Beyond the door, the light shone bright, almost blinding. Gordon closed his eyes, waiting for the intense glare to dim. After a long second, he slowly opened them, only to be met by a gray, cloudy sky and two towering apartment buildings flanking him on both sides.
"Where... am I?"
He scrambled to his feet, his head spinning. He turned around instantly, his hands slamming against the brick wall right behind him.
The door was gone.
"What the..." Gordon muttered, his heart hammering against his ribs. He frantically smacked his palms against the rough bricks, digging his fingernails into the mortar as if he could peel the wall open. There was no ornate wood, no pulsing text, no floating orb. Just cold, solid brick.
His mind raced, trying to bridge the gap between the infinite corridor and this dirty alleyway. Had he just hit his head? Was the whole thing, the fall, the Author, the Archive—just some crazy hallucination?
Puzzled and completely consumed by the panic of his own thoughts, he didn't even notice the heavy footsteps rushing into the alley behind him.
"Gordon!"
The boy snapped back to reality at the sound of his name. Turning around, he was met by his school principal, the school nurse, and two other teachers. The nurse rushed forward, dropping her duffel bag onto the pavement and pulling out her stethoscope.
"Can you lift your shirt?"
Gordon just stared at her. His mind was still entirely in the clouds, completely unable to process the simple request.
The principal walked up beside them, placing a firm hand on Gordon's shoulder. Like a sharp electric shock, the touch snapped his mind fully back into his surroundings. Behind them, he could hear the two teachers whispering—not loud, but loud enough to carry down the alleyway.
"Poor boy… he's too traumatized to even talk."
"Indeed, it's a terrible sight to behold. Such an innocent child to be a victim of bullying."
Gordon's eyes shifted away from the teachers, looking back up at the man standing in front of him.
"Are you okay, Gordon?" the principal asked.
"Oh, sorry. I was just lost in thought. But I'm fine now."
The principal and the nurse exchanged a quick look, and the nurse shrugged.
"You aren't feeling any pain of any sort?" she asked.
"No."
"If you say so, but we'll still need to check you over just to be absolutely sure, alright?" the principal added.
The boy nodded mechanically, watching the nurse as the principal took a few steps back to give them space.
"Can you lift your shirt for me now, please?"
Gordon pulled up his school shirt, and the nurse pressed the cold chestpiece of the stethoscope against his skin. After concluding her quick check-up, she gave a reassuring nod to the principal.
"Now let's go back to the school," the principal said kindly. "Some people are waiting for you."
Gordon nodded, taking one last puzzled look at the blank brick wall before leaving the alleyway.
When they arrived at the principal's office, the nurse and teachers took their leave. Gordon and the principal stepped inside the room. Sitting there, looking visibly worried sick, were Edith and Eddie. The moment the door opened, they both jumped to their feet, their eyes widening in pure shock and relief.
Edith rushed forward, throwing her arms around Gordon in a tight hug, while Eddie walked up close behind her, letting out a heavy breath.
Pulling back, Edith gripped his shoulders, glaring at him through tearful eyes. "Don't you ever do that again! I was worried sick about you!"
"I'm sorry," Gordon said softly. "I won't worry you again, I promise."
"You better keep that promise," Eddie scolded, though his voice was thick with relief.
The principal cleared his throat loudly to grab everyone's attention.
"Great. Now that I have your attention, I need both Edith and Gordon to sit down. You, young man, can head back to class."
Eddie nodded, giving Gordon a cautious, lingering look before slipping out the door.
Gordon sat down automatically, the heavy leather chair feeling oddly cold beneath him. He didn't really listen to what Principal Alistar was saying. Phrases like "detained at Alexandria Correctional" and "fee-free year" floated past his ears like meaningless background noise. His mind was still trapped in that infinite corridor. He kept staring at the polished wooden surface of the principal's desk, half-expecting it to suddenly warp or flash blue light.
When Edith finally nudged his shoulder to stand up and leave, her hand felt incredibly heavy.
"There is no need to worry," the principal replied smoothly, waving his hand as if finishing a long explanation Gordon hadn't entirely heard. "The school board will not disagree with the decision. For now, just head over to the secretary's desk to sign out, go home, and have a well-rested evening. You may leave."
"Thank you, sir. Have a nice evening," Edith said.
The walk home was suffocating. The late afternoon streets were exactly as they had been that morning, but to Gordon, everything looked slightly off—like a poorly rendered picture. He kept touching his uniform, his skin, trying to convince himself he was actually there.
"Gordon, stop and look at me," Edith pleaded, breaking the long silence. She stopped him right on the sidewalk, grabbing both of his cheeks to force his golden eyes to meet hers. Her hands were shaking violently. "You're white as a sheet. You haven't said a single word. Did they hit your head? What did Balam do to you?"
"Nothing," Gordon lied, his voice sounding hollow and small, even to himself. "I just... I'm just really tired, Edith. I just want to go home."
She clearly didn't believe him—he could see the fierce panic and frustration in her eyes—but she let it go. Instead, she wrapped an arm tight around his shoulders, pulling him close against her side for the rest of the trek home.
By the time dusk approached, casting an orange, tanned sky over the city, Gordon was locked away in his room. He sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his desk where his school blazer was tossed carelessly over a chair. He felt like an absolute stranger in his own house.
Meanwhile, miles away, that same orange light hit the grim concrete walls of the Alexandria Correctional Facility...
The prison was a fortress of high concrete walls topped with razor-sharp electric wire, punctuated by tall watchtowers with armed guards stationed at the top. The heavy steel gates groaned open, allowing a sleek, black S-Class Sedan to drive smoothly into the courtyard and park.
Inside one of the holding cells, a group of student delinquents sat together in the dim light. One of them stared out the small window, feeling the cool evening breeze. Another was pacing frantically left and right, clearly losing his mind from stress.
The repetitive scuffling of his shoes finally snapped the nerves of the ruffian sitting alone in the corner.
"Can you sit your ass down? You're being so damn annoying."
The pacing boy stopped instantly and scrambled to sit down, his eyes darting fearfully toward their leader.
"I-I'm s... s.. sorry, Balam… I… I've never been to jail before, you see."
Balam just clicked his tongue, waving a dismissive, scarred hand. The boy went dead quiet.
"Stop acting weak. This won't be your last time," Balam sneered. "All these people you see in this block have either slept in or lived in cells. Just get used to it and stop acting like a fucking coward."
Not long after, the heavy iron door leading to the visitor's block creaked open. A security officer stepped through, followed by a 'guest' that the boys recognized all too well.
"You've got twenty minutes," the officer relayed to the man.
"Don't worry, it won't take long," Alistar replied smoothly.
The guard stepped back out, locking the heavy door behind him. Alistar walked leisurely toward the gang's cell. Inside, the teenagers stared at him—some with immediate anger, but a few showing clear signs of fear.
Balam didn't even look up at first. He was just sitting on his cot, staring blankly at the concrete floor. There was no anxiety about being locked up in a high-security facility, nor any anger. There was just a heavy, chilling indifference around him.
Slowly, Balam stood up and swaggered over to the cell door, his stocky, massive figure completely shadowed the principal standing in the corridor. When he gripped the iron bars, his face twisted into a faint, mocking smirk.
"Hey, teach," Balam whispered, his voice dangerously calm. "What's a stuck-up guy like you doing in a place like this? Go back to your little school."
Alistar raised an eyebrow, entirely unaffected. "You seem remarkably unbothered by a jail cell, Balam. Your mother has been calling the front office all afternoon, crying her eyes out."
Balam shrugged, his expression completely blank.
"Let her cry. It changes nothing," Balam said, his eyes glassy. He leaned his face closer to the bars, his tone dropping into a cold, careless whisper. "She cries when I miss dinner, too. People make a big deal out of everything. I'm now locked up in prison just because that little shit couldn't take a few hits."
He let his hands rest loosely against the iron, his thoughts entirely detached from the gravity of what he had done.
"Go help them plan his funeral, Alistar. I only threw a couple of punches. It's not my fault he was built like glass."
The gang let out a few forced chuckles, but the laughter died quickly. Even the delinquents looked uncomfortable, realizing their leader had completely checked out from reality. Balam didn't care about getting out of jail, and he didn't care about the consequences. He was just entirely numb to the world.
But the silence was broken when the principal began to laugh. It started as a chuckle, then grew into a loud, echoing sound, as if a madman possessed him. Wiping a genuine tear of amusement from his eye, Alistar finally faced the boy.
"A funeral? For whom? The boy is alive… and reborn, if I may add."
For the first time, Balam's unbothered facade cracked. His eyes narrowed, focusing intently on the principal. "How…? That's impossible. I left him completely blue. He wasn't breathing."
He gripped the iron bars a little tighter, a hard, frustrated frown replacing his smirk. "If he's alive... then what am I even sitting in this cell for? Tell me, Alistar. How is he breathing?"
Alistar looked at them, his face twisting into an evil, serene smile.
"Simple… he just awakened."
Without warning, the principal reached into his coat, pulled out a silenced handgun, and pointed it directly through the bars at Balam's chest.
"And so will you all…"
*******
Thud.
Gordon dreamed that he was standing in an endless field of white lilac flowers that stretched infinitely in every direction, casting a sweet, heavy scent into the air.
Suddenly, a brilliant pillar of light erupted from the heavens above him. Within the glow, a woman's graceful silhouette descended from the sky, wrapping him in a warm, desperate embrace.
"Return to me, Oh Happiness to my lonely existence… Return…"
Gordon sprang up in his bed, wide awake. His breaths came in frantic gasps, and for a split second, a faint, golden glow emanated from the wall behind his headboard. His heart hammered against his ribs as his mind raced, desperately wondering who that woman was.