Sleep no longer brought Ethan peace.
Each night since the grove, his dreams filled with storms and shadows, with the faceless presence looming over ruined skies. He woke trembling, breath ragged, the whisper of infinity still clawing at the edges of his thoughts. The stone never slept. It pulsed faintly on his desk, sometimes bright enough to cast red veins of light across the room.
By day, he carried it in his pocket, as though keeping it close would keep the world from unraveling. But the longer it stayed with him, the heavier it became—not in weight, but in consequence. The Red Stone was no ordinary relic; it was a fragment of something older, deeper than the earth itself. It had chosen him, but Ethan began to wonder if "choice" was a word that belonged to it at all
At school, the whispers followed him. He would be sitting in class, and suddenly the world around him dulled into silence, the words of his teachers stretching into meaningless echoes. In that silence, a single phrase would creep into his mind:
Give it back.
Sometimes it was louder. Sometimes it came with visions—faces melting into shadow, lockers stretching into endless corridors, the ceiling tearing away to reveal an ocean of stars bleeding red.
Ethan kept his head down, pressing his palms against the desk until his knuckles whitened. He could not tell anyone. Who would believe him? Who would understand that the weight he carried was not metaphor, not the usual struggles of a broken teenager, but the literal burden of something infinite trying to claw its way through his chest?
He thought of telling his father once. The words almost slipped from his lips over dinner when the silence between them became unbearable. But his father, exhausted from work, barely touched his food, eyes fixed on the flickering television. Ethan swallowed the truth like glass, and the moment passed.
He was alone
It happened three days later.
The bullies had grown bolder, perhaps sensing that something in Ethan had shifted. Travis and his friends cornered him behind the gym, where the concrete walls echoed with every cruel laugh.
"Still staring, freak?" Travis sneered, shoving him against the wall. The others circled like vultures, eager for the spectacle. "Thought you could scare me with that little glare of yours? Do it again. Make the lights flicker, huh? Let's see it."
Ethan's chest tightened. He had tried to ignore them, to keep the stone's hum buried, but it was stirring again, hot and restless. His vision blurred, and when it cleared, the world had sharpened into unbearable clarity.
He saw the pulse of Travis's heartbeat in his neck. He felt the faint tremor of the ground beneath their feet, every grain of sand vibrating with hidden energy. He smelled the iron tang of blood, not yet spilled but waiting.
"Do it," Travis growled, pressing closer. "Or I'll—"
The hum inside Ethan broke free.
The air thickened, a low vibration rattling the walls. The other boys froze, their laughter caught in their throats. A crimson glow seeped from Ethan's clenched fist, faint but unmistakable. His eyes burned, reflecting the same red fire.
Travis staggered back, his face pale. "What the hell—"
Ethan gasped, shoving the power back down, forcing the glow to fade. The hum retreated, leaving him trembling, drenched in sweat.
The silence that followed was worse than the jeers. The boys exchanged looks, unease twisting their smirks into something else—fear. They muttered curses, then scattered, leaving Travis staring at Ethan as though he were something monstrous.
Ethan slid down the wall, his breath ragged. The stone pulsed in his pocket, satisfied.
That night, the whispers grew violent.
He dreamed of fire spreading through the city, buildings collapsing into ash. At the center of the destruction stood the infinite figure, faceless and vast, its shadow swallowing every flame. Ethan tried to run, but his legs were bound by chains of red light.
"You cannot fight me," the voice thundered in his mind. "The stone is mine. You are a vessel, nothing more. A cracked jar spilling power it cannot contain."
Ethan screamed, his throat raw. "Then why didn't you take it? Why didn't it choose you?"
The figure leaned close, darkness spilling from its form like smoke. "Because it is defiance itself. And you are broken enough to carry defiance until it rots you from within."
The ground split. Ethan fell, plunging into endless red fire.
He woke with a strangled cry, chest heaving. The stone blazed on his desk, brighter than ever, its glow painting the room in shifting scarlet.
For the first time, Ethan hated it.
Days blurred. Ethan withdrew further, speaking little, drifting through hallways like a shadow. The whispers stalked him relentlessly. Sometimes they spoke in his own voice, mocking, accusing. Sometimes they were the infinite villain's, promising annihilation.
And sometimes—sometimes—they were softer. Urging him to resist, to fight, to endure.
He didn't know which were true.
The power inside him continued to grow, and with it, the burden. He could calm a shivering animal, make the lights tremble, even feel the thoughts of others brush faintly against his own. But he could not control it. Every slip of emotion, every spike of fear or anger, risked unleashing something he didn't understand.
It wasn't a gift. It was a fire eating him alive.
The first real test came on a Thursday evening.
Ethan was walking home when he heard the scream. It cut through the rain, sharp and desperate, from the alley near the grocery store. He froze. His heart thundered. He should keep walking. He was nobody. This wasn't his fight.
But the stone pulsed, pulling him forward.
In the alley, he saw a man pinning a woman against the wall, his hand over her mouth, his other arm raised threateningly. Her eyes were wide with terror.
"Shut up," the man snarled.
Ethan's body moved before his mind could argue. "Stop!"
The man turned, fury twisting his face. "Get lost, kid."
Ethan trembled. His fists clenched. The hum surged, hot and alive. "Let her go."
The man stepped closer, looming. "Or what?"
The stone answered for him.
A crimson wave rippled outward, slamming the man against the opposite wall. He cried out, crumpling to the ground. Sparks crackled in the air, the scent of scorched metal filling the alley.
The woman stumbled free, eyes wide. She whispered a breathless "Thank you," then ran.
Ethan stood frozen, his chest heaving, the glow fading from his hands. The man groaned on the ground, alive but stunned.
Ethan turned and fled into the rain
That night, he could not sleep. The stone pulsed endlessly, and the whispers swirled.
You saved her.
You revealed yourself.
Now he knows where you are.
Ethan's blood turned cold. "Who?" he whispered into the darkness.
The answer came like a thunderclap inside his skull
The Infinite.
Ethan stumbled to the window. The storm outside raged, lightning splitting the sky. For a heartbeat, in the crack of light, he saw it—the figure—far off across the city skyline, towering over the buildings like a shadow carved into the storm. Watching.
He staggered back, heart pounding. It wasn't a dream this time.
The war had already found him.
And the world had no idea.