With a sense of trepidation, he finally looked at her and spoke, the words feeling foreign yet familiar on his lips. As he broke the silence, a wave of relief washed over him. "Don't give it a thought?" he asked, seeking reassurance.
She laughed, a melodic sound that put him at ease. "Precisely. Don't think about what it is," she said with a soft smile. "I know exactly what you wanted to ask, and it's better you don't dwell on it."
He gazed at her, a million questions swirling in his mind. He wanted to ask them all at once, but before he could, she preempted him. "Where are you coming from?"
He hesitated, trying to gather his thoughts. "I don't know," he admitted. "Everything is a mess, constantly changing."
She nodded, her expression understanding. "I'm aware of that. But where exactly were you right before this?"
He closed his eyes, recalling the grassy field. "An infinite glade with tall grass," he said, the image vivid in his mind.
She mumbled to herself, "I've never been over there before."
He opened his eyes, curiosity getting the better of him. "Can you tell me what's going on?"
She chuckled, a hint of amusement in her voice. "I have no idea," she said. "I'm only slightly less confused than you are."
He raised an eyebrow. "But you seem to know what's happening here."
"What's happening, huh," she whispered, leaning in as her voice took on a conspiratorial tone. "The moment before you stepped inside was probably five minutes ago for you. Yet, I've been inside this space for what feels like two years."
She asked him to picture that—two years of constant silence and no interaction. "I felt it, but I'm not sure if it actually happened or if my mind was just counting seconds as days," she said, her voice laced with frustration and resignation. "Time passes at a violent, irregular pace around us, but our bodies don't age to match it. Your brain tries to process hundreds of years of static air in a second."
"What about the word you used before?" he asked. "A Fold?"
She stretched her hands, a faraway look in her eyes as memories flooded back.
"When I found myself here, I was lost and knew nothing," she began. "It was scary. I was alone, wandering." She paused, her gaze drifting into the distance. "Every scene was different, every moment a surprise, and I had no control over anything. It was like being a leaf blown by a storm."
"Then I met him... LS," she said, a small smile playing on her lips. "He was smart. Very smart. He was able to break it down to his comprehension and then explain it to me. There was no clock to measure what was happening—time is unanchored here. We could count a second, but have no idea how many decades actually passed. So, he came up with a term for each shifting reality... a Fold. We used it to measure our existence here, disregarding what it felt like—months, years, or decades. The scene itself is the only true unit of time."
As she spoke, a sense of understanding washed over him. The concept of Folds was a framework to impose order on absolute chaos.
"Why do you call him LS?" he asked.
"We can't hold onto real names," she explained, her voice dropping. "Even if someone tells you their name, your mind drops it almost immediately. The rate at which time shifts around us strips away identity to protect the brain from burning out. But two random letters stick—just like basic language syntax. We use objects we had on us or our first Fold to come up with a two-letter handle."
"What's yours?" he asked.
"RH," she said, her tone detached.
"Where is LS now?"
Her expression turned somber. "We got separated in the last Fold," she said softly. "I tried to stay with him, but he was starting to figure out deeper mechanics of this place. Even though he was constantly forgetting details, he was always right on the edge of solving it. Now, I'm on my own again, left with basic knowledge."
He felt a pang of anxiety, wishing he could have met LS to gain more insight. Yet, he was grateful to have met anyone in this void. "How many Folds have you been in?"
"Twenty-five," she responded matter-of-factly. "Though LS theorized that after a point, you start forgetting the count entirely."
He was shocked by the number. "How many more are there?"
She laughed softly. "When my Folds changed before, I met others. Some had been through dozens, others hundreds. There are probably thousands, or worse—it's an infinite loop."
"What about the other people you met?" he pressed. "Do they have anything in common?"
She shook her head. "No common Folds. LS thought it might be linked to personal fear or memory, but some scenes are completely tranquil." She looked down at the floorboards, her eyes narrowing. "Though LS warned me about something else..."
"What?"
"If you lose your mind to a scene—if you surrender to the sheer weight of time pressing on you—you don't physically die," RH said, her voice dropping to a tense whisper. "Your consciousness breaks, and the Fold claims you. It takes your memories, your body, your deepest horrors, and hard-codes them into the landscape. You become a static piece of the scene, trapped forever for the next traveler to encounter."
Before he could process her words, a line formed between them. It wasn't a crack in the floorboards—it was a fissure in reality itself, splitting the scene in two.
RH panicked. "Don't let up!" she shouted over a rising static hum, her voice urgent as she realized their time was up. "The Folds only get more dangerous—and if a scene tries to consume you, fight it! Hold onto your mind!"
The scene shattered violently, far faster than the glade had. The room tore open, and both of their presences dissipated into the void. Everything went pitch black, and he squeezed his eyes shut, terrified of where the shifting torrent of time would drop him next.