If Alyra Voss had to rank the worst things that could happen on a Tuesday evening, spontaneous skin mutations were definitely in the top three.
Possibly top one.
She was halfway through reheating leftover noodles again when the first line appeared.
At first, she thought it was a trick of the light.
The kitchen bulb had been flickering all week, and the apartment itself looked like it had given up on life sometime around 2008. So when a thin crimson thread shimmered faintly across the inside of her left wrist, Alyra did what any reasonable person would do.
She ignored it.
For a full twelve seconds.
Then the line moved.
Alyra froze, chopsticks halfway to her mouth.
"…Nope."
The word came out flat, automatic. The kind of calm denial that only happened when her brain hadn't fully caught up to the problem yet.
She slowly set the chopsticks down.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Like the universe might take offense if she moved too fast.
The mark was still there.
Not ink. Not a scratch. Not a trick of the light.
It looked… embedded. Like something beneath her skin was glowing very politely and waiting to be noticed.
"Well," Alyra muttered under her breath, "that's deeply concerning."
The line pulsed.
Once.
Soft. Alive. Wrong.
Alyra stood very still.
Outwardly, she looked composed shoulders relaxed, expression neutral, breathing steady.
Internally, however, her thoughts were doing laps at Olympic speed.
Okay. Okay. Options.
One: I'm hallucinating.
Possible. Not great, but possible.
Two: rare medical condition.
Also bad. Slightly more socially acceptable.
Three…
She stared at the slowly spreading crimson pattern inching toward her palm.
"…I have been chosen by something deeply questionable. like in the movies."
Yeah. She didn't love option three.
From the living room, the television droned loudly one of her parents' nightly crime shows. The volume was high enough to rattle the thin apartment walls.
Normal.
Everything sounded annoyingly, aggressively normal.
Which made the glowing thing under her skin feel even more unreal.
Alyra turned her wrist slowly under the kitchen light.
The mark had grown.
What had been a single thin line was now branching delicate, geometric fractures creeping outward like frost on glass. Beautiful in a way that made the back of her neck prickle.
"…You better not be contagious," she murmured.
The mark pulsed again.
Stronger this time.
A sharp heat followed it not quite pain, but enough to make her jaw tighten.
Okay.
New entry for worst Tuesday experiences.
She grabbed her phone from the counter, already pulling up the search bar.
red glowing lines under skin not dying
She stared at the results.
…Skin irritation.
…Allergic reaction.
…Questionable forum posts involving aliens.
Alyra exhaled slowly through her nose.
"Fantastic. Very helpful. Love the scientific community."
Another pulse.
This one sharper.
The crimson fractures spread another few centimeters up her arm.
That was new.
That was very new.
Her calm cracked just a little.
"…Okay. We're escalating."
Alyra pushed away from the counter, rolling her sleeve higher. The pattern was unmistakable now not random, not organic.
Structured.
Fractal.
Like something was drawing itself into existence beneath her skin.
And it wasn't stopping.
For the first time, unease settled properly in her chest.
Not panic she didn't panic easily.
But something colder.
More alert.
Because whatever this was…
…it wasn't normal.
The apartment lights flickered.
Once.
Alyra's head snapped up.
The air felt… off.
Pressure built quietly in the room, like the moment before a storm breaks subtle enough that most people might miss it.
She didn't.
The mark on her arm burned.
Hard.
Alyra sucked in a sharp breath, fingers tightening reflexively around her wrist.
"…Okay," she said slowly, voice much calmer than she felt, "now we are officially having a problem."
Behind her....
Something cracked.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a soft, wrong sound.
Like glass under too much pressure.
Alyra turned.
And the world… bent.
Right there in the middle of the kitchen floor, the air folded inward space warping like heat haze, except darker. Thicker. Wrong in ways her brain struggled to process.
A pinpoint of black appeared.
Small.
Silent.
Hungry.
Alyra stared at it.
"…You have got to be kidding me."
The black point expanded.
Fast.
The floor beneath it splintered with a sharp, violent crack.
Wind roared inward.
Everything loose in the kitchen papers, utensils, the very air itself lurched toward the growing void.
Alyra moved on instinct.
One step back.
Too slow.
The pull hit her full force.
Her hand shot out, grabbing the counter edge knuckles whitening instantly as the suction dragged at her clothes, her hair, her
Her arm burned.
The crimson fractal blazed bright.
For half a second, something inside her chest dropped cold.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Oh.
That was her last coherent thought.
The counter ripped free from her grip.
The floor vanished beneath her feet.
And the darkness swallowed Alyra Voss whole.