Chapter 75 (2/2)

Where had all the eldritch monsters gone?

The Gap was not empty, Dan already knew this. Marcus had no explanation to offer about the denizens of this not-space. They simply were.

So where did they all go? Why had there been so many, in the beginning, clamoring around Dan's particular patch of nonexistence?

Dan thought he knew the answer. He hoped that he was wrong.

The Gap was a reflection of its observer. Dan's first deliberate trip into that amorphous dimension had dropped him into a peaceful patch of emptiness. It was the contrast, most likely, that had cemented the shape in Dan's mind. That, or the relief. The Gap had been... almost a comfort. He hadn't questioned the strangeness of the place, assuming that it had to be strange. It was a self-reinforcing loop. The Gap felt a certain way, because that was the way that it felt.

But that wasn't right, was it? Its nature was transient. He knew that, took advantage of it, even. Yet, no matter what he did, the Gap always felt the same. The same cold, encroaching numbness. Like a shroud washing over him, a ghost treading on his grave.

Why?

Dan took a deep breath, air flashing into existence just long enough to fill his lungs. He closed his eyes, focusing on the veil of energy within him. It rose up, a shimmering aegis of translucent blue. It roiled off of him in waves, flickering tendrils responding to his agitation. They trailed into the distance like threads of silk caught by the wind.

He opened his eyes. His heart was calm.

”I know you're there.”

His voice echoed off the walls of nonexistence. The Gap shimmered, reshaping itself to fit his will. The all-encroaching darkness peeled away, dragged across the sky as if curtains on a stage. It was a vast dome, unfurling around him, revealing an ocean of distant lights. Like a break in the clouds in the midst of a hurricane.

Dan slowly looked up. His heart was calm. His mind was tranquil. He was ready to see.

A being towered above him. A being. That was the only description he could give. It was all that he could say, all that he could see, all that he could know. The boundless eldritch thing stood over him, peering down into his soul with a thousand sightless eyes. Its form was as mutable as the dimension it inhabited, a shifting, tumultuous shape, that grinded against reality. Nails on a chalkboard, given physical form.

Dan could feel it, where it connected to him, could feel where its presence ended, and his veil began. This thing had always been there, from that very first deliberate trip, he had just been to blind to see it.

There were no words in all of existence that could properly describe Dan's feelings in this moment, so he settled for, ”Oh.”

Then reality cracked like an egg, and he found himself back in Abby's condo. Even now, his power sought to ease his distress.

Dan now had a choice before him. He could pace, and worry, and ponder, and be afraid. He could embrace that most human of values: fear of the unknown. Or, he could accept that nothing had changed except his perception. He could do as his ancestors did, as people have always done, when faced with something that they could not change and did not want to think about.

He walked into Abby's kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and went for the booze.