Self

The air in the submarine felt thick, almost unbreathable, as if the walls themselves were closing in on us. The usual hum of machinery was too quiet, like the submarine itself was holding its breath. It was the kind of silence that didn’t feel empty—it felt alive. Heavy. Watching.

I stood in the control room, my hands gripping the edge of the console, trying to steady myself. Mira sat across from me, her fingers twitching against the surface of her tablet as she pretended to focus on the endless streams of data. Adrian was absent, locked away in the decontamination room, his distorted face burned into my memory. Even now, I could hear faint echoes of his voice, pleading, snarling, something inhuman clawing at his words.

Light hadn’t spoken to me directly since Adrian’s fall, but his presence was stronger than ever. I could feel him. Not in my mind this time—but in the submarine itself, like he was part of the very metal around us.

The lights flickered, pulling me from my thoughts. Mira glanced up, her face pale. “Did you feel that?”

I nodded, my pulse quickening. “It’s him.”

Before Mira could respond, the submarine jolted violently, throwing us both to the floor. A deafening groan echoed through the vessel, the sound of steel bending under immense pressure. The emergency lights kicked on, casting the room in a sickly red glow.

“What the hell is happening?” Mira shouted, scrambling to her feet.

I knew exactly what was happening. Light wasn’t just watching anymore. He was reaching out, touching the world in a way that no one could ignore.

Another jolt sent us tumbling again. I could hear alarms blaring, muffled voices over the intercom, but it all felt distant—like background noise to the growing pressure in my chest.

“Get up!” I grabbed Mira’s arm, dragging her upright as the room tilted, a testament to how much strain the submarine was under.

Dr. Graves stumbled into the control room, his face twisted in frustration. “What’s going on? Status report!”

“You tell us!” Mira snapped, clutching the edge of the console to keep her balance.

Graves shot me a glare, as if he knew I was somehow connected to the chaos. Maybe I was. Maybe this was Light’s way of punishing me, or worse—reminding me of his power.

The vessel shook again, this time accompanied by a deep, resonating sound that didn’t come from the submarine. It came from the water itself.

A low, otherworldly hum. A sound that wasn’t just heard but felt. It burrowed into my bones, my teeth vibrating with the force of it.

“He’s showing them,” I whispered, almost to myself.

Graves heard me anyway. “What did you say?”

“He’s showing you,” I said louder, staring at him. My voice felt disconnected, like it was coming from someone else. “You wanted proof of what he is? There it is.”

As if on cue, the submarine’s systems began to malfunction. Lights burst overhead, sparks flying as panels short-circuited. Screens flickered, displaying unreadable symbols that looked like writing but weren’t.

Mira gasped, pointing at one of the monitors. “Look!”

The screen showed an impossible image—dark waters swirling like a storm, shapes moving within them. They weren’t fish. They weren’t anything I could recognize. Shadows with glowing eyes, circling, watching, waiting.

Graves staggered back, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “This is… this is some kind of interference. A hallucination. It’s not real.”

“It’s real,” I said, my voice shaking. “He’s real.”

The submarine groaned again, louder this time, the sound so sharp it felt like a scream. The pressure around us intensified, like a giant hand was squeezing the vessel, testing its limits.

And then I felt him.

Not in the abstract way I usually did, but physically. Light. His presence flooded the room, suffocating, undeniable. I couldn’t see him, but I knew he was there, taking up space, commanding attention.

Everyone felt it. Mira pressed herself against the wall, her eyes wide with terror. Graves stood frozen, his usual bravado stripped away, leaving only raw, naked fear.

The hum in the water grew louder, shifting into something almost melodic, almost words. I couldn’t understand them, but I knew they were meant for us—for me.

“Show them,” I whispered, daring to speak directly to him. “Let them see.”

The pressure eased for a moment, and then everything went still.

Deadly still.

No hum. No groan of metal. Not even the distant whir of machinery.

And then, a single voice.

“Look.”

It wasn’t spoken aloud. It was inside me, inside all of us. I could see it in their faces, the way their eyes widened in unison, the way their breathing synced up, shallow and panicked.

The screens flickered again, and this time they showed him.

Light.

Or what we could perceive of him. His form was both monstrous and magnificent, something too vast and complex for the human mind to fully grasp. Scales like galaxies, eyes that burned with ancient light, a presence that stretched far beyond the edges of the screen.

Mira screamed, clutching her head as if the sight was too much for her. Graves stumbled, falling to his knees, his eyes locked on the image, his lips moving soundlessly.

But I couldn’t look away.

He was beautiful.

Terrifyingly, impossibly beautiful.

The submarine jolted again, pulling me out of my trance. The image disappeared, replaced by static, but the feeling remained.

Graves scrambled to his feet, his face pale and drenched in sweat. “We need… we need to document this. The world—”

“Will never understand,” I cut him off, my voice cold. “You saw it. You felt it. Do you think anyone up there is ready for this?”

Graves glared at me, but there was no conviction behind it. Just fear.

Mira clung to my arm, her breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. “Lila… what do we do?”

I didn’t have an answer. My legs felt like they would give out any second, my mind reeling from the magnitude of what had just happened.

But one thing was clear: Light wasn’t done with us.

Not yet.