The Voice Between Worlds
I don't know how long I was unconscious.
Time stretched into something that wasn't time anymore—just a soft expanse of black shot through with streaks of silver.
Somewhere beyond it, I felt the moon watching me.
And behind the moon, I sensed something vaster—an ocean of patterns, voices, memories that weren't mine but felt like they always had been.
When I tried to open my eyes, they wouldn't move.
A voice drifted out of the dark, calm and infinitely patient:
"When connecting to the moon and the stars, you can see it all before you drop in from the fifth dimension."
The words sank into me like seeds in soft soil.
In that instant, I glimpsed it—
Everything.
Thousands of lives, thousands of transformations.
Humanoids and not.
Civilizations rising and collapsing.
Parasites in suits calling themselves leaders.
There were also worthy entities—beings who embodied the best aspects of counterbalance and existence.
The ones who tried to heal what was being destroyed.
The ones who had always been there—quiet, steady, unbought.
And underneath it all—the hidden lattice of real knowledge waiting for anyone with the nerve to look.
The vision flickered, splintered—
And then I fell.
I woke with a ragged gasp.
Cold air hit my skin, and I realized I was lying on my side in a hollow between the roots of an enormous tree.
The forest was quiet except for the wind.
Above me, the moon hung low and white.
For a moment, I couldn't remember my name.
Then it floated up through the static in my head:
"My name…"
I swallowed, my throat raw.
"My name is… is…"
It felt thin when I said it—like a sticker someone slapped onto a shape they didn't understand.
I sat up, arms wrapped around my knees. My skin was streaked in dirt and old blood.
For a moment, I couldn't remember who I was.
Then the pieces came drifting back, like scraps of paper caught on the wind.
"My name…"
I swallowed, my throat raw.
"My name is Marcus," I whispered.
The word felt thin. Like a label someone had glued onto a shape they didn't understand.
"My government name," I muttered. "That's what it is. A placeholder."
I let out a shaky breath, staring at my hands—human, but only barely.
"I thought that's all I was," I said to the dark. "Just a humanoid body."
But the memory of her black eyes told me I was wrong.
I looked up, voice steadying.
"My government name," I muttered to no one. "That's what it is. Just a placeholder. I thought that's all I was—a humanoid body."
My voice shook.
"But that wasn't even true, was it?"
I rubbed my face, trying to steady my breathing.
"I want to know more."
Leaves crunched nearby.
I looked up.
She was standing there again, clothed now—her silhouette wrapped in the long coat she'd discarded before the change.
Her black eyes watched me without blinking.
"What's your name?" I asked.
My voice cracked on the question.
Leaves crunched nearby.
She stepped out of the darkness, wrapped in the long coat she'd discarded before the transformation.
Her black eyes fixed on mine.
I swallowed.
"What's your name?" I asked.
The question felt enormous—like I was asking for more than a word.
She regarded me for a moment, then answered simply:
"You can call me Eshara."
She paused.
"It's not the only name I've had, but it's the one I'll give you."
I repeated it under my breath:
"Eshara."
Somehow, the syllables fit the shape of her—elegant, old, impossible.
For a heartbeat, she said nothing.
Then she spoke in that same measured tone:
"If you want to go back to the humanoid civilization," she said, "you'll have to do it exactly as you are."
I frowned.
"What do you mean—?"
She lifted one hand, palm facing me.
"You destroyed your clothes when you transformed," she said. "Intentionally."
My gaze dropped.
It was only then that I really registered it:
I was completely naked.
Heat crawled up my throat, but she didn't look away.
"There is no instantly perfect humanoid body," she continued, "no matter what the oligarchs taught you. It's never been about that. It's about what you do with the body while you have it."
She knelt to gather the last of her garments—a pale bra and a folded pair of underwear.
She slipped them on with the same deliberate calm she'd shown taking them off.
Her coat settled over her shoulders, dark against her fur where it hadn't fully receded.
I hugged my knees tighter.
"I don't understand," I whispered.
"You will," she said.
"If you follow me."
She stood again, her expression unchanged.
"There are more like you," she said softly. "More with bodies that were never entirely humanoid. More who woke up too late, or not at all."
My throat felt dry as dust.
"Why me?"
She tilted her head just slightly.
"Because you were already sensing it," she said. "You just couldn't articulate it until your senses caught up with the already existing insights."
I blinked, my heartbeat thudding.
"What insights?"
She raised one hand, her claws retracted now, her fingers perfectly human.
"The tangible truths that are unseen," she said. "The ones waiting to be reabsorbed, rediscovered. They're already here. Always have been."
She lowered her hand.
"You can make them yours," she said. "If you improve your ability to figure out where to look—and align yourself to receive them."
My mouth was dry.
"What do you want from me?"
A shadow of something—approval, maybe—passed across her face.
"I want you to help."
She took a single step closer.
"In exchange, I'll help you get power," she said simply. "Real power. The kind you've felt since you were small. The purpose you knew you had but never named."
Her gaze never wavered.
"Because the more you find, the more you absorb," she continued, "the more you can use. The more you can reclaim."
She glanced down at my bare legs, then back at my face.
"But right now," she said, "you are naked."
My ears burned.
"You will follow me," she finished, "into the woods. You will travel with me across the continent."
She paused.
"And when night comes, you will transform again."
Her eyes glinted in the moonlight—deep black, endless.
"I will guide you to the place," she said. "Where the others are."
For a long moment, neither of us moved.
The wind stirred the leaves around us, carrying the scent of something older than time.
I drew a shaky breath.
And then, without really meaning to, I stood up.
The cold wrapped around me, sharp as a blade.
I met her eyes.
And nodded.