The descent into the deeper levels of the OtherSide began with a ritual that made Kyon's skin crawl. The rogue children gathered in a circle around a pit that seemed to breathe with its own malevolent life, their weapons glowing with an inner light that hurt to look at directly.
"The Forgotten Zones don't follow the same rules as the rest of the OtherSide," Marcus explained as he carved symbols into Kyon's arms with a blade made from crystallized nightmares. "Down there, thought becomes reality. Fear becomes substance. And the line between dreamer and dreamed disappears completely."
The symbols burned like brands, but Kyon gritted his teeth and endured it. Around him, the other children who had volunteered for the mission were undergoing the same process. Sarah's arms were already covered in the glowing marks, her face pale but determined.
"How many children have tried this before?" Kyon asked.
"Seventeen expeditions," Marcus replied, not looking up from his work. "None have returned."
"That's encouraging."
"It's not meant to be encouraging. It's meant to be truthful." Marcus finished the last symbol and stepped back. "The markings will protect you from the worst of the reality distortions, but they won't last forever. Once they fade, you'll become part of the Forgotten Zones permanently."
"How long do we have?"
"Hours. Maybe less, depending on how deep you go."
The pit at the center of the circle began to emit a low humming sound that seemed to come from somewhere beyond the physical world. The walls around them started to dissolve, revealing a view of the OtherSide that defied comprehension.
It was vast beyond imagining—a twisted landscape of impossible geometries and living shadows that stretched to horizons that curved upward into nothingness. And everywhere, scattered like broken toys across the nightmare terrain, were the remains of children who had tried to find their way home.
"The Shepherds above are just middle management," Sarah said, her voice barely audible over the growing hum. "The real power lies in the Forgotten Zones. With the Architects."
"The Architects?"
"The first imaginary friends to realize they could survive their children's abandonment. They're the ones who built the OtherSide, who created the Shepherds, who designed the whole system. They've been down there for so long that they've forgotten they were ever anything else."
Marcus handed Kyon a rope made from braided hair—hair that seemed to move and whisper on its own. "This is your lifeline. Whatever you do, don't let go of it. The Forgotten Zones will try to convince you that you belong there, that you always have. The rope will remind you who you really are."
"What are we looking for down there?"
"The Heart of the OtherSide," Sarah replied. "The source of all the fear, all the power. If we can find it, we might be able to shut down the entire system."
"And if we can't?"
Marcus's smile was grim. "Then we'll join the seventeen expeditions that came before us."
The pit began to pull at them with a force that seemed to come from their own minds rather than the physical world. Kyon felt his consciousness stretching, expanding, becoming something larger and more terrible than it had ever been.
And then they were falling.
The descent took forever and no time at all. Kyon was aware of passing through layers of reality, each one more twisted and impossible than the last. He saw children who had been falling for decades, their eyes wide with an understanding that had driven them mad. He saw Shepherds who had tried to venture into the Forgotten Zones, only to become trapped in their own ambitions. He saw things that had never been imagined by any child, creatures of pure concept and abstract terror.
And through it all, he felt the rope in his hands, the only thing keeping him anchored to who he had been.
When they finally landed, it was on a surface that felt like broken glass made from crystallized screams. The sky above them was a swirling mass of colors that had no names, and the air itself seemed to whisper with the voices of every child who had ever been forgotten.
"Stay close," Sarah said, her voice distorted by the strange acoustics of the place. "And whatever you do, don't believe anything you see. The Forgotten Zones will show you exactly what you want to see, and then use it to destroy you."
They began to walk across the landscape of crystallized terror, their footsteps echoing with sounds that seemed to come from their own past. Kyon could hear his mother calling his name, could see flashes of his childhood home in the twisted reflections of the ground beneath them.
"It's not real," he reminded himself, but even as he spoke, he could smell his mother's perfume, could feel the warmth of her embrace.
That's when he saw the first Architect.
It stood in the distance, a figure that seemed to be made from the combined fears of every child who had ever lived. It was impossibly tall, its form shifting between different shapes—sometimes a monster, sometimes a parent, sometimes a friend. But its eyes remained constant, burning with an intelligence that was both ancient and utterly alien.
"The Wanderers have returned," it said, its voice echoing across the impossible landscape. "How delightful. It has been so long since we had proper entertainment."
More Architects began to emerge from the twisted terrain, each one a unique nightmare given form. They moved with a grace that was beautiful and terrifying, their attention focused entirely on the small group of children who had dared to enter their domain.
"We seek the Heart," Sarah called out, her voice stronger than Kyon had expected. "We wish to make a bargain."
The Architects' laughter was like the sound of breaking glass mixed with children's screams. "A bargain? How wonderfully quaint. And what could you possibly offer us that we do not already possess?"
"Freedom," Kyon said, surprising himself with his boldness. "We know you're trapped here, just like the children above. We know you want to escape."
The laughter stopped abruptly. The Architects drew closer, their forms becoming more solid, more threatening.
"Escape," one of them said, its voice like silk wrapped around razor blades. "An interesting concept. But escape to what? To return to a world where we are forgotten, where we fade into nothingness? No, child. We have found something far better than freedom."
"What's that?"
"Purpose. Meaning. The ability to create something eternal from the temporal nature of childhood." The Architect gestured to the landscape around them. "Behold our masterpiece—a realm where nothing is ever truly forgotten, where every fear, every nightmare, every moment of terror is preserved forever."
"You're feeding on children," Kyon accused.
"We are transforming them," the Architect corrected. "Into something greater than they ever could have been. Into art."
That's when Kyon saw them—the children who had been transformed by the Architects. They were embedded in the very landscape, their bodies fused with the crystallized terror, their faces frozen in expressions of eternal anguish. But their eyes were alive, aware, watching.
"This is what awaits all children eventually," another Architect said, its form shifting to resemble Amy for a moment before returning to its monstrous shape. "Growing up, forgetting, becoming mundane. We offer them something far more precious—the chance to remain forever in their purest state."
"You're insane," Sarah whispered.
"We are evolved," the Architect replied. "We have moved beyond the simple need for survival into the realm of creation. And now, you will join our collection."
The ground beneath them began to shift and change, reaching up with crystalline fingers to pull them down. Kyon felt the rope in his hands growing slack, felt his connection to reality beginning to fade.
But that's when he noticed something the Architects hadn't expected him to see.
The children embedded in the landscape weren't just watching. They were trying to communicate, their eyes moving in patterns that seemed almost like...
"It's a map," he said suddenly. "They're showing us the way to the Heart."
The Architects' forms flickered with surprise, and in that moment of distraction, Kyon made his choice.
He let go of the rope.