Creation Of All Things

Aurora's Hidden Workshop

The light within the gate twisted again.

Not flared. Not surged.

Twisted.

Like a breath held too long, like silence that forgot to end.

Joshua took a step back. Aurora's fingers tensed beside the console. The ring's harmonic pulse wavered—still stable, but no longer calm. Something… foreign was pressing through.

Then—

It stepped out.

No sound.

Just presence.

Darkness.

A form of pure void, shaped like a man but not built like one. His body was matte, shapeless yet sharp, like every inch of him rejected definition. No clothes. No details. Just shadow given weight. The kind of darkness that wasn't the absence of light—

It was the reason light feared to exist.

Joshua froze. Aurora's hands slowly lifted.

But the being didn't move. It just stood inside the frame. Watching.

Then—

It took one step.

The lights dimmed.

The workshop's air temperature dropped.

The being's head tilted slowly, like learning gravity for the first time. When it finally spoke, the voice didn't echo.

It settled.

Deep. Hollow. Cold like a bell toll at the end of a funeral.

"…Joshua."

Joshua's eyes widened. "Y-you know me?"

"I built you… a path."

Aurora moved forward, her tone steady. "You came through our machine."

"Yes."

"You used us."

"Yes."

Joshua's fists clenched. "Why?"

The being blinked—if one could call that motion blinking. His face changed. Slowly. Shadows compressed, and from nothing, a form began to shape—hair dark as sleep. Eyes black like oil.

Adam's face.

But wrong.

Smoother. Too symmetrical. A shadow's version of a man.

"My name," he said, "is Veylor."

Joshua took a half step forward. "What… are you?"

Veylor's voice stayed still.

"I am the unmaking. The correction. The silence."

He stepped fully into the room. The portal flickered behind him, then dimmed to a soft ripple.

"I was born when Adam Dhark was born. A thing that should not be. Chaos given shape. A breach in balance. He… cracked the cycle."

Joshua blinked. "Who?"

"Adam," Aurora said softly. "That name… it feels…"

"Unwritten," Veylor answered. "Because he was never meant to exist in your world. He was sealed. Stripped. Buried behind layers of peace."

He looked at them both.

"And you… shadows of that light. The afterglow of something burned away."

Joshua frowned. "You're not making sense. We made the machine to prove the multiverse exists. You hijacked that. You manipulated us."

"I guided you."

Aurora stepped forward. "Why? Why lead us here? Why send the dreams?"

Veylor's voice lowered. "Because I needed a door. If I crossed the veil through force, Adam would see. And then… I would fail."

"You couldn't cross without us."

"No."

"So you made us build the door ourselves."

"Yes."

Joshua shook his head. "You lied."

"I calculated."

The portal hummed behind them. The frame now responding to Veylor's presence. Not rejecting. Accepting. Like it remembered him.

Aurora stepped between them. "What do you want now?"

"Completion."

Joshua raised an eyebrow. "Completion?"

Veylor turned to him.

"I am not here to destroy. I am here to restore."

He looked at Aurora.

"You are anomalies. Echoes preserved by fracture. You are not meant to exist like this. You are… reminders. Of something broken."

Joshua narrowed his eyes. "You think we're… leftovers? From Adam?"

"You are shadows of them all. I need you to return."

"Return where?"

Veylor tilted his head.

"To me."

Joshua stepped back.

Aurora flared her aura slightly.

"You want to consume us," she said.

"No," Veylor answered. "I want to silence the ripple. Anomalies spread. Every year, your dreams grow louder. Every memory buried comes back in fragments. Soon, your reality will destabilize."

Joshua clenched his teeth. "And you think the fix is to erase us?"

"No. To reintegrate you."

He walked slowly, like a shadow drifting through light.

"You, Alice. Aria. Alfred. Alexandria. Aurora."

His eyes met Joshua's last.

"You are not alone in this world. And yet… you were all born into peace without a price. That is unnatural. That is… a lie."

Aurora's fists tightened.

"You want to unmake us."

Veylor said nothing.

But he didn't deny it.

Joshua's breath was shaky.

"Why now? Why not earlier?"

"Because the moment you opened the gate, the veil thinned. The lie trembled. You made the choice to seek the truth. I… simply arrived at its edge."

Joshua stared at him. "You think you're fixing something."

"I am."

"By ending us."

"By ending the lie."

Aurora moved. Between Veylor and Joshua now, completely. Her aura expanded slightly, the lines of reality bowing at the edges.

"You're not taking him," she said flatly.

"I will," Veylor replied. "In time. When he understands."

Joshua grabbed her arm. "Aurora…"

"Shut up," she whispered. "He's not taking anyone."

Veylor's form flickered again.

Back to that formless black. Shifting. Endless.

He stared at them for a moment longer.

"You were meant to be nothing," he said, voice almost sad. "But you dreamed too loud."

He turned to the portal.

"This door will remain. I will return. With or without your choice."

He stepped toward it.

Then paused.

Turned back.

His form flickered—becoming Adam again. Just long enough for Joshua to see the resemblance, and the pain it carried.

"You will remember him soon," he said.

And then he walked through the light.

Gone.

The room fell silent.

Joshua stared.

Aurora slowly relaxed her stance. But her hands were still trembling.

He sat down on the floor, too numb to speak.

Aurora stood beside him.

Neither said a word for a while.

The portal faded to a soft shimmer.

No sound.

No more steps.

Just the machine, humming… like it hadn't just become a doorway for something not meant to exist.

Joshua still sat there, staring blankly. The machine he'd dreamed of—designed—suffered for—had worked. Too well.

Aurora stood beside him, unmoving. Her eyes hadn't left the ring.

Then slowly… she turned.

Walked.

Her boots made no noise on the metal floor, but something in the air shifted with every step she took—like the room knew.

Joshua blinked. "Aurora?"

She didn't answer.

He watched as she crossed the room, headed toward the supply cabinet near the back.

She reached inside. Pulled something out.

A black case.

She placed it on the workbench. Opened it.

Inside: a compressed orb of violet energy sealed in a magnetic shell. A failsafe.

Joshua scrambled up. "Hey. Wait. What are you doing?"

Aurora didn't look at him. Her voice was low. Sharp.

"I'm destroying it."

Joshua froze.

"What?"

She turned, finally. Eyes glowing faintly.

"This machine… can't stay. Not now. Not after that."

"You're talking about the machine we built. Together."

"No, Joshua. I'm talking about the door he walked through."

Her voice cracked at the end. Just slightly.

Joshua stepped closer, shaking his head.

"You said we were close. You said we were on the edge of something real."

"I know what I said," she snapped, then looked away. "But I didn't know he was waiting behind it."

He stared at her, then at the portal ring.

"It wasn't the machine's fault."

"It doesn't matter. He used us. This workshop. Our minds. This machine is a signal flare. If we keep it open, we're just calling him back."

She picked up the orb.

Its hum began to rise.

Joshua moved fast.

Grabbed her wrist.

"Aurora. Please."

Her eyes locked with his.

And for a moment… something wavered.

Not her power. Not her stance.

Her heart.

He saw it.

The fear she never showed. The weight in her silence. The memories she didn't know but felt anyway.

"Don't destroy what we made," Joshua whispered. "It's not just a machine. It's proof. It's truth."

Aurora's hand trembled slightly.

But she didn't let go.

"We were never supposed to build it."

"Maybe we were," he said, gently now. "But even if we weren't… we did."

Aurora turned her gaze to the ring.

The light still shimmered faintly in its core. Not open. Not closed.

Just waiting.

"Joshua," she whispered, "he said we'd remember Adam soon. That means something's coming. Something we can't stop."

Joshua took a breath.

"Then destroying the machine won't stop it either."

Silence.

The orb in her hand pulsed once.

A flicker of violet lighting up her face.

Then—she lowered it.

Gently.

Placed it back in the case.

She stood still for a moment. Then closed the lid.

"…Fine."

Joshua let out a breath.

"I'm not saying we ignore it," he said. "But we can't run from it either."

Aurora looked at him.

Not cold. Not glowing. Just tired.

"Then what do we do?"

He looked at the machine again. At the faint shimmer of the dimensional veil inside.

"We prepare."

She folded her arms. "For what?"

His voice was quiet.

"For the day we remember who Adam is."

The machine hummed again.

No longer a question.

Just a promise.