understand and follow. I'm all ears buddy.”

“Like who the hell are you to slap and berate me!