Fractured Reality

Alex woke with a start, gasping for air. His heart thundered in the silence. Sweat clung to his skin. The figure. The darkness. That single word—it had been too vivid to dismiss as just a dream. His throat felt raw, as if he'd been screaming. Each breath was a rasp, the air too thin. A tremor ran through his hands. Every beat of his heart echoed in his chest.

Sweat trickled down the side of his face, his muscles tense as if they expected something—someone—to leap out from the shadows of his room. No matter how hard he tried to shake it, the feeling remained, like a stain he couldn’t scrub away. How could it still feel so real?

Whoever, or whatever, it was, wasn't done with him.

He swung his legs over the bed, the cool floor biting at his soles. The stillness in the apartment felt suffocating, heavy with the weight of that word—soon—pulsing through his mind, cold and inevitable.

He drifted to the window. Emberlight sprawled beneath him, its arcane lights humming with a muted pulse. Dragging his fingers across his scalp, Alex tried to untangle the knots in his mind.

He drifted to the window. Emberlight sprawled below, its arcane glow a muted pulse. Dragging his fingers through his hair, Alex tried to shake off the lingering nightmare.

Why was this happening? Exhaustion? Stress? No. He wasn’t a novice. He’d faced dangerous, unstable magic before. But this was different. The dark energy hadn’t just touched him—it had gripped him. That cold sensation still curled around his skin, refusing to fade.

His hand hovered over his phone. Lila would understand—she always did. She’d believed him yesterday, even when the lab had been wiped clean. But he didn’t want to worry her. Not yet. She had enough on her plate.

Morning would come soon enough, and with it, another day at Magic, Inc. He needed to act normal, be normal. At least until he knew more. But the night dragged on, restless, the shadow of the dream pressing against his thoughts, leeching into his waking hours.

By morning, his routine felt wrong. In the kitchenette, his spell to brew coffee and toast bread went awry—the coffee overflowed, the toast burned to a crisp.

“Great,” he muttered, cleaning up the mess.

The burnt smell clung to the air as he doused the tiny flame with a flick of his hand. His magic, usually effortless, felt sluggish.

Magic had always flowed through him like a second heartbeat, effortless and instinctual. He could cast the most intricate spells with a flick of his wrist, a silent command in his mind. But now? Now it felt like trying to summon water from a dried-up well. Every attempt took more focus, more effort than it should, like something was holding him back. Or worse—draining him.

The apartment felt thick, the lights flickering at the edges of his vision. He grabbed his jacket and stepped outside, hoping the cold air would clear the fog in his mind.

The levitating train skimmed along its invisible track, Emberlight blurring past in streaks of color. Alex rested his head against the window, watching the city carry on as usual. People chatted, checked their comms, smiled. Normal. Reassuring. But to Alex, everything felt distant. Like he didn’t quite belong.

A nagging suspicion crawled into his thoughts. What if something had branded him? Left its stain, so that now the world around him was slipping away, piece by piece?

He rubbed his temple, trying to ignore the dull throb in his skull. Maybe it was in his head. The magic in the lab, the cloaked figure—it could’ve been a glitch, a leftover enchantment.

But he knew better. What he had felt was too real to dismiss. And now, as he sat on the train, surrounded by people going about their day, he felt more disconnected than ever.

Soon.

The word cut through his mind like a blade. He clenched his eyes shut, but the harder he tried to block it out, the sharper it became.

Magic, Inc. loomed ahead, its glass exterior glinting cold in the early light. To anyone else, it looked the same as always—imposing, humming with countless spells. But to Alex, unease twisted in his gut, like a shadow curling at the edges of his vision.

Inside, things seemed routine. Enchanted scrolls floated by, carrying messages. Denise at Reception flashed him her usual bright smile.

“Morning, Alex!” she chirped.

“Morning,” he replied, forcing a smile of his own. It felt hollow.

The elevator ride to the Magical Compliance Department was uneventful—no flickering lights, no strange sensations, just the quiet hum of the building. But his skin buzzed with unease. Whatever had happened in the lab hadn’t left him.

The department was busy as always. People moved through their tasks, weaving spells into their work. It was all so familiar. But something was wrong. He could feel it, even if no one else noticed.

He slumped into his chair, the squeak of the old leather bringing no comfort. His desk was the usual mess of parchments, enchanted quills, and spell reports. The scrying orb flickered, projecting streams of minor magical violations—overuse of levitation spells, unauthorized teleportations, brawls with hexes. Just another day at work.

Alex stared at the first report, but the words blurred. His focus kept slipping back to the lab, to the cloaked figure. The dark magic. He had felt frozen, drained—like something was pulling him into another world.

Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he’d imagined it.

But no. The memory was too vivid. His fingers hovered over the scrying orb, but his mind was trapped in the moment, replaying it, searching for something he’d missed.

Frustration gnawed at him. He shoved the report aside, unable to focus. His thoughts tangled, weighed down by the dream and that cold sensation seeping into his bones.

He felt like he was slipping—lost in the very magic he was supposed to master.

He needed answers. And reassurance that he wasn’t losing his grip on reality.

The scrying orb pinged again, but Alex ignored it. He couldn’t sit here, buried in reports, while something bigger was unraveling.

Marcus might know something. Or at least point him in the right direction. Grabbing his jacket, he headed to the Security Division.

Marcus stood near the entrance, speaking with a junior officer. His expression was as steady as ever.

Alex approached, keeping his tone casual. “Marcus, got a minute?”

Marcus raised an eyebrow but gestured for him to follow. Inside the office, the door clicked shut, muting the noise outside. Marcus leaned against his desk.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I went down to the lower R&D labs yesterday,” Alex began.

Marcus’s brow furrowed. “And?”

“There was something there,” Alex said, lowering his voice. “I felt something...dark. I think I was pulled into a trap. A cloaked figure—”

Marcus folded his arms, unreadable. “A cloaked figure?”

“I know what I saw.”

Marcus crossed his arms, studying Alex with the kind of skepticism reserved for a rookie fresh out of training, not someone with years of field experience. "And you’re sure it wasn’t some backlash from an experiment? Those spells have been unstable for weeks."

Alex gritted his teeth, feeling the irritation prickle his skin. "I know the difference between a malfunction and whatever the hell that was. This wasn’t a stray spell."

Marcus’s lips thinned, a slow sigh escaping him as if dealing with Alex was just another inconvenience. "I’m not saying you didn’t feel something, Turner. But we’ve all been under pressure. Maybe your mind’s filling in gaps where there are none."

Alex opened his mouth to argue, but stopped.

Marcus studied him again before nodding. “Alright, let’s check the footage.”

They watched the feed from the lab. Alex’s pulse quickened as the video played, his eyes glued to the screen.

“There,” he said, pointing. But his voice faltered.

The footage showed nothing. His heart thudded harder, faster, as the seconds ticked by on the screen. His memory was a stark contrast to the video. He had felt frozen, not just physically, but as if time itself had stopped. The air had gone thick with power, warping around him.

But now? No figure. No magic. Just Alex, standing in the empty room, still as stone, for nearly ten minutes before collapsing.

Marcus frowned. “What hell, Turner. Did you pass out?”

Alex swallowed. “No. I...I wasn’t alone. There was something.”

Marcus replayed the footage. Again, nothing.

“All I’m seeing is you,” Marcus said evenly. “If there was something else, it’s not here.”

Alex stared at the screen, his chest tightening. He could still feel the cold, the dark magic clinging to him. But the video was empty.

“This isn’t right,” he muttered.

Marcus leaned back, his eyes narrowing. “We’ve all been under a lot of pressure. Maybe it was residual magic from another spell.”

“No. This was different. I know what I felt.”

Marcus watched him for a long moment. “Look, the footage shows you alone. If there was something else, it’s not on this.”

Alex’s jaw tightened. “Thanks for checking.”

As he turned to leave, Marcus spoke up. “I’ll take another look, see if the footage was tampered with. Keep your head on straight, Turner. Don’t start seeing things that aren’t there.”

Alex paused at the door, nodding without turning around.