"My name is Dr. Mathias Kohler, a Swiss experimental physicist. I am 42 years of age, possess a 190 IQ, and believe that the world's governments are lying to us all.”

I have dedicated my life to the pursuit of truth, to understanding the fabric of our universe in ways that most minds could never comprehend. I spent years at CERN, working alongside the most brilliant scientists in the world, but even they failed to grasp what lies beyond our reality. They are content to play it safe, to reinforce the laws we think we know.

But I have always seen the patterns they ignored, the anomalies dismissed. I have studied the cracks in our reality, the fleeting glimpses of something... other. Alternate dimensions, they call them. Mere theory to some, a fantasy to others. But I know better. I have glimpsed the edges of these worlds. I have seen the echoes they leave in our own.

They laughed at me when I proposed my theories—said my ideas were dangerous, bordering on madness. So I took my work into my own hands. Using what little funding I could siphon, and a few connections outside the usual channels, I built something they would never dare: the Dimensional Observer.

A device designed to peer into the unseen, to find proof of the infinite worlds just beyond our own, to show the truth that governments and institutions are too frightened to reveal. I will prove to them all that the cosmos holds more than just stars and planets. It holds secrets—secrets that can be known, secrets that can be... harnessed.

And I am close. So very close.

"I know there is truth, truth that they are hiding," I write with a steady hand, each word a challenge to the established order. "I know my history as well as anyone else, about the superheroes, the Specials, the strange devices they claim are the works of mad science or magic.

Magic—"magic," they call it. Ridiculous. It is not magic. It is simply a type of energy not yet understood by science. Every phenomenon has an explanation; every mystery can be unraveled with enough time, enough effort, enough courage. But I digress…

I've also heard of stranger things—stories whispered on the edges of the scientific community, rumors buried in old archives, tales from the pulp era. Stories of other worlds, alternate timelines, places that defy all reason. Stories that the learned and the wise have dismissed as fiction, but I have always felt there was something more to them.

And then there are the events—the unexplained occurrences, the anomalies in the data, the moments in history that vanish from public record as if they never happened. Events that, if you know where to look, suggest a hidden hand, an invisible force. I believe, no—I know—the UN and world governments have covered these things up. They do not want us to see beyond the veil, to look into the depths, to find what is truly out there.

But I will. With this journal, I will document my findings, my experiments, my successes and failures. I will prove to the world that there are other dimensions of existence beyond our understanding! I will show them all that the multiverse is real, and that it is not the sole domain of the powerful, the so-called 'Specials,' or the cowards in power who would keep us in ignorance.

I will use the Dimensional Observer to see what they cannot, to reach into the unknown, and bring back proof of what lies beyond the boundaries of our reality. I will become the bridge between worlds, the harbinger of truth.

And when they see what I have seen, when they are forced to confront the horrors and wonders of what truly lies beyond, they will have no choice but to acknowledge what they have hidden for so long.

Soon, the world will understand."

"Ah, yes, the Dimensional Observer," I muse, feeling the thrill in my chest as I see the glint of its complex machinery in the corner of the room. "I suppose I should relate this—the key to my experiment—while my assistants prepare the device."

It is a miracle of what they call “super science.” A term I find… inadequate, but fitting, I suppose, for those who cannot grasp the elegance of true scientific innovation. I first found mention of a device that could peer into the beyond in an old pulp-era book, a forgotten tome that chronicled the adventures of one of the greatest minds of that era—Doctor Nate Hawthorne, the legendary world’s smartest explorer-scientist.

So much of his most cutting-edge work was buried under layers of fiction, dismissed as mere entertainment for the masses. But to me, it was an inspiration, and perhaps even proof that it could be done.

There was almost nothing to go on—only vague descriptions, a few sketches, a scattering of cryptic notes that seemed like the ramblings of a madman. They spoke of “invisible waves,” of frequencies beyond the scope of human senses, of mirrors that could show not reflections, but… something else. But I saw the genius hidden within the madness. I saw the potential.

So much of the work, I had to do myself. Reverse-engineering a device that may never have existed, that had only been dreamed of. It was as if the knowledge came to me in whispers, in fragments. Sometimes, I almost feel as though the elements of its construction came to me in dreams. I’d wake up with a new idea, a new component to add, a new equation to solve. Was it madness? Was it inspiration? Perhaps both.

But slowly, piece by piece, it has come together. The device is beautiful, a lattice of lenses, wires, and superconductors—a marriage of the known and the unknown. It has cost me a fortune in resources—more money than I care to admit—but money is of no concern when a true scientific breakthrough is on the line! What matters are the results. What matters is the truth!

And soon, with the Observer activated, I will gaze into the beyond, into the realms that others have only dared to imagine. I will see what they refuse to see, what they are too afraid to acknowledge. The truths that lie hidden in the dark spaces between dimensions, just waiting to be discovered by a mind brave enough to look."

"My assistant will prepare for a camera recording of this for posterity," I announce, nodding toward the young woman adjusting the camera on its tripod. The red light blinks to life, and I hear the soft whirring of the lens as it focuses on me.

"Ready, Dr. Kohler," my assistant, Elena Haller, calls out. Her hands move with a practiced efficiency as she steadies the equipment, her expression professional, but I can see the gleam of curiosity in her eyes. She has been with me for three years, and she knows well enough by now that today’s experiment could change everything.

The camera hums as it locks into focus. I stand tall, clasping my hands behind my back, feeling the weight of the moment settle in. I take a deep breath and look directly into the lens, ready to document the beginning of a new era in scientific understanding.

"This is Dr. Mathias Kohler," I begin, "on the 14th of October, 1997, documenting the first trial of the Dimensional Observer." I pause for a moment, letting the gravity of my words sink in.

Behind me, the device itself dominates the room. The Dimensional Observer is an imposing structure, standing nearly seven feet tall, an intricate latticework of metal and glass. Its surface is studded with a myriad of polished lenses of varying sizes, reflecting the overhead lights in dazzling arrays. Coiled wires run like veins across its frame, weaving in and out of clusters of superconductors, and at its center sits a large, circular aperture that seems to drink in the surrounding light, a gaping void framed by glowing rings that pulse with an otherworldly blue energy.

The Observer's base is surrounded by a network of consoles and control panels, screens displaying streams of data and equations I have painstakingly worked to decode. The core is encased in a transparent cylinder, filled with a swirling mist that shifts colors from deep indigo to vibrant emerald, the result of a rare gas I procured at great expense. This gas, when electrically charged, is theorized to resonate with frequencies beyond human perception—a key element of the Observer’s function.

"The Dimensional Observer," I continue, turning slightly to gesture toward the machine, "is designed to be the first instrument capable of peering beyond the conventional dimensions we know. It operates by generating a field of controlled tachyonic particles, combined with a phase-aligned energy pulse that creates what I hypothesize to be a 'dimensional lens.' In essence, it can focus on the vibrational frequencies of dimensions beyond our own."

I can feel the excitement building in my voice, my hands moving with each explanation. "Super-scientists and physicists alike have long theorized about dimensions that exist parallel to ours, separated by mere vibrational differences. The Observer’s core mechanism—a rotating superconductive coil housed within a magnetic field—is designed to amplify and stabilize these frequencies."

I step closer to the camera, lowering my voice to a conspiratorial whisper, my eyes glinting with determination. "By channeling these energies through this core, the Observer creates a controlled window, a gateway, if you will, that allows us to see... perhaps even interact with... other realities."

Elena moves closer, capturing the shimmering machinery in greater detail. I know the significance of this moment is not lost on her, either. Her hand briefly hesitates on the camera, but she does not speak. Her gaze is locked on the machine.

"And this," I continue, turning fully to face the device, "this is just the beginning. If my calculations are correct, today we will witness something unprecedented. Today, we will look into the beyond and see what lies there in"

I glance back at Elena, giving a small nod. She presses a button, and the camera zooms in on the Observer’s core, the light from its aperture growing more intense as the machine begins to hum with power.

"Let the record show," I say softly, almost to myself, "that I, Dr. Mathias Kohler, will be the first to see what others have denied… the first to uncover the truth of what exists beyond our reality."

And with that, I step back, preparing for what is to come. The room fills with a low, pulsing sound, like the heartbeat of something immense awakening.

The Observer emits a low hum as it powers up, and from its core, a sleek chair slides out, its surface glistening with the sheen of polished metal and cushioned in dark, synthetic leather. The chair is angled slightly backward, designed for maximum comfort while supporting the body's every contour. I step toward it, feeling a rush of anticipation coursing through my veins.

With a calm breath, I settle myself into the chair, reclining as its contours conform to my form. The coolness of the material sends a shiver up my spine, but I ignore it, focusing on the task ahead. I grip the armrests, feeling the subtle vibrations running through the metal frame, the energy of the Observer seeping into every molecule.

Above me, a mechanical arm extends from the machine, and at its end is a specialized viewing helmet—an intricate apparatus covered in sensors and lenses, all wired back into the Observer. The helmet moves with a precise, almost graceful motion, aligning itself with my head. I tilt back, feeling its weight as it lowers over my face, enveloping me in a cocoon of metal and glass.

Elena steps forward, her expression serious and focused, holding a small, translucent mask in her hands. “Steady, Doctor,” she murmurs, her voice calm but with a hint of excitement. I nod, signaling my readiness.

She gently places the mask over my nose and mouth, securing it in place with practiced hands. A hiss fills the air as a mixture of gases is released, a carefully calibrated cocktail of chemicals designed to relax my mind, heighten my perception, and prepare my neural pathways to sync with the Observer.

The air tastes faintly of menthol and ozone, sharp and cool, as I inhale deeply. My vision begins to blur around the edges, the colors of the room shifting, becoming more vibrant and saturated. I can feel my heartbeat slowing, my thoughts stretching out as if reaching across a vast, invisible distance.

I close my eyes, feeling the Observer’s helmet hum to life around me, the sensors pressing gently against my temples, the lenses aligning over my eyes. I can hear the machine’s internal components whirring, the rhythmic beeping of data being processed, and the subtle vibrations as the device prepares to make contact with something beyond.

"The chemicals are taking effect," Elena announces, her voice sounding distant, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel. "Brainwave patterns are normal. Heart rate is steady."

“Good,” I manage, my voice feeling slow and thick. “Begin phase one… Engage the Observer.”

The helmet tightens around my head, a soft click as it locks into place, and I feel a sudden rush of energy—a tingling sensation that spreads from the base of my skull, down my spine, and out to the tips of my fingers. The world outside the helmet fades into a blur, and my senses seem to sharpen, my mind attuning itself to the Observer's frequencies.

As I take another breath of the gaseous mix, I feel a strange sensation in my mind, a gentle pull, as if something is coaxing me forward, drawing me toward an unseen horizon. I grip the armrests tighter, my knuckles whitening, and the chair reclines further, angling me deeper into the core of the machine.

"I'm ready," I whisper, more to myself than to anyone else. The Observer's hum grows louder, resonating with a deep, throbbing sound that seems to echo within my very bones. I feel my consciousness stretching, expanding, preparing to break through the barriers of our reality.

I can feel it now—the edge of something vast, something incomprehensible, waiting just beyond the limits of our world.

I open my eyes—or rather, I think I do—and the darkness peels away, revealing a scene that is both familiar and strange. I am in the lab, yet not in the lab. The room is bathed in a dim, almost sepia light, shadows stretching long and thin as if cast by an unseen, flickering flame. The Observer is absent from this space, a gaping void where it should stand, its usual spot occupied by a cluster of unfamiliar machinery, strange devices that hum quietly with a life of their own.

I blink, adjusting to this new reality, feeling a strange sensation of vertigo, as if the ground itself were swaying beneath me. I recognize the layout—the tables, the shelves, the equipment—it is all as it should be, but not quite. Everything is… off. Notes and papers are scattered in disarray, unlike the meticulous order I always keep. Objects are out of place, beakers and flasks arranged haphazardly instead of in their usual order. A clock on the wall ticks backward, its hands moving in reverse, the numbers slightly warped, as if viewed through warped glass.

I take a cautious step forward, and the air feels different, heavier somehow, thicker. I run my fingers over a table, noting the fine layer of dust that has settled over everything, a peculiar absence of activity. I glance around, searching for any sign of life, but the lab is empty—eerily so.

“No one is in the lab…” I murmur, the sound of my voice seeming to hang in the air longer than it should. I feel a ripple of unease run through me, but I push it aside, allowing a wry smile to tug at my lips. “Perhaps in this dimension, I take Wednesdays off,” I say with a chuckle, my voice echoing strangely against the walls.

I move further into the room, the sense of wrongness growing stronger with each step. I notice small details—the edge of a table that seems slightly warped, a crack in the wall that I am certain does not exist in my lab. A series of photographs pinned to a corkboard, faces I recognize but with features subtly different, expressions that are not quite right. I feel an involuntary shiver travel down my spine.

The light flickers, dimming momentarily, and I hear a faint hum, a distant vibration that seems to resonate through the air, like the Observer’s pulse but… deeper, more resonant. I look around, scanning for the source, but find nothing—only the unsettling stillness of this place, this version of my lab that is and is not my own.

I feel a strange sense of displacement, like I am standing on the edge of a precipice, teetering between worlds. I remind myself that this is what I wanted—to see beyond the boundaries of our reality, to peer into another dimension. And here it is, a world unlike our own yet not so different. A place that mirrors my own reality, yet twists it, just enough to make it uncanny.

I laugh softly, a nervous chuckle that doesn’t quite mask the thrill of fear and wonder rising in my chest. “What are you, then?” I murmur to the empty room. “A reflection, a shadow… or something else entirely?”

The air grows colder, the shadows stretching longer. I feel the Observer’s hum in the back of my mind, a gentle tug, a reminder of the link that connects me to this other place. I am still here, and yet, I am not.

“Let’s see what else you have to show me…” I say quietly, curiosity outweighing the flickers of doubt. I take another step, deeper into this strange mirror of my world, wondering how far this rabbit hole goes.

There is something wrong here. The layer of dust seems thicker now, settling like a shroud over everything in the room. The eerie quiet presses in, a silence that feels almost alive, stretching out and swallowing any sound I might make. The lab looks as if it has not been maintained for some time—weeks, months, maybe longer. Equipment left to rust, papers yellowed and brittle, as if time itself has forgotten this place. I feel a knot of unease tighten in my stomach.

I am starting to dislike this place. I think the initial excitement gives way to a creeping sense of dread. Perhaps I should find another world.

"Welcome, Doctor. We have been expecting you."

I jump at the voice, my heart leaping into my throat. It is soft, almost a whisper, but it carries a strange resonance, as if echoing from far away—or from everywhere at once. My eyes dart around the room, searching for the source, but I see no one. The room remains empty, just as before.

"Who… who are you?" I ask, my voice unsteady, betraying the growing tension in my chest. "And… how do you know me?"

A soft chuckle fills the air, low and unsettling, like a distant breeze rustling through dead leaves. "Do not worry, Doctor," the voice replies, calm and almost soothing, yet carrying an undercurrent that sends chills down my spine. "We have seen the edges of your mind… in the inbetween place where dreaming minds touch."

A cold shiver races up my back. The between place? I have read theories, whispers among the more esoteric scientific communities, of a liminal space between dimensions—a place where consciousness could drift, where the barriers are thin, where thoughts and dreams mingle. But those were just ideas, speculations, not grounded in any tangible evidence.

I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry. "I… I don’t understand," I stammer, still searching for the source of the voice, feeling the Observer’s hum in the back of my mind, like a distant heartbeat. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The voice seems to come from all directions now, wrapping around me like a fog. "We are the ones who watch," it says, almost tenderly. "We are the ones who listen. Your curiosity has brought you here, to a place where the veil is thin, where worlds bleed into one another. You sought to see beyond… and now, you have."

I feel a prickling sensation at the back of my neck, the hair standing on end. My mind races, trying to comprehend what is happening. "I sought to observe," I say, trying to keep my voice steady, to sound confident. "Not to… to be observed."

"Ah, but Doctor," the voice continues, a hint of amusement lacing its tone, "in seeking, you have become the sought. In observing, you have become the observed."

I feel a strange pressure in my head, a dull ache forming behind my eyes. The room seems to twist around me, the shadows deepening, stretching like fingers reaching out. I grip the armrests of the chair tighter, trying to focus, trying to stay grounded in my reality… whatever reality this is.

"Show yourself!" I demand, my voice breaking the heavy silence, echoing against the walls.

A pause. And then, softly, "Are you sure you want that, Doctor?"

I feel my breath hitch, a bead of sweat trickling down my temple. Something moves in the shadows, a flicker at the edge of my vision, and I realize with a growing sense of horror that I am not alone in this place.

"Perhaps…" the voice murmurs, almost like a sigh, "you should see what you truly seek."

I steel myself, swallowing the rising fear, my mind racing with possibilities, none of them comforting. What have I opened myself to? What waits for me on the other side of this thin skin of reality?

A shiver runs down the back of my neck, a primal instinct flaring within me, a sudden rush of fear. My voice catches in my throat as panic grips me. “Elena,” I call out, trying to keep my tone steady, but there’s an edge of desperation I cannot hide. “Cut the power! Pull me out!”

Silence.

I wait for the familiar hum of the Observer to fade, for the sudden jolt that would indicate the power being cut. But nothing comes. The room remains bathed in that strange, dim light, the shadows still dancing along the edges of my vision. My pulse quickens, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. Can she not hear me?

I try to move, to pull myself back, but I am paralyzed, transfixed in place by some invisible force. I can’t feel my limbs; it’s as if my body has become distant, disconnected from me. The voice surrounds me, a low, resonant whisper that feels like it’s inside my skull, vibrating through my very bones.

"Ah, Doctor," the voice purrs, and I feel the hair on my arms stand on end, "you are a seeker of realities, a hungry seeker… much like myself."

The words twist in the air around me, and I can almost see them, like tendrils of smoke curling through the room. "A god, perhaps, or a being your dimension would call alien," it continues, each word a soft, creeping caress against my mind. "This place you see… was another world where you reached out, and I heard you… a world I found… and devoured."

A chill runs through my body, and I feel my heart thudding violently in my chest. "Devoured?" I whisper, barely able to speak, my voice a thin thread against the oppressive presence pressing down on me. My mind races, piecing together the fragments of what I’ve heard, trying to make sense of the impossible. A seeker, a hungry god… feeding on worlds?

I feel the pressure in my head intensify, a dull ache blossoming into a sharp pain behind my eyes. The room seems to pulse, the shadows growing darker, more solid. I can almost feel them moving closer, tightening around me.

"Yes, Doctor," the voice continues, its tone almost gentle, but with a dark undertone that makes my skin crawl. "This world was like your own once—a reflection, a shadow cast across the dimensions. But it reached too far, too deep… and I was there, waiting in the void between, listening."

The shadows twist and writhe at the edges of my vision, and I sense… something within them. Shapes, moving, coiling like serpents in the darkness. “What… what are you?” I ask, my voice trembling, the words barely a whisper.

A low chuckle fills the room, cold and hollow. "I am many things," the voice replies. "A collector of realities, a devourer of life. Your world called to me, just as this one did… and I answered. I am what waits in the spaces between, what hungers for the energy of worlds to sustain me."

I try to scream, to shout for Elena, but the words catch in my throat. My mind feels like it’s being pulled, stretched, like I’m standing on the edge of a black hole. I can feel the weight of this entity's presence, a crushing force that presses down on me, suffocating, consuming.

"No!" I finally manage to shout, a burst of defiance breaking through the fog. "This is not real! You… you are not real!"

The voice laughs, a deep, resonant sound that shakes the room around me. "Ah, Doctor… reality is such a fragile thing. A concept, a perception. You have seen beyond its edges, and now… now, you stand before something far more profound."

The shadows close in tighter, the light fading, and I feel a sudden, sharp tug at the core of my being, as if I’m being pulled through that thin barrier once more—only this time, something is pulling back.

"Welcome to the void between worlds, Doctor Kohler," the voice whispers, almost lovingly, as the darkness begins to swallow me whole. "You sought the unknown… and now, the unknown has found you."

A surge of panic floods my senses as I realize the gravity of my situation. My mind races, searching for a way out, any escape from this nightmare made real. I feel my thoughts flaring like sparks, pushing against the unseen force that holds me in place. I summon every ounce of willpower, every shred of mental strength, trying to force myself back through the barrier, back to my own reality.

But the more I push, the stronger the resistance becomes. It is as if I am trying to swim against a tide that grows heavier with every stroke. My breath comes in ragged gasps, my heart pounding in my ears, and I feel something deeper—my very soul, perhaps—straining against the darkness that encircles me.

“No… no, this is not the end,” I mutter through gritted teeth, my voice a strained whisper against the crushing weight of the void. “I will not be trapped here… I will not be devoured…”

The voice, dark and vast, returns, calm yet carrying a quiet amusement that chills me to the core. “You see, Doctor,” it says, its tone almost conversational, “you are to me as a speck of dust is to you. Though in your case, a useful speck of dust… for I require entry.”

I feel a cold grip tighten around my chest, my lungs seizing as if an invisible hand has reached inside me. I gasp, struggling for air, my mind reeling. “Entry…? What do you mean?” I manage, the words barely escaping my lips, my voice thin and brittle.

“To feed,” the voice continues, its tone thick with a kind of twisted delight, “on what you might call souls.”

A wave of terror washes over me, and I feel a deep, instinctive horror rising from within, something primal and ancient, a fear rooted in the very essence of my being. Souls. The word reverberates in my mind, echoing like a bell tolling in the darkness. This entity… this thing… it feeds on souls.

I strain harder against the unseen force, feeling the strain in every fiber of my being. “No… you… you cannot have mine,” I gasp, my voice trembling but defiant. “I will not let you!”

The voice only laughs, a deep, resonant sound that shakes the shadows around me, making them ripple like water disturbed by a stone. “Ah, Doctor,” it murmurs, almost kindly, “you misunderstand. I do not need to take yours… you have already opened the way.”

The realization hits me like a blow to the gut. I am not just trapped—I am the door. By reaching into this place, by breaking through the veil, I have invited it in. I have given it a way to reach my world, to consume whatever it desires. A deep, cold horror settles in my bones as I grasp the full magnitude of my mistake.

“No…” I whisper, almost to myself. “No, this cannot be… I must stop this, I must—”

“There is no stopping what has begun, Doctor,” the voice purrs. “You have given me the key, and now… now, I will open the door. Your world will be my feast, and every soul will sing its song to the void.”

I scream, a sound of pure desperation, of primal terror, my mind thrashing against the force holding me, my will pushing against the crushing weight of inevitability. I can feel the Observer still, a faint connection in the back of my mind, a thin thread that binds me to my own reality. I focus on it, reaching out with everything I have, pulling, pulling, trying to tear myself free.

“I will not let you,” I growl, my voice low but fierce, every ounce of my willpower focused on that fragile thread. “I will not… I will not let you take my world.”

The voice pauses, and for a moment, I feel a flicker of doubt. “We shall see, Doctor,” it says, the amusement fading, replaced with something darker, more sinister. “We shall see.”

And then, with a sudden, violent jolt, the world around me shifts. The shadows swirl, tightening, closing in. I pull harder, my mind straining, feeling like it might tear apart… but I refuse to let go. I refuse to surrender.

"Not today," I whisper, more to myself than to the voice, feeling the thread pulling taut, feeling the Observer's hum growing louder in my mind. I focus every ounce of my will, every fragment of my consciousness, on pulling myself free from the grip of this nightmare realm. My heart pounds like a drum in my chest, the blood roaring in my ears, but the unseen force binding me tightens its hold, refusing to let go.

And then, through the fog of fear and panic, another voice cuts in—a voice strong, confident, and unmistakably British.

"No, I don't think you will be using the good doctor here as a doorway through Liminal space today."

The sound of it is like a lifeline thrown into the churning waters of my mind, and I cling to it, the strength and clarity of it piercing through the darkness. The voice carries a calm assurance, a sense of authority that is both reassuring and commanding. I blink, trying to see through the murky shadows, but the presence of the Devourer still looms, its cold, malevolent energy pressing in around me.

The darker voice, the one that called itself the Devourer, lets out a low growl of annoyance, vibrating through the very fabric of this otherworldly space. "The Man out of Time..." it rumbles, its tone thick with disdain and something that almost sounds like fear.

A figure steps out from the shadows, emerging with a slow, confident stride. Tall and broad-shouldered, he wears a rugged leather jacket over a shirt rolled up at the sleeves, his square jaw set in determination. His piercing blue eyes shine with a light that seems to cut through the gloom, and his silver-streaked hair falls to his collar, hinting at both the age and agelessness of a man unstuck from time.

"Doctor Nate Hawthorne," I murmur in disbelief, my voice weak but filled with awe. I’ve read his stories, the pulp-era tales of his daring adventures, his defiance of the impossible. But he was supposed to be a myth, a legend lost to time—a story whispered among those who dared to dream of something greater.

He gives me a quick, reassuring smile, his eyes never leaving the darkness where the Devourer’s presence lurks. "That's right, old chap," he replies, his tone light but his gaze unwavering. "And it seems you've stumbled into a bit of a mess."

The Devourer's voice, now filled with a simmering rage, booms out around us. "You think you can stop me, Man out of Time? This is my domain. You are nothing but a shadow lost in the currents of eternity."

Doctor Hawthorne laughs softly, almost casually, as if dismissing a minor inconvenience. "I've faced worse things than you in places darker than this," he retorts, a steel edge in his voice. "Now, be a good little nightmare and crawl back to whatever void you slithered out of."

I feel a surge of power around me, a shift in the air as Hawthorne raises his hand. In it, he holds a strange device, something like a pocket watch crossed with a compass, glowing with a soft, otherworldly light. He flicks a dial, and a wave of energy pulses outward, a rippling force that seems to warp the very fabric of reality around us.

The Devourer roars, its voice filled with fury and frustration. "You meddle where you do not belong, Hawthorne!" it snarls, its form flickering, seeming to lose cohesion in the light of the device.

"That’s always been my specialty," Hawthorne replies, a wry grin spreading across his face. "Now, begone!" He twists the dial again, and the light flares brighter, driving back the shadows, pushing the Devourer away.

I feel the grip on my mind loosening, the suffocating pressure easing. My connection to the Observer strengthens, the hum growing louder, more distinct. I latch onto it, using the strength of Hawthorne's presence to pull myself back, back toward my reality.

"Quickly now," Hawthorne calls to me, his voice firm but encouraging. "Focus on the thread, Doctor. Follow it home."

I do as he says, my mind latching onto that thin thread, pulling, dragging myself away from the darkness. The world around me begins to blur, the shadows receding, the oppressive presence of the Devourer fading into the distance.

"This isn't over, Hawthorne," the Devourer growls, its voice a fading echo. "”I will find another way... another doorway..."

"Not today, you won't," Hawthorne mutters, turning his attention fully to me. "Come on, Doctor Kohler. Time to leave."

I feel a sudden jolt, a snap, and then the world around me collapses in on itself, folding like paper, and I am rushing backward, falling through the darkness, until—

I am back. The Observer's hum fills my ears, the lights of my lab flickering into focus. I gasp for breath, my heart racing, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair so tightly my knuckles are white.

"Doctor Kohler!" Elena's voice breaks through, her face filled with relief and concern as she rushes to my side. "Are you alright? What happened?"

I look up, still catching my breath, and my eyes meet hers. "I… I’m alright," I manage, my voice hoarse. "But we had a visitor."

Elena frowns, confused. "Visitor?"

I nod, still shaken but beginning to smile. "And an unexpected ally… Doctor Nate Hawthorne."

Her eyes widen, but before she can respond, I hear his voice again—soft, amused, and British, echoing faintly in the back of my mind.

"Remember, Doctor Kohler, some doors are better left closed."

I exhale, feeling a mix of relief and wonder. "Yes," I whisper, nodding to myself. "I understand."