Darkness—absolute, suffocating darkness—pressed in on Arthur from all sides. He couldn't look up, down, right, or left. His gaze remained fixed forward, locked onto a blinding yellow light hovering many feet away in the void.
"What... where am I?" The thought formed without sound, echoing in the emptiness of his mind. "Why am I here? Who exactly am I?"
Arthur didn't know what was happening. The questions multiplied faster than answers could form. He didn't know where he was or what his purpose might be. He didn't even know his own name. If he could have looked down to see his body, he wouldn't have known whether anything existed there at all. Though he was essentially nothing—a consciousness without form—he possessed something peculiar: knowledge. Far too much knowledge for someone who had just begun existing. Facts, concepts, and understanding flooded through him like water through a broken dam, yet none of it explained his current predicament.
That light... it seemed to pull him forward, or perhaps it rushed toward him. The distinction felt meaningless in this place without reference points. Arthur tried to move, but everything felt locked in place. He sensed no body parts, no limbs to command, saw nothing beyond that single point of brilliance. The yellow light grew brighter, larger, consuming more of the void as Arthur drifted toward it—or it toward him. Time itself seemed uncertain here.
The light drew extremely close now. Arthur wanted to shield his eyes, to turn away from the intensity, but he couldn't feel his hands or any part of himself. Strangely, his eyes didn't hurt. The blinding radiance had no effect on him whatsoever, as if he existed beyond pain, beyond physical sensation entirely. Was this what it meant to be pure consciousness?
He continued forward, helpless to resist. Finally, the light blazed with overwhelming intensity, filling his entire field of vision. A white glow emerged at its center, pure and piercing, and as the brilliance touched him, Arthur knew with absolute certainty that he wouldn't remain in this random space anymore. He would be somewhere—somewhere real, somewhere with substance and meaning.
Then something shocked him. Before, he had felt nothing—no sensation, no physical awareness—but now he actually *felt* something. The sensation rippled through his consciousness like waves across still water. How was that possible? He still couldn't feel any body parts, yet somehow that light had made him feel. It was beyond his understanding, something he wouldn't grasp for quite some time. All he could do was ground himself in the present moment and keep moving forward along a path he couldn't control, surrendering to forces he couldn't comprehend.
Eventually, the light faded, dissolving like morning mist.
Arthur looked up to see two people standing before him. A woman with kind but worried eyes—lines of concern etched around her mouth—held the hand of a young girl. The child's face bore traces of recent tears. Beside the woman stood an older man, scars running up and down his weathered arms like rivers carved by time and hard labor. His expression was unreadable, guarded.
"Who are these people?" Arthur's thoughts raced, tumbling over one another. "Where am I? This isn't the black place I was in before."
He stood in the middle of a warm house, modest but well-kept. His eyes darted around, trying to memorize the layout, to understand this new reality. Wooden beams crossed the ceiling. A fire crackled somewhere nearby. The smell of bread lingered in the air.
"Are you okay, Arthur?" his mother said, staring at him with growing concern. Her voice trembled slightly.
*Arthur. Is that my name? Is that what people call me?*
Arthur looked up at her but didn't know what to say. The woman's face showed genuine worry, fear even. He had just begun existing moments ago, and now he'd been thrown into this bewildering situation without preparation or warning. He didn't understand the concept of keeping a low profile or avoiding suspicion. After all, he possessed no experience whatsoever. Sure, he had knowledge about his body and countless other things—knowledge no one who had just started existing should possess—but that didn't include anything about social interactions or the subtle art of normalcy. At this moment, he felt no awkwardness, though somewhere in the back of his mind he sensed he probably should.
"I didn't know my name," Arthur said aloud, his voice flat and honest, devoid of the emotion the situation seemed to demand. "And honestly, I just started existing, so I don't know—am I okay?"
He didn't care how strange he sounded. Social conventions meant nothing to him because he had no framework to understand them. He knew nothing about privacy, nothing about speaking to people, nothing about society at all. All he possessed was common knowledge—an overwhelming amount of it, actually—but none of it practical for this moment.
He stared down at the young girl clutching his mother's hand. Her knuckles had gone white from gripping so tightly. "Who is that?"
Arthur's mother, Mary, looked confused and increasingly alarmed. Her free hand moved to her chest as if to steady her racing heart. "That's your younger sister, Arthur. Emily."
Mary searched her son's face for recognition, for anything familiar—a spark of the boy she'd raised, loved, and known for years. Why was he acting this way? Just this morning, he'd been normal—playing games with his friends, living life to the fullest, laughing at the dinner table. But this stranger wearing her son's face was someone she'd never encountered before. The eyes were wrong. The voice was wrong. Everything was wrong.
*Younger sister? Random names?* Arthur processed the words without comprehension, turning them over in his mind like foreign objects. He had no knowledge of family structures, no understanding of the bonds that tied people together. The words "mother," "father," "brother," "sister"—they held no meaning for him beyond their dictionary definitions. After all, you couldn't blame someone who had just started existing. It wasn't his fault these people didn't know that. How could they?
Suddenly, the black void enveloped him again, swallowing him whole.
But the light he'd seen before had vanished completely. Now he existed only in the black, endless, non-feeling space once more. Before, when he'd entered that strange house with those strange people and their incomprehensible words, he'd felt his body—the weight of limbs, the sensation of breathing. Now, just as when he'd first existed in this space, he could feel nothing. Yet something had changed—he could actually look around now. That was it. He couldn't move any other part of his body, but he could look up, down, left, right. It was a small freedom, but a freedom nonetheless.
*I'm back here again,* Arthur thought, continuing to stare into the black abyss that stretched infinitely in all directions. *At least this place is peaceful. No confusion. No strange people with their strange expectations.*
A sense of calm washed over his consciousness like a gentle tide. *I could live here forever if I wanted to. This can and will become my home. I love this place. There's no pressure here, no demands.*
He continued surveying the black, endless space, though looking was honestly useless considering that everything in every direction remained pure darkness. Nothing else. No features, no landmarks, no variation. At least before he'd had something to look at when he first existed—that yellow light had given him purpose, direction. Now it was just emptiness. But Arthur appreciated it nonetheless. He smiled—at least the mental equivalent of a smile, a warmth that spread through his consciousness.
*Peace. The one thing I actually enjoy.* He paused, reconsidering his own words. *Well, I can't really say that, considering I just existed a few moments ago. What do I know about enjoyment?*
He sighed—mentally, a release of tension he didn't fully understand. *I'll stay here forever in this endless black place. Peace really feels amazing. Now I wonder what the opposite of peace feels like? I've never felt anything but peace.* Another pause, longer this time. *Of course I haven't felt anything other than peace dark ab chapter one void abyss—I've barely existed. But I'd like to keep it this way. Peace is amazing, and I honestly would never let it go. Why would anyone choose chaos over this? I'll just chill in this black abyss for all eternity, I guess. That seems reasonable.*
He smiled again, settling into the comfortable nothingness like sinking into a soft bed. The darkness embraced him, asked nothing of him. *Now, time to just relax. No more strange houses. No more worried faces. Just... this.*