Chapter 2: When the Sky Shatters

The first thing I feel is pain.

A crushing weight slams into my chest, forcing the air from my lungs. My body screams as if I've been hurled against something solid.

My head spins. My vision blurs.

And then—I hear it.

A sound that doesn't belong.

A low, guttural distortion—like a broken radio transmission, glitching between incomprehensible frequencies.

I'm not alone.

Something else is in the room.

I gasp, rolling onto my side. My arms tremble as I push myself up. My bedroom is still there—but not completely.

The walls ripple like liquid, distorting at the edges, stretching and twisting into themselves. The furniture flickers, as if shifting between different versions of reality, textures peeling away into nothingness.

The only thing that remains solid is the floor beneath me.

And standing between me and the door—

It.

The sight of it sends pure instinctual terror through my body.

Too tall. Too wrong.

Its limbs hang loosely, as if it barely remembers how to hold itself together. Its head tilts unnaturally, stretching its neck too far in one direction.

No eyes.No face.No breath.

Just a shifting void in the rough outline of a body—like a tear in reality itself.

And it's looking at me.

Or at least, it feels like it is.

My muscles lock up, my heartbeat pounds in my skull. I can't move.

It twitches. Then—glitches forward.

MOVE.

My body reacts before my brain can process it.

I lunge backward, scrambling across the floor.

The creature jerks forward in a single, broken motion—like reality itself is struggling to keep up with it.

Too fast.

I bolt for the hallway, slamming the door shut behind me.

BANG.

The impact rattles my bones.

The entire door buckles inward, wood splintering as if something just tried to punch a hole through it.

BANG.

Another hit—harder.

The frame warps, bending at impossible angles.

I stumble backward, my pulse hammering in my ears.

I have to get out.

The kitchen.

I turn and sprint down the hallway. The walls seem to breathe, the air thick with something I can't see.

The sirens outside are still wailing—but something is wrong with them. The sound skips in places, looping, like an old record stuck on repeat.

The world isn't breaking.

It's being erased.

I reach the kitchen, nearly slamming into the counter.

A weapon. I need a weapon.

My fingers fly to the knife rack. The biggest blade—a chef's knife—gleams under the flickering kitchen light.

I grip it tight, my breathing ragged.

Then—

A skittering noise.

My blood runs cold.

I spin around—

Just in time.

The creature lunges through the hallway, limbs snapping in unnatural angles, moving like it's trying to remember how a body should work.

I swing.

The knife slashes through its form—

No resistance.

No flesh. No bone.

Nothing.

Yet—

It reacts.

It jerks back, convulsing, its form flickering like a corrupted image on a broken screen. The wound I left behind doesn't heal. Doesn't bleed.

It just stays open, unraveling at the edges.

I don't think. I stab again.

The blade sinks deep.

And for the first time—it screams.

Not a noise.Not a cry.

A distortion.

A ripple that shudders through the room, warping the air around it.

I yank the knife free as the creature convulses, flickers—

And then—

It collapses inward, unraveling into strands of static.

Then—nothing.

I stand there, panting, the knife trembling in my grip.

Then—

A noise behind me.

I whirl around.

And see them.

Dozens.

Some crawl out from the walls. Others bleed into existence from the air itself.

Too many.

Way too many.

I tighten my grip on the knife, my knuckles white.

I can't fight them all.

I have to run.

I tear through the kitchen, vaulting over the counter.

I lunge for the back door—

SLAM.

The moment my hand touches the handle—something hits the glass.

A dark, clawed limb presses against it.

Outside.

They're out there too?!

I twist on my heel, heart pounding.

The stairs. The attic.

I sprint through the house, dodging the shadows flickering in my vision. The creatures move like broken puppets, twitching between frames of existence.

I take the staircase two at a time.

A hand shoots out from the darkness—

I barely duck in time.

The air **glitches where it passes—**like a part of the world was just cut away.

Faster.

I scramble up the final steps, breath ragged, my legs burning.

The attic—I have to reach the attic—

Then—

BOOM.

The house shudders.

The air vibrates.

And suddenly—

Everything collapses inward.

Light.

Blinding. Overwhelming.

It swallows everything.

For one impossible moment, I feel weightless—suspended in a sea of golden radiance.

And then—

Impact.

I crash onto pavement.

Pain explodes through me, my nerves screaming in protest.

I gasp, struggling for breath. My body aches.

And above me—

The sky is burning.

Not with fire.

Not with destruction.

With war.

Shapes descend from the heavens—winged figures wreathed in celestial light.

Something old. Something absolute.

Angels.

Their weapons aren't swords.

Aren't spears.

They are reality given form.

The moment they appear, the void creatures scream.

Not in pain.

Not in fear.

In rejection.

As if their very existence is being denied.

They recoil, their forms shuddering—

And then the battle begins.

I barely have time to think.

Barely have time to breathe.

Because one of the winged figures lands in front of me.

Six wings.A face that isn't human, but too perfect to be anything else.Eyes that see everything.

It looks at me.

And in a voice that is neither gentle nor cruel, it speaks a single word—

"Run."