Shadows danced within his mind. Worlds twisted in upon themselves, devouring their own light. Universes flickered out like embers caught in a winter wind. Nameless voices whispered ancient secrets that pierced sanity like searing needles.
Giotto floated, trapped in shapes that defied all logic: living architectures spanning galaxies, deserts of crimson ash where dying suns fell silent. Infernal dimensions shaped from the suffering of mortals.
Spells written in blood defaced hanging gardens, turning them into swamps of festering flesh. Paradise worlds of verdant planetary gardens crumbled into wastelands of pus and disease, where flayed trees oozed black sap and skinless creatures howled into the void.
Beings of shapeless, ravenous hunger tore constellations apart like cruel children crushing insects — without reason, without mercy.
"Agh!"
His scream choked in his throat. The hospital's light seemed whiter than usual, almost aggressive, as though trying to burn away the last traces of darkness still dancing at the edges of his vision. He jolted upright, gasping. The sharp beeping of a monitor drilled into his left ear.
He blinked, disoriented.
For a heartbeat, Giotto thought he saw a shadow move behind the translucent curtain. He blinked again. Nothing.
"Sir!" A nurse appeared in the doorway. "Are you alright?"
Something on his wrist caught his attention. A dark mark, like a bruise, shaped into a strange symbol: three lines crossed by an incomplete circle. He tried rubbing it away, but it remained, as if tattooed beneath the skin.
Outside, a chill wind stirred the curtains. He could've sworn he heard his name whispered from a corner where the light refused to reach.
"Sir… are you alright?"
Giotto took a deep breath, steadying the tremble in his hands. He scanned the woman's face for any sign of deceit, but everything seemed normal.
"Yeah… yeah, I'm fine. Thank you…"
The nurse blinked, her worry obvious.
"What happened?"
"An electrical accident. You were found unconscious in the street. Luckily someone called emergency services. You're very fortunate."
She ended with a small smile.
"And the other guy? There was a man with me. He fell right next to me. Where is he?"
The nurse hesitated.
"Sir, you were brought in alone."
The monitor's beeping stuttered.
"What about the cameras?! No witnesses?" Giotto demanded, unable to believe something like this had gone unnoticed.
"I honestly don't know… I'll call the doctor. He might have more information."
She hurried out of the room before he could press her further. Giotto let out a shaky sigh. He glanced at his wrist — the mark burned faintly. He let himself collapse back onto the bed, breath ragged.
«This isn't normal»
"Giotto! Dio mio… thank God."
A man a few years older than Giotto strode into the room. At a glance, he was almost a reflection of him: blond hair, though a shade darker, thick brows, and piercing electric-blue eyes that contrasted with Giotto's green. Broad-shouldered, with the athletic build of a professional swimmer, dressed in a tailored suit and tie.
«Oh, great. Just what I needed»
"Stefano, what the hell are you doing here?" Giotto growled, making no effort to hide his annoyance.
Stefano closed the distance in a few quick strides. His face showed genuine concern, though the tight set of his jaw hinted at anger.
"Ma per favore, Giotto…" he muttered, clenching his teeth. "Mamma calls me, hysterical, at three in the morning saying my brother's in the hospital, unconscious in the middle of the street after some freak accident. You think she'd ever forgive me if I didn't show up?"
"I'm fine. You can go now," Giotto shot back.
"Sure, of course," Stefano scoffed, pulling out his phone like he was checking the time. "Nothing weird about it: you wind up unconscious with some demonic symbol burned into your skin, and everyone's happy."
Giotto held his brother's gaze.
Stefano moved over to the monitor, scanned Giotto's vitals, then glanced at the doctor who'd just walked in.
"Lucky for you I was in Naples. Who knows how long you would've been lying here with no one to claim you otherwise?"
Giotto looked away, hating how his brother always managed to turn everything into his own story — even this.
"Signori, per favore," the doctor spoke gently, his voice calm and steady. "This is a hospital. Please, keep it down."
Stefano raised a hand in apology but didn't take his eyes off Giotto.
"Sorry, I got carried away," Stefano said, his tone softening. "So… what exactly happened?"
The doctor flipped through the folder in his hands.
"An electrical shock from a loose cable. Miraculously, he's fine. No serious burns. Except for that mark…"
"Then why's he still alive?"
"Thank you, Stefano, thank you so much," Giotto muttered, exasperated.
"Hey, I'm just asking."
The doctor frowned, inspecting the wrist with clinical interest.
"Honestly, it's unusual. A mark like this should've left internal damage, or at least severe burns… yet there's nothing. It's… odd."
"Well, there are cases of people surviving lightning strikes, and the shock you received wasn't as strong," the doctor added. "If everything looks good in the next couple of hours, you'll be cleared to leave. Believe me when I say — someone up there's watching out for you."
Stefano seemed to deflate a little at those words, settling into the calmer, more composed demeanor Giotto was used to seeing in him.
"Grazie mille, doctor. That's a relief."
"No trouble at all. I'll leave you both for a moment — still have rounds to finish."
Giotto watched his brother as the doctor exited, the door clicking shut behind him. For a moment, silence hung over the room like a gravestone.
"So… Mamma called you?" Giotto asked, not sure why.
Stefano gave him one of those half-smiles Giotto always suspected was smug, though maybe it wasn't.
"Of course. She was worried sick," he replied, perching on the edge of the bed without asking. "She knows you… get into strange things sometimes."
"Strange things? Me?" Giotto barked a laugh, half offended. "Since when? Last I checked, you were the one who vanished for two days in Sicily without a word, and I had to cover for you—"
"Hey! We promised never to talk about that."
An awkward silence filled the room before Giotto spoke again.
"So… what are you doing in Naples?"
"Business. Not that you'd miss me, little brother."
But before he could say more, his phone chimed — the Star Wars theme blaring from the speaker. Flushing, Stefano stepped aside and pulled the phone from his pocket with a sigh.
"Well, look at that — Mr. Perfect Suit is still mortal. Incredible."
Stefano shot his brother a playful look, checking the caller ID.
"Listen, Giotto, sorry — this is important. Here," he said, placing a twenty-euro note on the table, enough for a cab. "I wanted to drive you home, but I'm out of time. Call Mamma, alright? She worries."
A couple of hours later, the doctor returned to find Giotto staring at the ceiling, almost hypnotized.
"Oh, Signore Giotto… your brother?"
"He had to leave. Work."
"I see. Well, let me tell you — you've got a good brother. First thing he did when he got here was ask for you," the doctor said with a smile as Giotto pulled himself upright.
"Thanks…"
"Well, your final tests just came in. You're perfectly fine. You can head home. Need to call anyone?"
"No, no. I'm good. Called a Kuber already, so no need to worry."
"Very well — exit's on your right. If you need anything, just ask the nurse."
Once the doctor left, Giotto changed quickly, ignored the discharge instructions, and left early. The morning air tasted different somehow.
He glanced down at his wrist one more time. Aside from a faint itch, the mark now looked more like a tattoo than a scar. His phone buzzed — his ride had arrived.
Far away, in that place where reality and imagination are indistinguishable, where every outcome exists at once and chaos takes form, something was happening.
The Void Between Realities
Observation Station of the Greater Order
The polished metal corridors gleamed, alive with activity. Beings of countless species hurried through the long hallways of the base.
Em'rakis, an Aztamar with sapphire-blue scales and platinum eyes, long tentacles trailing from their vaguely humanoid head like hair, moved with a worried expression. Clutching a brown folder against their chest with crab-like claws, they weaved through the others with feline grace, avoiding every collision until reaching the teleportation chamber — the only quick way for personnel to traverse the vast station.
The Aztamar exhaled a deep, steadying breath, their eight legs releasing faint stress gases. For a moment, they hesitated — like a soldier who knew they were walking into a trap. But despite the dread gnawing at their nerves, Em'rakis stepped onto the platform and spoke the command with unwavering resolve:
"Wing B, floor 7250012, office 32S."
Instantly, their form dissolved into particles and reassembled within a grand, opulent office — almost human in design.
Walls of dark oaken wood were lined with shelves filled with trophies and medals of every kind. A massive, exquisitely polished desk dominated the room.
"You arrived sooner than I expected."
A soft, melodic voice spoke from Em'rakis's right — impossible to tell whether it belonged to a man or a woman. The Aztamar turned. The figure seemed human, at least in shape, but like their voice, the line between male and female was indiscernible, even to enhanced eyes.
Jet-black hair, obsidian skin, deep violet eyes, and an elegant, perpetual smile.
"Great Commander, I humbly apologize for intruding…"
"Please, let's skip the formalities for now," the figure interrupted, gesturing to a reclining chair designed specifically for Em'rakis's species — though it hadn't been there a moment ago. "Sit."
Em'rakis bowed slightly, settling carefully, eight limbs folding in.
"You came to report, didn't you?"
Em'rakis swallowed, closing their eyes briefly to calm themselves and suppress the stress gases threatening to escape.
"Um… Commander Ari, sir… we just received an intelligence report from one of our territories and, well—" the Aztamar began to sweat.
"And? Out with it. If you keep me waiting, I might get excited."
"W-well… the report confirms the death of the Traveler."
"Oh! Well, that's very good news," Ari clapped softly.
"Yes, yes… but… there was something else."
"Go on. My apologies for interrupting."
"It seems the Stalker was the one who took him down but… before dying, the Traveler escaped and ended up on one of our protected worlds."
Ari's face began to distort, that androgynous beauty replaced by a thick, viscous darkness, oozing like tar from every pore.
"Continue."
"Well… um… apparently, the Traveler had ties and alliances with the Holy Empire of the Flesh Lords. And now… they believe it was us who killed him."
The more Em'rakis spoke, the more that darkness spread — not just from Ari, but from the room itself, from the walls, the furniture… even from within Em'rakis's own body. Yet, despite the ever-mounting terror, they knew it was too late to turn back.
"The Flesh Lords have declared war… and have invaded thirty thousand dimensions."
"What's the High Council said?"
"They… they've ordered us to hold our positions and report immediately if anything else happens."
Reality fractured like a mirror. The office vanished, replaced by pure, all-consuming darkness, yielding only to the void between realities. Em'rakis watched existence form and unmake itself, the deepest, most dreadful secrets of the cosmos burning into their eyes, searing their retinas. Molecule by molecule, their body unraveled, allowing them to experience death's ultimate agony.
When only Ari remained — now a shapeless mass of pure darkness where that beautiful, androgynous figure had once stood — it spoke a name, filled with unimaginable hatred.
"Aranad…"
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Alright, chapter 1 was a lot of fun to write. We've now seen a glimpse of Giotto's family life, a hint of what lies ahead as the story progresses, and a taste of the dangers lurking in the multiverse. I have to say, it was quite entertaining to write the interaction between Estéfano and Giotto.