Omega - Chapter Three: Below the Surface (Part 2)

Ivy and Jon stood in the dark alleyway, hunting their next victim. In her late twenties, Ivy stood at 5'9, while Jon was a measly 5'6. Both had blonde hair, but hers was brighter, more vibrant than his dirty, near brown shade.

They watched a woman stride past in sleek workout gear, an MP3 player clipped to one hip, a brand-new cellphone on the other, a diamond flashing on her finger. She wore the best labels and flaunted their logos with each step.

Ivy met Jon’s eyes and nodded. He grinned and cracked his knuckles in preparation. Together, they crept toward the woman as she jogged in place, waiting for the light to turn.

They waited at the edge of the alley, peering out at their prey. Ivy held Jon’s shoulder, restraining him from their task.

"Remember, quick and clean. No one gets hurt," Ivy said.

"I know, I know," Jon replied, anxious.

"Go then," Ivy said, releasing her grip on him. Jon ran, closing the distance between him and the woman. Before she could figure out what was happening, he had the phone and the MP3 player in his hands. She flailed at him, screeching as she did. Jon took a slap to the face, and Ivy giggled at the scene.

"Bitch," he said, trying to grab her hand while she kept slapping with the other. "Give me that ring!"

The woman’s foot slammed into Jon’s groin, doubling him over. Kicking him with her running shoes, the woman became enraged. She connected with his ribs over and over until Ivy tackled her to the sidewalk. A group of onlookers gathered around to watch the scene.

"Let go!" the woman said, as Ivy did her best to wrestle the rock from her finger.

"Give me the damn ring," Ivy said through grunts.

"Come on," Jon said, grabbing Ivy's shoulder. "We've gotta go!"

"Ha!" Ivy said, pulling the ring from the woman’s finger.

"You bitch!" the woman screamed, while trying to punch her attacker. Ivy jumped to her feet, dodging the quick attack and darted towards the alleyway.

"Give me back my ring!" the woman screamed with tears in her eyes.

"Holy shit!" Ivy said, running through the alley. "What happened back there?"

"What do you mean?" Jon asked, panting.

"You got your ass kicked by a girl.”

"She was a full-grown woman!" Jon said. "You said we couldn't hurt her!"

"Who knew she would fight back so much," Ivy replied. "Those Upper East Side bitches usually fold; no problem."

Around the corner, they slowed and slipped toward an open manhole tucked in the shadows. Scanning the area, Ivy let Jon go first, then climbed down a few rungs. She strained to pull the cover back over the hole, grunting as she slid it across the pavement. Jon was waiting for her at the bottom, flashlight in hand.

"You really should let me do that," he said, as she stepped down.

“I don’t need you to do anything for me,” she said, shooting him a look. “Come on, we need to get back.”

With Jon lighting the way, they walked through the long, empty passages of the damp sewer system. Arm-thick conduits lined the ceiling, water echoing somewhere ahead. They followed a set of small white chalk marks, but they didn’t look up for them. The little indicators were written at the tops of each corner they needed to take, but they had the path memorized.

"How much do you think we could get for this stuff?" Jon asked.

"I don't know," she said. "A couple hundred each, maybe."

"That’s it?" he asked. “The stone is huge!”

“Yeah, but who’s going to pay us what it’s worth?” she asked. “A fence like O’Toole will have trouble getting rid of it.”

“That sucks,” Jon said.

“That’s just not the way it works. That diamond could be worth millions and O’Toole would only give us a fraction of that. Look at the bright side, we’ll eat like kings tonight. All of us.”

As the words left her lips, they stepped into an abandoned train terminal. Shanties and tents sprawled across the tiled floor, ragged figures drifting through their makeshift lives. They passed a group of men, huddling over a burn barrel, talking about the “good old days”. A harsh stench of burning plastic hit them. Ivy stopped in her tracks.

“The rules are simple, Peter,” she said, to the man nearest her, gritting her teeth as the words came out. “We can’t burn plastic and other harmful things. You’re poisoning everyone here!”

“I’m cold!” he replied, holding his hands over the blue-green flames.

“Yeah, we’re cold!” said the other two.

“No– you’re a junkie. All of you are. The only reason you’re here is Eddy and his mercy,” she snapped, jabbing a finger at them.

“We all play a part,” Peter said, sneering at her.

“For now,” Jon said, leering at Peter as he turned and walked off.

“Ivy!” said a young girl, running up to them. “You’ve gotta come see.”

“What is it, Emily?” she asked.

“Eddy and them found something deeper in the sewers,” Emily said, her voice rising with excitement. “It's some kind of monster caught in one of the tunnels!”

Omega - Chapter Three: Below the Surface (Part 3 and 4 )

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Part Three

Reedy stood on the corner, questioning the hysterical woman as EMTs tended her wounds. An EMT placed an ice pack to her face and told her to hold it there. She pressed it tight against her cheek, then sagged, resting her head in her free hand.

“They came out of nowhere,” she said, pointing towards the alley. Her face knotted with grief.

“I was standing there, and they jumped me from behind. The young one—the boy—I had him, until a woman tackled me to the ground.”

“What did they take?” he asked, writing in his notepad.

“They took my phone, and the ring my husband gave me.” Her voice cracked as she broke down again. “He’s dead. We renewed our vows after his diagnosis—he surprised me with it on our wedding day.”

“‘And the ring– how much was it worth?’ Reedy asked, frowning.

“Fifty grand,” she said.

Part Four

Alpha Male landed on the concrete beside Officer Reedy. The woman’s eyes went wide and her tears dried up.

“What's going on here?” Alpha asked.

“Gang activity,” Reedy said. “It’s been getting worse.”

“They attacked me!” she said, bursting into tears.

“Rose mentioned it to me this morning. How have I missed it?” Alpha asked.

“They’re good,” Reedy said. “Feels like they’re keeping it small on purpose so we can’t nail them. Damn smart if you ask me. Criminals will adapt, you know?”

“Well,“Well, I didn’t,” Alpha said, looking toward the alleyway. “What’s back there?” I didn’t,” Alpha said, looking toward the alleyway. “What’s back there?”

“Nothing but a manhole,” Reedy said.

Alpha’s jaw tightened as he fixed his gaze on the dark mouth of the alley.

Abandon: The Last Light (Canto 4)

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Canto Four

They were speeding down a dark road when Dan reached back to place a hand on his daughter. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s starting to calm down,” Peter said.

“No...” Gemma said, crying. “She’s starting to die. Please Dan, get us there soon, or she’s not going to make it.”

He could hear his daughter’s light grunts and heavy breathing. “I’m sorry,” she said, in her little girl voice. The kid who had just graduated fifth grade was coming out again.

“It’s okay, honey,” Dan said, wiping a stream of tears from his eye. “It’s okay.”

His eyes darted back to the road as a car came at them. He hit the brakes just in time to miss the front end of the vehicle. It barreled past them and crashed into the side of a house. The car went through the wall, stopping inside the living room.

Dan snapped out of his stupor at the sound of his wife screaming, “Go!” He hit the gas and sped down the road, still looking back at the gaping hole in the house through his side mirror.

Minutes later, they reached Billy’s house. It was a large ranch style home, occupying the corner lot at the crossroads. Dan slid between two large oak trees, and came to a stop in the man’s green, front yard. The SUV left deep, muddy tracks across the grass. Dan jumped out and yanked open the back door. Peter handed off Ann’s legs and then crawled out. Dan slid the unconscious girl out and cradled her in his arms.

“Dan!” Gemma said, getting out. “What if they’re sick too?”

He stared at her for a few seconds, uncertain what to do and then rushed up to the front stoop. He banged on the door once and it opened. Billy, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair, a chubby face, and large-rimmed glasses, stood behind the threshold with a double barreled shotgun pointed at Dan.

“Billy, I need your help. It’s Ann,” he said, but Billy could see the blood dripping off her limp hands and onto the concrete.

“What’s wrong with her?” he asked from behind the gun.

“She cut her own wrist,” Dan said. “She’s dying. Please…”

“Barbara, get the first aid kit!” he yelled over his shoulder. He pointed the gun at Gemma and the boys. “They stay outside.”

“It’s too dangerous out here,” Dan said. “Have you seen what’s going on?”

Billy exhaled hard, lowered the gun. “Around back is a door that leads into my crawl space. I don’t want you in my house, but you can stay down there for now.”

Gemma grabbed her terrified boys and led them around the side of the house without looking away from Dan. Their eyes were locked until she disappeared around the corner, and he was left there with Billy. The weight of his daughter bore down on his shoulders.

“Inside,” Billy said, holding the door. Dan rushed into the house and Billy closed the thick wooden door and bolted it. “Put her on the island in the kitchen.”

Dan ran to the kitchen and laid his daughter on the marble top. Barbara, a thin, frail woman with long, curly black hair, sat the first aid kit down next to Ann, and then grabbed some towels and a large pan of water. She reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Billy cleaned the blood away by pouring water onto it and examined the wound the best he could.

“It’s been a while, but I think I can handle this. You need to go to your family,” Billy said. “I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“But…” Dan said.

“No buts,” Billy said, stopping him. “I can’t work on your little girl if you’re standing over my shoulder. Go, I’ll take care of this. There’s a stairwell in the back on the left.”

Dan hovered a moment longer, watching as Billy worked on his daughter’s wrist. His little girl was unconscious, sleeping like the dead. He walked out of the kitchen and down the hallway. He found the door, unlocked it and stepped down into the damp crawl space below.

Once his foot hit the damp earth, he had to slouch his head and shoulders to move around. His wife and two sons were resting up against a cinderblock wall. All of them were crying. She had her arms around both, trying to console them but Dan could see it in her eyes: she needed them just as much.

“Is she all right?” she asked, sniffling.

“I don’t know,” he said. He slid down the wall next to Peter and put his arm around them. They all huddled a little closer, holding each other in a tight embrace.

“I shouldn’t have made fun of her so much,” Peter said.

Outside, they could hear howls and screams tearing through the night. Dan scooted closer to his son and took his hand, squeezing it. The nerve-wracking sounds carried on until just before dawn.

Terra Incognita: The Abyss (Re-Explored Edition) – Chapter One

Chapter One

His shin slammed into splintered wood as his foot broke through the floor. Pain shot up his leg. He winced, waiting a few seconds for the sting to fade and a few more to regain his composure. With a crack, he pulled his foot free, dragging up rotted pieces of floorboard. Anger surged in his throat, fueled by every small frustration from his past compounding at once.

“I hate this house!” Benjamin Harking yelled, clutching his leg.

Everything in his life was falling apart. First the move, and now the house had become a monument to his unhappiness. It wasn’t a home. Just a place to receive mail. Not that he ever got any.

His parents had forced him to move in, only to ship him off to boarding school before he had a chance to settle. He’d barely had time to unpack.

“Some Christmas vacation this is,” he muttered, standing and brushing himself off.

Blood soiled the fabric of his jeans. He pulled the pants leg up and inspected the wound. It was deep enough to sting, but shallow enough to ignore. With a limp, he went downstairs, found the first aid kit, and dabbed some alcohol on the gash. It burned. He winced, then packed everything away.

There it was again. The letter. Still sitting on the counter, still open. Its contents hadn’t changed. Neither had the cold, practiced tone of his mother’s handwriting:

“Sorry we couldn’t be home for your return from school. Your father got called away to the city for business. We’ll see you soon. Merry Christmas. Mom.”

Charles, their butler, had left it out on a silver platter. Literally. Ben had found it when he wandered into the kitchen after the long bus ride, starving and exhausted.

Missing his sixteenth birthday was one thing. Missing Christmas too? That hit differently.

His dad’s promotion had been exciting. At least at first. But it didn’t take long for things to get unrecognizable. The new mansion was enormous, cold, and impersonal. His father could disappear for days. His mother, meanwhile, seemed intent on transforming into someone else entirely. She obsessed over fitting in with the other wives who were polished, manicured, distant.

Ben was proud of his dad for making partner. But it all happened too fast.

Exhausted, he decided to call it a night. As he passed the hole in the second-floor landing, he paused and peered into it, expecting to see the basement. Instead, he saw a small concrete room with no visible door. It was dim, cramped, and dusty, filled with old objects stacked in the corners. A single table stood at the center.

On the table was a book.

He adjusted the flashlight, angling the beam toward it. A skeletal hand gripped the cover.

A corpse. Withered. Bone-white.

Ben froze. The beam of the flashlight trembled in his grip. He stared, wide-eyed and silent.

Then came the shift. The fear drained away, replaced by something else.

Wonder.

He bolted downstairs, past the kitchen, straight for the basement door.

Christmas vacation had just gotten interesting.

He remembered Charles’ tour when they first moved in: the attic, the three main floors, even the cellar. No mention of a secret room. Had he known and kept it from them?

At the bottom of the polished stairs, he paused to take in the basement. White walls stretched into a maze of unused servant quarters. If it weren’t for Charles’ fastidious cleaning, the place would be buried in cobwebs.

As he searched, his mind ran wild. How long had that body been down there? Why was the room hidden? And what was that book?

For the first time in weeks, he felt truly alive.

He caught himself imagining how excited his father would’ve been, helping him search for hidden treasure. There had been a time when this sort of mystery would’ve brought them together.

After a few minutes, he spotted something strange. A section of wall beneath the stairs was door-sized and just slightly off in color. An off-white patch that didn’t match the surrounding paint hidden in the shadow of the corner.

He ran his hands across the surface, searching for seams.

Then an idea hit him.

It was stupid. Possibly illegal. He didn’t care.

He sprinted across the basement and crashed through the door to his father’s workroom. The walls were carefully organized with tools, all perfectly unused. His eyes landed on a cherry-red fire axe. It was pristine.

Not for long.

Back at the hidden wall, he hesitated. The axe was heavier than he expected. Excitement dulled the weight.

If he’d known what this one act would unleash, he would’ve turned around. He would’ve put the axe back on its hook, climbed the stairs, and let the evening die quietly.

But Ben didn’t know.

So, with a grin stretched across his face, he lifted the axe over his head.

And swung.

Terra Incognita — reading order

Book overview and chapters

Next → Chapter Two

Terra Incognita: The Abyss (Re-Explored Edition) – Chapter Two

Chapter Two.

The debris of splintered wood and chipped paint rested on the floor in a chaotic pile beneath Ben’s feet. Standing there, peering into the dark concrete chamber, he felt a sense of triumph. From above, a single pillar of light broke through the hole in the ceiling where his foot had first gone through, illuminating a small patch on the floor. Crates and boxes cluttered the walls, forming an empty circle in the middle of the room. The desk rested against the far wall, swallowed by shadow. Dust blanketed everything, and the air hung heavy with the haze stirred by his sudden arrival. It was a stale snowstorm of gray powder.

Ben failed to fight off a sneeze as he stepped in. The flashlight beam lit up the swirling particles as they settled onto every surface. Moving slowly, he swept the flashlight over each container, hesitant to approach the desk with the skeleton beside it. Some boxes were filled with strange stone artifacts cradled in packing straw; others held books and odd relics. Everything looked ancient, and ready for a museum. His excitement mounted as he sifted through the trove of objects, doing his best not to look toward the corpse.

Eventually, there was nothing left to search but the desk.

He lifted his gaze to the book. Then to the body.

The skeleton sat in the chair, leaning back against the wall. Its flesh and clothing had long since rotted away, leaving behind a fossilized remnant of a past life. A chill ran up his spine as he crept closer. He had never seen a dead body before, but it didn’t horrify him the way it did in movies. The bones sparked more curiosity than fear. To stay grounded, Ben ran his fingers across the desk, cutting lines through the thick dust.

He stood there, lost in thought, until his hand came to rest on the book, just inches from the skeletal hand. It was massive, bound in cracked leather and larger than any volume he'd seen. Even annotated Bibles couldn't match its heft. A strange bronze emblem adorned the cover, and the cracked hide gave it a sinister texture. Ben stared at it, transfixed, until his attention returned to the bones.

He crouched and met the hollow gaze of the skull. The eye sockets were pure black. No glimmer, no trace of what once lived there.

One boney hand dangled beneath the table, still gripping an antique revolver. The finger rested on the trigger. In its other hand, which was resting atop the massive tome, was a black notebook that time seemed to have overlooked.

As he picked it up, the bones crumbled in his hand.

He flipped through the pages until he reached the last.

The myths were all true. The book is in fact evil incarnate.

It has taken me months of research and study, but I’ve finally confirmed it—this is the ill-fated Ala Azif. Why have I been so cursed as to actually find the damned thing? Of course, I went looking for it. But we all thought it was just a myth. A curiosity to occupy our minds and pad our wallets.

But here it is, in my possession. And here I am, with a gun in my hand.

If you let it, it will take everything from you—just to watch you squirm. Your dreams, your sanity, your life—they’re all forfeit the moment you open this book. Your reality will no longer belong to you, but to the sleeping gods who helped pen this damnable thing.

I sit in my house writing this with nothing left in the world. My family is dead, taken from me by… things. I can’t shake the feeling the book was responsible.

But if I told anyone, they’d lock me in a padded cell. Fill me with chemicals. Break me for real.

So instead, I’ll join my poor family in the hereafter. And hope God shows mercy, despite my meddling.

Don’t open this book. It brings evil and destruction. All will be lost…

Franklin

Ben frowned. “Suicide, huh?”

Still holding the journal, he examined the skull again. A gaping hole ran from the mouth through the back of the head, evidence of the fatal shot. A matching crater marked the wall behind it. Suddenly self-conscious, Ben withdrew his hand from the remains.

Turning away, he returned to the massive book and stared down at it. He exhaled hard, sending a cloud of dust into the air. The brown leather revealed its deep grain beneath the debris, and the emblem gleamed with new detail. He brushed the cover clean, tracing the interwoven lines and circles of the cold bronze sigil until his finger reached the latch.

He hesitated.

The warning rang in his mind.

But how serious could it be? It was just a book.

He took a breath. Then turned the lock.

With a click, the latch popped open and dropped onto the table.

Ben couldn’t help himself. He had to know what was inside.

Superstition and belief had fascinated him since childhood. His father had filled his shelves with old archaeology texts and encyclopedias, and they’d read them together. He set the flashlight down and opened the book.

The heavy cover slammed against the table. Each yellowed page rasped like parchment as he turned them with deliberate care. Strange symbols and illustrations greeted him—languages he couldn’t recognize, drawings of creatures that defied anatomy, and rituals whose purpose he could only guess at.

Then he saw it.

One symbol, alone on a page, held his gaze. His mind froze. The image pulsed softly. Was it an illusion? Maybe, but it tugged at something deep and ancient inside him. A sound crept into the back of his mind, quiet at first, then rising—a whisper, a murmur, then a chant, roaring behind his eyes.

A vision surged through him.

And then, clarity.

Moving like a sleepwalker, Ben returned to the bones and picked up the loose fingers, laying them out on the table. He searched through the crates until he found a ceramic mortar and pestle, then brought them to the table. He dropped the finger bones inside, ground them into a fine meal, and poured the remains into his hand.

Muttering a word he didn’t recognize, he blew the bone dust into the air.

The powder swirled, then coalesced. It gathered into the shape of a man.

First came limbs. Then the torso. Then a head.

A white silhouette stood before him, powdery and incomplete, yet somehow sentient. Its features were mere impressions, and its expressions barely moved in the dusty glow.

“Why does it hurt here?” it asked, its voice broken and echoing, like memory filtered through static.

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Terra Incognita: The Abyss (Re-Explored Edition) – Chapter Three

The Dead Man’s Ghost

Pulled out of his trance, Ben stood without a word. There, within a few feet of him, was a ghost—a ghost that he had summoned. Frozen by the weight of his own accomplishment, Ben stood there staring. The man before him, who could be none other than Franklin, examined his new state for a moment before turning his attention back to the stunned boy. Ben didn’t know what to do.

“I was somewhere else, somewhere… more peaceful. Why have you brought me back to this place?” he asked. Despite its faded features, the feelings of pain and disgust were scrawled across the ghost’s face

“I don’t know,” Ben stammered, words fumbling from his lips.

He started to explain, but his hands just waved around as he failed to put it all into words.

“Take a breath, boy.”

“The book… I don't know, the next thing I knew, I had your bones and then I watched you appear.”

He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.

Suddenly, his chest tightened and Ben couldn’t breathe. The wall was at his back and the ghost was in front. With nowhere to run, he backed against the cool concrete wall. Stuck in the corner with the ghost in front of him, Ben knew there was no more retreat. With no other options, he sat down, tightening himself into a ball.

Dread took over Ben’s mind as he watched the shade approach him. Lost in a second that churned on forever, he did what he could to hold on to stay calm. His palms were sweating as he balled up tighter. Ben didn’t know whether to cry or laugh as the shade inched closer to him. As the pressure built and became overwhelming, he finally exploded in a scream.

“Stop!” he said, halting Franklin where he stood. “Just stop! Give me a second to breathe; to think.” He forced the words out under duress. Ben took a deep breath and expelled it in one slow exhale. As the feeling in his arms began to return, bringing the sensation of needles in his hands and fingers, he realized how numb they had become. “I’m sorry, the book…I didn’t mean to.”

“The book?” the ghost asked, with a distraught look. “The Ala Azif? Please, tell me that’s not the book you speak of.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” Ben said.

The ghost floated over to the open book and looked down on the page that was exposed before him.

“I don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” he said, with his hand pushed through the tome.

The bone meal that now formed his body collected on the page in a pile as he reached through it. When he pulled back, his hand took its gray shape again. He held it up and examined it with newfound curiosity.

“My name is Franklin. I wrote this journal,” he said, pointing at the small notebook on the table. “Did you not read my warning? Or were you just too cynical to take it to heart?” The ghost looked at the cowering boy and frowned. “I have no intention of hurting you. Please, stand.”

Ben looked up, desperate to believe what Franklin was telling him. Forcing the fear and worry away, he stood with reluctance, hoping the immediate threat was gone. With one hand on the wall behind him at all times, he stared at the unthinkable before him.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” the ghost said, his voice low and slow as if trying to bring the boy some amount of comfort. Keeping his distance, Franklin paused, seeing that the boy was terrified.

“You said you were in pain. What did you mean by that?” Ben asked. His voice lacked confidence, but his own curiosity had won through, forcing the words past his lips.

“Yes, existence is painful indeed. It’s been a very long time since I’ve felt anything and now, here I am. It seems dramatic, but I feel like a newborn, thrust into the world of feelings again. When you are used to death, life becomes…painful,” Franklin said.

The words bore an unwavering truth that struck home with the boy. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Ben asked. The sadness in his voice was more prevalent than the fear. His own anxiety was now replaced by the sorrow he felt for the suffering being before him.

“It’s done, and I don’t think there is anything we can do about it. The book has chosen you, like it chose me,” Franklin said.

This comment grabbed Ben, causing him to let his guard down a little more. “What do you mean?”

“As I’m sure you understand now, this book is more than just ink on paper. It’s a powerful manuscript filled with all the darkest magic known to man. It was written by a man who traveled his entire life searching through every profane crevice he could find in order to discover the black secrets of the world. It has power beyond measure…” Franklin’s voice faded as he trailed off into thought.

“Anyway,” Franklin said, snapping back. “I found it in the year nineteen eleven, while on an expedition through eastern Europe. We learned of a cult named Tento Stary Múdrosti living in a small village near the Carpathian Mountains. They believed in sleeping gods and a cosmic consciousness that we are all tapped into. They used blood and sacrifice to perform the magic of the ancient gods they worshiped. Their rituals were grotesque and inhumane, to say the least. In our studies we learned of a book they used in their rituals; it was said to be older than any known manuscript. After many years of scouring the globe in search of a clue, the body of a man named Daniel Stevens was found with a journal. We didn’t think anything of it until the coroner's examination was released. Demonic symbols were carved into his skin, and we were asked to help the police understand what they meant. They gave us the journal willingly and to our surprise, it gave us all the information we needed to find the village and begin our stakeout."

“How can a book be evil?” the boy asked.

“I don’t know, but I have felt its power, and it was worth killing myself to keep it hidden away,” the ghost said with a stern expression.

“I’m sorry. If I had known I wouldn’t have come down here,” Ben said.

“Of course you wouldn’t have, but that isn’t how it worked out. Now, we have a real problem. I studied the book for years before I finally turned the gun on myself-”

The words made both of them pause for a moment, reflecting in the horror of it. Ben was left with a chill that forced an uncontrollable shake to creep over his shoulders.

“The book spoke of a second world close to this one. A world where things like magic and...ghosts are possible,” he said, looking down like it couldn‘t be true. “This world is the foundation of every myth there is. The stories we know all existed at one time, but were cut off from this world by an unknown event. It’s explained that this…schism is the reason we don’t see miracles any more, why magic and legendary creatures are no longer present, and mythical heroes aren’t more than just stories.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding,” Ben said. This interruption stopped the ghost cold. He looked at the boy in disbelief. “Look, it’s hard enough for me to believe in ghosts, but now you are telling me that Hercules and the tooth fairy are real? What’s next, Santa Claus?”

“In a manner of speaking, but these are extremes. I didn’t believe it at first myself, being an atheist, but then I didn’t believe in ghosts either. It’s not the iconic images you know that are real, but rather the foundation of these myths. Everything comes from something, Ben.”

“Okay, so it’s not Hercules that exists there, but rather the person who inspired the story? Is that right?”

“Correct. The schism separated our worlds so that humans would be free from these beings. Free to live their own lives, outside of the influence of these godlike creatures,” Franklin said.

“So, this schism; who or what caused it?” Ben asked.

“That question is beyond my understanding. All I know is what I’ve seen and what I’ve read in the book. The book, it almost speaks to you,” Franklin said as he stared at it with a strange intent in his eyes. It seemed to draw him in as Ben stood there watching.

“So, say I choose to believe you. I mean, unless I’m insane, you are a ghost. That isn’t something I normally thought was possible,” Ben said. His fear had relented a bit, giving him enough confidence to step away from the wall, but not much more than that.

“The schism was created for a reason; to keep the wonders of the other world away from ours. A doorway has been opened and now you must close it,” Franklin said, his eyes still transfixed.

“Why didn’t you destroy the book?” Ben said. The accusation in his voice didn’t miss its mark.

“You don’t think I tried?” Franklin retaliated. The blatant anger was clear on his ethereal face.

“Okay, I’m sorry! So what do we do?” Ben asked. His posture changed, a defeated slouch replacing the confident stance.

“The book discusses the process in great detail. The first thing it says is to find the Sphinx and solve the riddle. When it was my responsibility, I wasn’t strong enough to complete this task, and gave up. I never even tried. After years of searching, I couldn’t handle the reality of such a creature. I was afraid.” Franklin walked back over to the tome. He flipped through the pages, which seemed to be moved by wind rather than his physical touch.

“A Sphinx?”

“The Sphinx is a renowned gatekeeper in mythology. It’s no surprise that it would be one here as well. Listen to me! You have a unique opportunity; I can help you. The riddle doesn’t have to be solved. The book only says that a sacrifice must be made to stave off the creature’s hunger. Do you have a cat, or any other sort of pet?” Franklin asked.

“No, and even if I did, I wouldn’t let you feed it to some…creature,” Ben said, looking a little horrified.

“Hmm, I don’t know then. I guess your only chance is to solve the riddle. It doesn’t say much on that—”

“Wait, how do I even find this thing?” Ben interrupted.

“It says here that you go to a high point and search for a dark corner, so thick with shadow that it creates a false sense of depth. Say the word ‘Shirak’ and then step into it. This should take you to the Phoenix’s cave where the Sphinx now resides.”

“That doesn’t make sense, though, because I haven’t stepped into this other world yet,” Ben said.

Franklin looked amused by Ben’s puzzled look. “No, you haven’t, but the book opened the doorway when you unlocked it. It’s a force that pulls you in. You felt its grab, didn’t you? It drew your attention in until you were powerless to control yourself.”

“It was something like that. Summoning you was never my intention, but somehow I knew it was happening. I didn’t know what to expect or what I was doing. It was like sleepwalking,” Ben said.

The old ghost smiled, as if he could tell that Ben was starting to understand. He pressed on. “You are the keeper of the book now. It has chosen you. It’s your duty to…” Franklin trailed off as he read from the book. “To find the rite that will close this world off from ours.”

“That’s not right. It can’t be that easy,” Ben said, walking up to look over Franklin’s shoulder.

“You’re right, it’s not. You only opened the doorway in the first place because it allowed you to. It says right here”—tracing with his finger—“that you have to master the book itself to unlock its secrets.”

“This is bullshit! I didn’t choose any of this!” Ben erupted.

Franklin turned around and made stern eye contact with the upset boy. “No, you didn’t! Unfortunately, you have no choice in this matter, and I think it’s time you stopped being a child and got started.” The ghost turned back to the book.

Ben was about to say something, but gave up. He turned away from Franklin and the book, and started to walk out of the room.

“Ben, one more thing. Before you need to go, you need something personal to take with you. An item to-” the ghost's eyes drifted off as he tried to think of the word. “Anchor you. It doesn’t matter what. Just something important to you.”

Franklin turned his attention back to the book, not expecting a response from Ben.

As he left, his thoughts spiraled. None of it made sense. Was this ghost really his only option?

The pressure built in his chest like a vice. He wanted to run, to scream, to disappear, but there was nowhere left to go. No choices.

All he could do now was follow the ghost’s instructions, and pray they led somewhere other than ruin.

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Terra Incognita: The Abyss (Re-Explored Edition) – Chapter Four

The Offering

The stairs felt steeper under the weight of everything he didn’t want to face. He didn’t know what to do. Standing in the massive foyer, Ben examined the long haul up the three flights of stairs to the attic—the highest point he knew of without getting on the roof. He hadn’t visited in a while because the room itself was unsettling. The cramped space was always too dark, despite the lights that hung from the ceiling.

“I’ve cracked. This is it. I’ve lost it.”

His trembling hands were sweaty and cold.

The idea of being insane bothered him more than all of it being real. Without looking at the hole in the floor, he rushed up the stairs toward his room on the second floor. Denial was his only shield from what was happening to him.

He slammed his bedroom door shut and rested upon it for a moment, catching what breath he could. The click of the lock calmed him enough that he finally abandoned the false safety behind the door and went over to his cluttered desk. Pulling out the chair, he sat down in front of the computer monitor and hit the power switch. While the PC whirled to life, he picked up the phone and dialed his mother’s cell number.

Pulling the receiver up to his ear, he waited with little patience for only a few moments before giving up. The silence on the other end was louder than any scream.

He tried twice more before throwing the phone. The plastic shattered like teeth against the wall and rained down onto the carpet. The phone was broken, and he didn’t feel any better. Smart.

“Where the hell are you?”

The computer beeped on with confidence, grabbing Ben’s attention. Using the mouse, he clicked on the little earth icon to pull up the Internet. Four windows opened up at once, but each one had the same bad news. No connection. His heart sank.

He had lost complete contact with the outside world. The crushing realization that he was alone came down on him all at once. He was just a kid. What was he supposed to do? He knew crying wasn’t the best decision for someone his age, but it was becoming an option.

Scared and alone, he sat at his desk, weighing his options. Going backwards wasn’t possible, and if there was any hope of getting out of this, forward seemed to be his only choice.

Opening the desk drawer, he pulled out a small medallion with a three legged crow on it. Of all the things he had, this was the only thing he really cared about. The weight in his hand brought memories of his grandfather and how he had wanted to see Ben become a man. They had been friends when Ben was growing up and losing him had been devastating.

As he sat there looking down at the symbol engraved on it, he thought about what Grandpa Jack would have done in that situation. How he would act if faced with something so big. He would have marched forward with courage like he did in the war.

Placing the round memento in his pocket, Ben stood up with a bit more courage than before. He grabbed a four-inch pocket knife from the top drawer. It snapped open, fitting with perfect ease against the contour of his palm and fingers. He closed it and put it in his pocket. With his memento, and a weapon, he left.

The attic was strange with all of its abandoned nostalgic treasures stored away. There were so many relics from his life as he passed through the room on his way to the back where the small light bulb’s illumination couldn’t reach.

Like the past itself, these items were hidden from the present in order to keep the previous life's memories at bay. His family had given up on these things in order to move forward with their lives. Pictures and trinkets filled up box after box, creating a museum of wasted sentiment for Ben to maneuver through.

A constant cold breeze hit him in the face as he got closer to the back. The air was different the further he got from the door. There was fresh air coming from somewhere in the darkness while the rest of the attic seemed stale and sour. The dread crept up behind him as he moved.

While moving in the darkness, something sticky touched his arm. His hand was covered in webbing. Ben swung his arm, trying to bring down as much webbing as he could. It clung to his skin and clothes. Spiders were probably crawling on him now.

He knew he had found the corner because there was a static darkness before him. It was unlike anything he had seen before. It shimmered like oil, almost liquid in how it moved.

“This has to be it.”

“What was the word again? Something with an S. Sira Sirat…”

“Shirak.” The words left his lips as the magic came over him.

At that moment, the shadows opened and a small light the size of a coin appeared in the blackness. He didn’t know why, but instead of the knife, he took the coin from his pocket and clenched it tight. He stepped through the small gap, trying not to trip and fall and found himself standing in golden sand.

Its beautiful reflective gleam helped him see as he walked through the cramped passage. The walls began to turn from hard gray stone to brilliant specks of crystal that caught the light. Ben came to a large cavern with a high ceiling. Behind him, the attic entrance had disappeared; leaving only the thick void he had just fumbled through.

The tall ceiling was rough and craggy with veins of crystal running across it. Specks of light reflected off the minerals in the rock, creating a starry night across the cave’s ceiling. The golden sand on the floor settled under his feet as he stepped further into the glistening grotto.

To his left was a large conical fire that almost touched the ceiling. Its powerful heat was enough to singe the hair off any man’s face, something inside the flame grabbed his attention. With his arm up to shield his face, he approached the intense blaze to investigate the four black dots in the center. There, within an impossible reach, and glowing red hot, were four egg-shaped stones.

“Curious being, the Phoenix,” said a voice to Ben’s immediate left. He jerked around and there, on a ledge at eye level, was a creature with its head tucked under a wing of iridescent feathers. It revealed its feline head as it stretched with its front paws out and its back legs up. Thin, fine grooves were left in the stone where the creature’s claws scraped it with razor sharpness. Ben took a cautious step back, keeping the fire between them.

“A-are you the Sphinx?” Ben asked, with a noticeable stutter in his voice.

He didn’t need an answer. The creature before him was a beautiful mixture of cat, human, and bird, taking all the best qualities of each. Its regal presence was seen most in how well groomed it was. Pristine feathers. Glossy fur. It radiated a regal, unnatural grace. That creature could only be the Sphinx.

“The bird lives its life, born from the flame, and then when it’s time to give birth, it returns to the flame to incubate its young. They are truly amazing and can be quite tasty if you can catch them between each transformation,” the Sphinx said, flashing a toothy grin. It got up and started moving around in catlike fashion. It scratched the fur on its neck against the sharp edge of the wall and purred a bit as it did.

Ben stepped to the side as the Sphinx moved closer. Ben stumbled backwards and pulled his knife with the grace of a startled dog.

“Stay back.”

Ben knew that if he could keep the flame between them, he might have a chance at escape if it decided to eat him. It wasn’t the best plan, but he couldn’t think with his heart beating in his ears. Every instinct screamed: Run!

A blade? How boring. Put it away. I can only eat if the riddle isn’t solved. You can wield your little knife then. Would you like to hear the riddle?” it asked with that same devious grin. “You don’t seem very bright, so I’m going to offer you another deal. Bring me a worthy offering, and I’ll reward you.”

The Sphinx glared into the fire at the eggs.

“Um, what’s… your name?” Ben asked, trying to lighten the mood as he tried to unlock the blade so he could close it. His hands were shaking, but he finally managed it.

“Name? Hmmm.” The creature paused with a distant look on its face. It was obvious that most visitors didn’t entertain such candor with the being.

“I…I’m not sure; it’s been so long since I’ve had visitors and even longer since anyone’s asked that, if ever. I seem to have forgotten if I ever even had one to start with. Either way, it’s not important to the matter at hand. Now, my proposal?”

“I don’t know if I should,” Ben said.

“Take some time to think. To consider,” the Sphinx said, before curling up in a ball to sleep. It lifted its head once more and said, “I have eternity, but do hurry. Hunger doesn’t go away on its own.”

Feeling a bit more comfortable with the creature resting, Ben wandered around the lair a bit. The cold breeze that had led him there was coming from the entrance of the cave where the phoenix had laid its eggs.

He looked out across a massive range of sierras that stretched on past the horizon. The tall mountain peaks were jagged, like the bent teeth of a busted saw blade, and the ground below was obscured by a blanket of thick clouds. Ben, taken aback by the scene, felt his chest tighten at the sheer height. With an immense sense of awe and a small helping of fear, he stood there watching as creatures with immeasurable wing spans flew across the sky out in the distance.

“How is this possible?” Ben asked.

“How is anything possible?” the Sphinx replied, appearing next to him. It preened, as if reveling in its ambiguous response.

The amazing creatures were unlike anything Ben had ever imagined. They were reminiscent of dragons, but with almost no neck and a leathery hide where scales should have been. Their mouths were beaks, ending in sharp points that glistened in the sun every time they shifted in flight. The grace they exhibited was unlike any bird, as they flipped and turned so quickly it was almost too hard to keep up with them. Ben stood there for a moment in silence and watched as the large winged animals soared through the air competing in mock battles, fighting and releasing before any real damage could be done. They were living swords, slicing and jutting through the air as though it were a simple task anyone could complete.

“I’ve never seen anything like these creatures,” Ben said.

The Sphinx looked up at him with a smug smile and asked, “But you’ve seen something like me before?”

“That’s not what I meant. I’ve seen Sphinx statues before and other creatures in books, but never anything quite like this,” Ben said, squinting against the sun. Suddenly, one of the creatures took a dive and soared down, landing on a plateau below. He watched as little specks that could only be people approached and bound it with rope. It put up little fight as they captured and restrained it.

“What’s that down there?” he asked, pointing. On the plateau were large pointed buildings that were barely visible through the low-hanging clouds. It was an entire city masked by the thick haze that clung to the mountains. The people scrambled to subdue the creature as Ben and the Sphinx watched. They heard a loud screech as the beast was forced into submission.

“Eh, those sorcerers are at it again. It's tragic, but it doesn’t bother me much. Those damn wyverns are bothersome and often defecate on my perch here,” the Sphinx said.

“The sorcerers have tried on more than one occasion to get up here to me, but they always fail. I guess you could call them collectors, or even preservers, but I call them trophy hunters. Granted, they don’t kill all the creatures they trap, but that glorified prison isn’t much better, if you ask me.”

“They want to capture you?” Ben asked.

“Something like that. Now, don’t bother yourself with Leng, or those incessant necromancers. They’re just a bunch of overly self-important wizards trying to figure out the secrets of the universe. They should know that anything worth knowing can only be learned from a good riddle. Speaking of, there is the matter of my empty stomach at hand and that is a much more pressing issue.”

The Sphinx turned and made its way back inside the cave. Ben stayed behind, watching as the other wyverns circled. They flew around as if aware that their friend was being pulled into a building, clawing and screaming for its life. His chest tightened. He couldn’t watch anymore.

Ben knew it was the riddle or the eggs. The Sphinx had made it clear what it wanted. It didn’t care about the eggs. Not until they were ready. That’s why it waited up there.

Even though the eggs were surrounded by fire, Ben’s only option was to come up with a way to get one to the sphinx. Shuffling around the room looking for answers, Ben almost tripped over something buried in the sand. There, below him, was a bleached white skull covered by the sparkling granules. Curious, he dusted it off and saw that it was accompanied by even more remains just beneath the surface. It became obvious that these must have been the leftovers from the creature’s kills. Digging the bones out gave Ben an idea.

It was either offer an egg, or fight with his knife. The decision was made for him.

Bending over, Ben grabbed large handfuls of the golden sand, but the granules rushed from his palms almost as fast as he could scoop them up. After thinking for a second, Ben removed his shirt, set it on the ground, and started covering it with sand. Once full, he picked it up and dumped the sand over the fire. Its flames were reduced, but not doused. He continued the process, working as fast as he could. As he smothered the blaze, a loud screech emitted from it as though it were a living entity. The molten sand was working.

Thinking fast, he rushed over and grabbed a bone from one of the Sphinx’s unfortunate victims. After dumping even more sand over the fire, he used the bone to push one of the eggs out of the flames, just in time for the fire to erupt anew. The heat seared his hand before he could pull away.

“Ah,” he yelled, yanking his hand back on instinct.

“Oh, how fortunate for you. The flames of the Phoenix are far less forgiving than the heat they put off,” the Sphinx said. It approached with a bounce in its step that portrayed the creature’s amusement in Ben’s misfortune.

“How about that riddle now?”

“You said if I fed you, you would reward me,” Ben said.

“Did I? I’m not sure I remember that,” it said with a mischievous grin.

“Of course, I can’t believe I trusted you,” Ben said.

“You know how to ruin someone’s fun, don’t you?” the Sphinx said.

With a wave of its paw, it procured a key from thin air and held it in Ben’s face.

“Do you want it?” it asked.

“A key? That’s it? After everything?” Ben asked.

The Sphinx blinked, bemused by the boy’s lack of wonder.

“A key can be very useful for someone in your position. Don’t turn your nose up to a gift.”

“This isn’t a gift. I worked for it,” Ben said, stepping forward.

With a snide look, he handed it to Ben, making sure to reach out to his injured hand. Ben looked at the golden object for a moment with suspicion in his eyes.

His skin burned as he grabbed the key. The prize in his hand hadn’t lived up to his expectations. He hadn’t expected to feel this hollow.

“You look disappointed,” the Sphinx said.

“I didn’t know what to expect, I guess. I’m gonna leave now. Our business is done,” Ben said, taking a backwards step toward the hole he had come through.

“Very well, off with you,” the Sphinx said, waving his paw in an irritated manner. “Come back if you want that riddle.”

Ben put the key in the pocket of his jeans and took off for the exit, not missing a stride. The catlike face betrayed its own curiosity as it wandered over to the egg and with a swipe, cracked open the fragile shell.The wet, sloppy slurping sounds of its tongue lapping at the liquid contents filled the chamber as Ben left. He needed to leave before his stomach turned.

In a way, he felt bad for what he had done. He’d eaten eggs before, but a phoenix wasn’t the same thing as a chicken. Something in him twisted. If this was step one, what would step ten look like?

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Terra Incognita: The Abyss (Re-Explored Edition) – Chapter Five

At The Mouth Of The Abyss

Ben stopped at the top of the stairs. Nothing about what had just happened made sense. He leaned against the banister to catch his breath.

The empty house felt spooky as he walked down the stairs. At night, there were always weird sounds that his parents called “settling,” but the recent events made him wonder. All those bumps and bangs. Were they ghosts? Weird monsters in the attic?

Regardless, there was an apparent change in the air. Was it him, or was it something else?

The air was stale and the light coming from the fixtures was dulled, like something was feeding off its power. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but everything was different. Like seeing your reflection reversed for the first time. So many questions plagued his mind as he stepped down into the basement. It was best to put them away for now and focus.

When Ben stepped into the secret room below the stairs, he saw Franklin’s ethereal form standing in front of a box. His gaze was fixed on a painting that had been stored in one of the crates. Ben walked behind him and saw that it was an oil portrait of a beautiful woman sitting in an elegant gown. She wore no smile or frown, just an unreadable Mona Lisa stare. Her hair was golden brown and her complexion was fair from the thick make up she wore.

“My beautiful wife,” the ghost said. “I can’t believe this is still here, but then again, I can’t believe this room has been sealed off since I…” His voice trailed off.

“She is very beautiful,” Ben said, not sure what else to say.

“I built this house and had this painting done for her thirtieth birthday, so that it would immortalize her beauty forever. Like many women, that was her main concern as she got older. As you can tell, she didn’t want for much, as I provided plenty,” he said, pointing out the wealth he felt the house represented. "I loved her with all of my heart, but in the end I failed her. If she hadn’t died, I’d never have turned to the book. Now look at me, trapped between life and…

Then, almost to himself, he said, “For a moment, I actually thought I could use the book to bring her back...like you did to me. But I already feel my essence dissolving. I will cease once again when you take the book with you. Who knows what black oblivion awaits.” Franklin said.

“Let’s not dwell on that now,” Ben said, trying to keep both of their minds off the wretched truth they surely faced. “If what you say is true, then we have no choice.”

“Yes, you are right,” the ghost said, still glaring at the painting. The ghost did his best to say goodbye to the past. Reluctant to move, Ben gave Franklin a moment before beckoning him over to the table.

The heavy key clattered against the wood as Ben dropped it from his hand.. Still starry-eyed with nostalgia, the ghost snapped out of it as the sound resonated through the room.

“The key…” Franklin said.

“So you knew?”

“Yes. The book shows the door. The key opens it. The Phoenix’s cave was merely the precipice of your journey. Funny, but you could see your destination in the distance. The plateau, where the necromancers live. You must take the book there.”

Ben’s eyes drifted towards the floor as he remembered the wyvern and its captors. That plateau might as well have been on another planet where he stood on that perch.

“Once we open the doorway, you won’t have long. You will need to leap into the passage to get to the other side.” As he spoke, Franklin started flipping through the pages until he found the right one.

“I don’t understand,” Ben said. “Why are we opening this door, if my goal is to close it?”

“Maybe door isn’t the right word,” Franklin said, turning towards the boy. “The book can be difficult to translate at times. Um… it’s a rip or a tear between the two realms with one spilling over into the other. This door before you is your passage to this other world, where you will find someone who can teach you about the book.”

“Why can’t you teach me?” Ben asked.

“Oh, my poor boy. I know so little. I understand only a fraction, and every time I learn something new, it becomes apparent how little I really know.”

Ben ran his fingers through his hair as he let out a low sigh. “Well, damn,” he said.

“I concur,” Franklin said, picking up the book.

“Look here,” he said, presenting a hand drawn diagram in the book.

“The separation of the two worlds left a great abyss in its wake. Our mundane world, and the ineffable on.You will have to cross this abyss to get there. Once there, you will need to find someone who knows the book. Someone who can teach you about the spells inside of it.”

“But I…” Ben said. “I’m afraid.”

“It’s okay, son. I’m afraid too,” Franklin said, turning away from the book, revealing the sympathy on his face. “But you need to know that we should be afraid, Ben. You should sit down, child.”

“I’m not a child.”

“Then listen like a man,” Franklin said, more gently than before. “You are tied to this book. I don’t know how, but your life has become bound to it. It's a parasite and when you used it, it crawled its way in. You can’t walk away from it.”

Ben sat motionless, struggling to grasp the weight of it all. A parasite? Turning back definitely wasn’t an option,but moving forward felt impossible. Panic set in. The weight was too much. A tear escaped from his eye, but he wiped it from his face before Franklin could see it.

Franklin gave the boy a few minutes to stew before walking over. In a calm voice he asked, “Are you ready?”

Ben nodded and stood up, despite the turning feeling in his stomach. He felt sick, a feeling that only worsened when the carpet that covered the floor was pulled away. The floor was covered in an intricate occult symbol that must have taken an obsessed mind to complete. In the middle was a bare circle with a keyhole drawn in chalk in the middle.

“I drew this before I truly understood what I was doing,” Franklin said. “I thought I was doing a good thing; who wouldn’t want to see their wife again. I’m sorry I dragged you into this. If I could change it-. I hope you can forgive me one day.”

“Let's just do this, already,” Ben said, pulling the key out.

He pressed the key into the chalk-drawn lock. It slid in with unnatural ease. He turned it.

The circle in the middle dissolved into shadow. No light, no floor, no ceiling, and no other side. Just an infinite abyss, as Franklin had told him to expect. His eyes couldn’t understand what they were looking at. The fear that once gripped him was gone, because there, before him, was nothing to be afraid of. Something in his mind understood on a subconscious level.

Franklin looked over Ben’s shoulder into the abyss.

“I need to ask something of you, and I need to know that you are a man of your word when I ask this.”

“When you get to the plateau, free my wife. Her remains were taken.”

“Okay, I will.” Ben said, although the response seemed too simplistic

“Is that a promise?” Franklin asked.

“Yes, I promise! I will do everything I can to bring her to rest for you.”

“Thank you.” Franklin said. The vacuum seemed to suck the sound of his voice into the void, along with the meal that made up his form. “Are we ready?”

“Do we have a choice?” Ben asked, louder than necessary

“No, we don’t. Look behind you, you’ve already taken the leap. You just don’t know it yet.” Franklin said.

Around them, a twisted shadow crawled across the walls of the room, like diabolic tendrils. Everything it touched was obscured by darkness as it devoured every bit of light. It consumed everything it covered, leaving an opening into a black eternity.

“Can’t you come with me?” Ben asked, fear in his hesitation.

“I’m already fading, Ben. Godspeed.”

Franklin’s form was torn apart as Ben jumped into the abyss.

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