By the time he opened his eyes, the world was already burning.
Evan didn't know where he was. Only that everything around him—sky, ground, air—was shaking like a dying beast.
Buildings he couldn't recognize stood crooked, half-melted, as if time itself had taken a bite out of them. Shadows crawled on the walls like living ink. And somewhere in the distance… someone screamed.
His vision blurred, swimming in red.
Red on the ground.
Red in the sky.
Red dripping from his eyelashes.
No… not dripping.
Flowing. From his eyes.
He tried to breathe but the air tasted metallic. Something warm trickled down his cheek, and when he touched it—
Blood.
His own.
"What… is this place…?"
His voice cracked, stolen by the roaring wind.
A silhouette broke through the smoke. A man—giant, armored in something that didn't look like metal—lifted Evan like he weighed nothing.
"You shouldn't be awake," the man growled. His voice rumbled like thunder. "The fracture hasn't stabilized. Close your eyes, kid."
Evan wanted to ask who he was.
What fracture?
Why was the world ending?
But the man's face flickered—like a bad signal—as if he wasn't truly there.
The world twisted.
The ground sank.
And the sky cracked open in white light.
Evan fell.
He fell—
And landed back-first onto something soft.
His bed.
His room.
His alarm screaming at full volume.
For a long moment, he didn't move.
The ceiling didn't shake.
The air didn't burn.
His sheets smelled like detergent, not smoke.
He was… home.
It was just a dream.
But then he touched his face.
His fingers came back red.
---