Jared opened his eyes. Folding darkness. The hush pressing in.
Not absence. A deepening. Light pulling in on itself, shrinking away. Shadows lengthening, billowing, impossible. The city a distant murmur pressed against the walls. Pipes sighing. Electricity humming. All of it drawn in with a breath. Waiting.
He lay on his side, eyes open. Dim blue-gray morning. Adrian behind him, warm and solid. An arm draped over his waist, certain, as if it had always known the shape of him in the dark. Breath deep and even. Each exhale brushing the back of Jared’s neck.
Erebus curled at Jared’s feet. A knot of black fur, drinking in what little light remained. Eyes closed, but Jared felt their awareness. Quiet. Attentive. Effortless.
Jared did not feel tired.
He felt awake. Not alert, not anxious. Awake as in revelation. Mind and body aligning around something vast. Wordless.
Carefully, Jared shifted. Adrian murmured softly, fingers tightening for a moment before loosening again. Jared waited until Adrian’s breathing settled, then gently disentangled himself and slid out of bed.
Cool floor beneath bare feet. It should have grounded him. Instead, distance. Too much space between skin and wood. He flexed his toes, watching. Curious. Then stood.
Dim apartment. Thin predawn light leaking through windows. Shadows pooling in corners, along baseboards. Thicker than usual. Stretching longer than they should. Shadows pulling themselves with him as he moved.
Drawn forward. Not pulled. Not compelled. Invited.
He moved toward the hallway. Steps slow, quiet. Body moving on instinct, not intention. Halfway there, something shifted inside. The Dark stirred. Not pressure. Not hunger. Recognition.
Jared stopped at the bedroom doorway.
He did not know why he stopped. Only that stepping forward felt premature. Like speaking before the prayer finished forming. He lifted his hands and placed them flat against the doorframe, palms pressing into the familiar solidity of painted wood. His fingers splayed, thumbs brushing the edge where frame met wall.
A threshold.
Behind him, the bedroom receded. Dim light hesitated, uncertain if it could cross this boundary. Ahead, the hallway stretched. Wood elongating. The living room farther away than it should be.
Jared breathed in.
The Dark answered.
Shadows deepened. Not thickening, but awakening. His own shadow loosened, slipping from his body. Stretching forward along the floor. Edges blurring, reforming. Slow, deliberate. He was not afraid. A limb forgotten. Unused. Awe bloomed in his chest. Expansive. Humbling.
Oh. This was what it meant.
The Dark was not an end. Not erasure. The space between things. The pause between breaths. Stillness at the top of an inhale. Neither empty nor full.
The door was not a barrier. It was an offering.
His sense of self softened at the edges. Not dissolving. Loosening. Making room. Names, roles, histories drifting outward. Not vanishing. Rearranging. He was Jared, yes. But also the act of becoming. The choice to step forward or remain. The hinge the moment turned on.
A door was where the mundane brushed against the divine.
Jared pushed the door open. The Dark opened with him. Not space, but knowing. It poured into him. Not violent. Not gentle. Absolute. Existence unfolding. Galaxies churning. Stars decaying. Quiet mathematics behind loss and love. Endings curving into beginnings. Every fracture a seam. The unnamed things not missing, only waiting. For a breathless eternity, he was small. Vast. A single consciousness brushing against the total. What was. What would be. What time had already forgiven. When he stepped back, the door stayed open. He carried something new. Not answers. Alignment. A sense of belonging to the shape of the universe. Whole. Complete.
Behind him, in the bedroom, Adrian stirred.
The absence registered first. The lack of warmth, the missing weight against his chest. Adrian’s eyes opened, unfocused at first, then sharpened as he took in the dim room.
“Jared?” he murmured, voice thick with sleep.
No answer.
Adrian pushed himself upright, heart already beginning to race. He scanned the room and saw Jared standing in the doorway, hands braced against the bedroom doorframe, as if he were holding the world together by sheer will.
Something was wrong. Shadows wrong. Elongated. Misaligned. Moving without light. The air around Jared wavered. Space itself under strain.
Manifestation Phase.
The words slammed into Adrian with brutal clarity, years of training and observation crystallizing into cold certainty.
“No,” he whispered, already out of bed, already moving. “No, no, no.”
This was too soon. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. Jared was stable. Monitored. They had plans. Safeguards.
Adrian stopped several feet away, afraid to get closer, afraid not to.
“Jared,” he said, more firmly now. “Hey. Look at me.”
Jared did not turn.
His attention fixed on the doorway. The impossible depth beyond. The Dark humming through him. A chord struck at the right frequency. Adrian’s voice distant. Another layer of reality.
“I’m right here,” Jared said softly, reverently. “I haven’t gone anywhere.”
That sentence hollowed Adrian out.
Identity erosion. Fixation on thresholds. Altered perception of self and space. The list of symptoms unspooled in Adrian’s mind like condemnation.
Adrian swallowed hard. “Your shadow,” he said carefully. “It’s not behaving normally.”
Jared glanced down, almost fondly. The shadow responded, curling slightly toward him like a living thing, its edges rippling with quiet intent.
“It’s learning,” Jared said. “So am I.”
Adrian’s hands clenched into fists at his sides. “Jared, this is the Manifestation Phase. You know what that means.”
“I know what you call it,” Jared replied gently. “I know what it looks like from the outside.”
The hallway light flickered, dimmed. As if in deference. Adrian felt a prickle behind his eyes. Vision warping. Depth unreliable. The walls breathing.
This was bad. This was very bad.
Behind Adrian, Erebus padded silently into the hallway, tail held loosely upright. They took in the scene with bright, curious eyes, tilting their head slightly.
“Oh,” they said. “You’re standing in the between.”
Jared smiled faintly. “Yes.”
Erebus looked pleased. “It suits you.”
Adrian stared at them. “How can you say that? Don’t you see what’s happening?”
Erebus flicked an ear. “I see it perfectly.”
They brushed against Adrian’s leg, leaving a streak of warmth and fur, then sat neatly beside him, tail wrapping around their paws.
“He is not unraveling,” Erebus continued. “He is aligning.”
Adrian’s breath came shallow. “Alignment leads to anchoring. Anchoring leads to...”
“To change,” Erebus finished. “You fear transition.”
“I fear losing him,” Adrian snapped, then immediately regretted the sharpness in his voice.
Erebus regarded him calmly. “Loss is a human preoccupation,” they said. “The Dark does not lose. It transitions.”
Jared’s head tilted back. Fingers tightening on the doorframe. Understanding washing through. Doors as choices. Doors as mercy. The universe saying: here is a chance.
He felt the cycle. Endless turning. Becoming and unbecoming. Existence folding in, emerging new. Death not an ending. A door. Beyond, not void. Homecoming.
He felt very small. And very held.
Still in the doorway, the change rippled through him. Quiet, inevitable. Hair darkening, each strand drinking in the light. No reflection. Eyes next. Irises sinking into black. Not malice. Not emptiness. Only knowing. Fingernails blackened, glossy, precise. A thin film of shadow sliding over his skin. Second breath. The Dark pressed forward, ready to manifest. He stilled it. No effort. Just recognition. Part of the order. Not to be feared. Not to be fought. He let go of the doorframe, turned toward the bedroom. A small gesture. Shadows retreated, folding into corners, beneath furniture. Light easing back into balance. Forgiven. He drew a slow breath. The room leaned toward him. Walls, air, gravity bowing. On his exhale, everything settled. Aligned. Obedient. In the quiet, he whispered the truth he carried.
“The Dark is the fundamental beginning and the end,” he whispered. “The first source. Everything comes from it, and everything, in time, returns to it.”
“Jared,” Adrian said, voice breaking despite his efforts. “Please. Come back.”
Jared turned then, slowly, meeting Adrian’s eyes.
There was no emptiness there. No madness. Only wonder, luminous and aching.
“I don’t want to go through yet,” Jared said honestly. “But I understand it now. I understand what it’s offering.”
Adrian stepped forward despite himself and reached out, fingers brushing Jared’s arm.
Jared gasped softly. He leaned into Adrian’s touch instinctively, eyes fluttering closed.
“Oh,” he whispered. “You’re my tether.”
Adrian wrapped both arms around him, pulling him close, pressing Jared against his chest as if anchoring him through sheer proximity. His heart hammered painfully.
“I can’t lose you,” Adrian said, voice raw. “I won’t.”
Jared rested his weight against him. Breathing Adrian in. Soap. Warmth. Life. The door behind him shrinking back to its proper shape. The hallway ordinary again.
“I’m still here,” Jared murmured. “I chose to stay.”
Erebus wove between their legs. Observing. Purring. Offering comfort.
Slowly, the apartment settled. Space obeyed itself. Shadows returned to their shapes. The Dark receded. Not gone. Never gone. Content to wait.
Jared sagged. Exhaustion catching up now that the moment had passed. Adrian held him. One hand at his back. The other cradling his neck.
“We’ll talk about this,” Adrian said softly. “With daylight. And plans.”
Jared nodded. “Okay.”
Erebus’s tail flicked lazily. “You stood at a sacred door,” they told Jared. “Few do so consciously.”
Jared smiled faintly. “I wasn’t ready to walk through.”
“You will be,” Erebus replied. “When it is time.”
Adrian tightened his hold, jaw set with fierce determination. Not yet, he thought.
Together, they stood in the quiet aftermath. The threshold behind them closed. No longer unknown.
