I had no idea how long I'd been unconscious when I woke up, my whole body ached and my head was spinning. The overpowering scent of herbs and blood assaulted my senses, making me scrunch my nose and hiss under my breath.
Light slanted in through a narrow opening, and everything tasted metallic and old.
"You are awake?" a woman asked, her voice hushed.
I screamed when I saw her. She looked like nothing I had ever seen before. She was not like the glossy models on magazine pages. Her skin was olive and weathered, lined by tiny scars that mapped a life of hard work.
Her hair was a thick curtain of dark coils tied back with a strip of leather; loose curls clung to her temple. Her eyes were sharp and pale brown, catching the light like chips of stone.
Worn beads hung at her throat, and the cloth across her shoulders was patched many times. She moved with the slow, careful balance of someone used to carrying heavy loads, but there was a quiet strength about her—an animal calm that watched everything.
"Is this real?" My voice came out plain.
"You're not from here, are you?" she said, eyeing me with a hungry, hollow smile that made a chilling sensation run down my spine. The smile showed no teeth; it was a measuring look, as if she were trying to decide whether I would live or die.
Weren't these the people I was trying to bring back? Or had the lightning messed with my brain? I slapped myself across the face so hard I almost shed a tear. The pain was real.
"I have never seen something like you," the woman said, holding a damp cloth toward my face.
I hit her hand away rashly, and the bowl of hot water splashed across her hands. She didn't flinch or groan. She took the pain in like it was nothing, simply folding the wet cloth in her palms. My stomach tightened, if that had been me, I would have screamed.
Her eyes never left mine, steady as a hunter's.
"The king will know what to do with you," she said.
Something finally dawned on me, these people spoke my language. These were our ancestors, the humans who first walked the earth. I froze. The books said they were simple, unable to speak well. But now, here we both were, understanding each other perfectly.
"It's a dream, it's a dream," I whispered. "I just have to find my machine and get out of here."
"Did you see my machine?" I asked aloud.
"What is a machine?" she asked back, confusion in her voice.
Before I could answer, loud voices erupted outside.
"Bring the outcast out!" one roared.
My chest tightened. If there was only one outcast here, it had to be me.
Two Homo erectus beings barreled in and seized me. Taller and heavier than the woman, they were broad-shouldered with thick necks and heavy brows. Their skin was darker, their arms long, their jaws strong and heavy.
When they grabbed me there was no gentleness; they carried me like I was a sack of salt and slammed me into the open air.
There he was—the sapien. Cleaner, sharper, taller. His cloth was neat, his hair carefully plaited. He radiated the air of someone born to command. He looked like a leader, maybe even a king.
"Did the Neanderthals send you?" he asked, voice edged with ice.
I said nothing. A horrifying truth crawled into my bones, I was really here. Truly transmigrated to the Stone Age. Around me were all the human species I had only read about in books:
Homo habilis – earliest toolmakers.
Homo erectus – tall, muscular, first to use fire.
Homo heidelbergensis – hunters, ancestors of Neanderthals.
Homo neanderthalensis – stocky, powerful, wide-nosed.
Denisovans – mysterious, robust, with great teeth.
Homo sapiens – modern, sharper, smarter.
And I was caught in their middle.
"Who sent you?" the king hurled at me. His eyes were hard, weighing me like a stone in his palm.
"I think we should kill him. He is a spy sent to destroy us," someone growled.
"No, don't kill him. We are not like the Neanderthals," another protested.
"We can't keep him here—he's marked," a woman spat.
The king's gaze sharpened. "Marked?"
The woman who had helped me spoke again, her voice calm.
The king hesitated, then spoke low, almost to himself. "Put him in the contest. If he is truly marked, he will survive. If not, his blood is not on our hands."
The voices around me blurred into smoke. Contest? Survival? I stared at the woman, but she only nodded. My stomach twisted. I was doomed.
******
That night I sneaked out of the room, It was small—a lean-to of woven reeds and mud. Animal skins were spread for beds, and a slow fire smoked in the center, making everything smell like wood and cooked meat. Tools were stacked on a rough shelf: flint knives, bone needles, strips of dried meat.
There was no glass, no metal—only stone, wood, and cord. A narrow slit served as a window. Outside it the world looked huge and cold. I moved on tiptoe, my heart banging against my ribs.
I walked towards the gate but realized the gate was blocked and was patrolled by other sapiens. The security was tight and it made me wonder what was going on. Were they being hunted by something? Why would they build such a strong gate? Of course it was for protection, and now it wouldn't be so easy to leave.
My machine was still outside in the lagoon. It pulsed loudly and shimmered; lightning still sparked through it and it made me sure it could still work. I needed to leave this place before these people actually send me to my death.
"Contest my foot," I muttered, and kicked the sand. Then I started coming up with something to run away.
I picked up a dry bone from a fire pit and crept to a corner where a pair of guards talked. I tossed the bone toward a distant pile of brush with a soft underhand fling. It clattered just beyond their circle. Instantly, one guard's head snapped toward the noise; the other followed.
They grunted and went to investigate, their spears ready. While they walked away I slipped through the space between two lean-tos and melted into shadow. My lungs burned as I ran silent, feeling like I might break apart with every step.
I was so happy, I made it out. Those creatures were indeed dumb. I laughed crazily at the sound of my own relief. I ran to the lagoon, but this time it felt deeper. The water was green and slimy, my feet sank. As I walked closer to my machine my legs sank deeper and deeper until only my head was above.
I reached my machine and touched it. The lightning struck me softly. I groaned. What the hell is wrong with this thing? I groaned in anger and frustration.
Then I noticed something moving under my feet—a long, thick rope-like shape coiling around the machine. I stood frozen. It was long—really long—like a snake.
Is that a snake? I screamed.
It was a titanoboa. The creature reared its thick head out of the water and fixed me with a cold, unblinking eye. Black water slapped against my legs.
I screamed and began to run back to the gate. I didn't think. I splashed through the slimy water, each step sucking my boots down. The titanoboa lashed. Its great body rolled like a fallen tree; the water heaved and hissed.
It lunged toward my ankle. I threw myself sideways, the slick mud taking my weight. My shoulder slammed into a half-buried rock and my breath ripped from my chest. The titanoboa's jaws closed on empty water where my leg had been a second before.
I crawled, hands clawing at wet reeds, blood and mud on my palms. The creature lashed again and again, its length sweeping like a whip. I shoved with my arms and kicked with a momentum born of pure terror. For a hair-thin moment I felt the snake's scales brush my calf. My fingers found a jag of flint; I dug it into the creature's side.
It made a sound like a bell being struck, a wet angry shriek. The beast recoiled. I scrambled to my feet and ran full-tilt, lungs burning, leaving a trail of water and bloody footprints.
I thought this animal was extinct. Something also bothered me, the titanoboa had no existed during this era so how come it's here. I was too confused and scared. All that matters now is surviving.
I ran back to the gate screaming as I saw the creature swimming toward me. I fell into the water and kept running, banging at the gate.
" Please open up!" I pounded with both palms and shouted until my voice tore.
" It's the marked one," someone cried.
" You morons—open the damn gate!" I screamed as the snake drew closer.
" Open the gate!" the woman said, and then I heard arrows sing over the gate, cutting the air. The arrows hissed and splashed into the lagoon. One landed in the water and thudded against the titanoboa's flank. Another struck the creature's tail with a dull crack.
The beast twisted in pain and anger; its head thrashed, water spraying like a curtain. Sapiens on the wall leaned over with bows, loose quivers rattling. Each arrow found a wet place to bite. The titanoboa, wounded, dived and thumped away in a giant roll of spray, leaving a boiling trail.
The gates opened and I ran through them; they slammed shut behind me with the weight of a living thing.
I breathed heavily, chest heaving. My shirt clung to me with mud and salt water.
" What was that?" I asked.
" You can't leave. The outside world is dangerous and filled with evil. Why do you think we built this wall?" she said, voice soft but firm.
" So I was stuck here," I said, the truth settling cold in my stomach. The machine hummed in my memory like a heartbeat I could not reach.
******
That night, the forest shuddered. Blood dripped from broken leaves as the Titanoboa slithered into the mountain caves, its scales glistening with an otherworldly sheen. This was no beast of earth—it was a demon serpent, its eyes burning like molten gold, its hiss echoing like a chorus of whispers in a language long forgotten.
The cavern it entered was a hall of horrors. Bones lined the walls in grotesque patterns, skulls set into niches like trophies. Torches sputtered with sickly flame, painting the air in smoke and shadow.
On a throne of blackened stone and skulls sat the Neanderthal lord. His presence was a darkness that clung to the skin, an aura of power and rot. Women draped in furs lingered at his side, giggling with voices too thin to hide their fear.
The serpent bowed low at his feet, blood trailing across the stone floor.
"Why stain my hall with your blood?" the lord growled, his eyes narrowing.
The serpent's body rippled in violent shudders, scales scraping against the stone. Its hiss rose sharp and venomous.
The lord tilted his head, listening—truly listening—as though the serpent's movements carried meaning only he could hear. Then he spoke aloud, his voice like a cruel echo:
"Humans… they dared wound you." His lips curled into a cold smile. "I do not care that the sapiens' arrows wounded you. Your failure alone is proof enough. No ordinary prey escapes your coils. Only the lightning-born could."
The Titanoboa pressed its massive head into his hand, and he stroked it with something almost like affection.
The serpent's coils tensed, its tongue flicking rapidly.
"There is a stranger among them," the lord interpreted, his grin widening.
He leaned forward, eyes burning red. "What kind of stranger?"
The serpent's body shivered, twisting in a pattern sharp and deliberate. Its hiss deepened into a guttural rumble.
"Not human…" the lord whispered, delight dripping from his voice. "Different."
He erupted into jagged laughter that shook the chamber. "So the marked one has come at last! The lightning-born, just as the prophecy foretold. Welcome to our world."
He rose from his throne, shadows stretching with him.
"Come," he said, voice thick with hunger. "I will make you whole again."
He led the serpent deeper underground. There, in a vast hollow cave, iron bars held dozens of captives. Their screams shattered the air as the torches flared brighter.
The Neanderthal lord spread his arms, voice rich with malice.
"Here is your feast. Drink deep, and let your strength return."
The captives wailed, the cavern drowning in terror as the Titanoboa slid toward them, its golden eyes glowing like a god of death.