Chapter Text
“A time will come when the red sun bleeds upon the demon realm once more. She who does not belong, born of another sky, shall shatter the reign of night.”
(The Prophecy of the Faceless Demon)
_
The void hums like a living thing.
And from it, something whispers your name.
You open your mouth, but no sound comes out. The world folds in on itself, light bending into darkness.
A face, pale and shifting like smoke, hovers in the corner of your vision. It has no eyes, no mouth, only the faint suggestion of sorrow.
“You are not meant to be here,” it murmurs.
“Not in this world.”
Silence.
_
“Hey, earth to you! You still alive, or did Jupiter finally eat your brain?”
Alison’s voice cuts through the haze. You blink, and the lab comes back into focus, the soft glow of monitors, the hum of machines, and the faint scent of old coffee.
NASA’s Astrobiology Division. Your second home.
Reality. Sort of.
You’d been assigned to the Jupiter Project nearly a month ago, after the agency picked up strange vibrations coming from the planet’s outer magnetic field.
At first, everyone thought it was background radiation or solar interference, but the pattern had persisted and evolved.
It wasn’t random. It was rhythmic and Intentional.
The public knew nothing, of course. They would panic if they found out Jupiter was humming like a living thing.
The project was buried under layers of secrecy, even within NASA, only a handful of scientists were cleared to see the raw data. You were one of them.
But lately, you’d started to feel like that wasn’t a privilege, it was a warning.
“Zoned out again?” Alison asks, spinning lazily in her chair. She’s the kind of person who makes chaos look charming.
Hair tied in a messy bun, lab coat too big, socks covered in pixelated planets.
She spins toward the console.
“Anyway, look at this. The readings from Europa came in this morning, and it’s wild.”
You lean closer, eyes scanning the data. The holographic display flickers to life, showing Jupiter in its stormy majesty surrounded by its moons. But what catches your eye isn’t the planet itself, it’s the spectral lines glowing faintly red, pulsing like a heartbeat.
“Is that-?”
“Exactly what I thought!” Alison cuts in, bouncing in her seat.
“Anomalous spectral activity near Jupiter’s magnetosphere. But get this it’s organic. Not plasma interference or radiation. It’s alive. The signal is starting to repeat a rhythm, its finally talking. Do you know how huge this is?”
“That’s impossible.”
“Oh, I know.” Her eyes sparkle behind her glasses. “Unless we’re seeing interdimensional resonance. Imagine it, a lifeform that doesn’t exist in our space-time frame. It could be from another layer of reality.”
Her enthusiasm is contagious, but your stomach tightens. The red glow reflected in your eyes feels familiar. Too familiar. Like you’ve seen it before, flickering behind your eyelids when you dream.
You force a laugh. “You’re starting to sound like one of those conspiracy theorists again.”
“Hey, I’m serious! The rythym repeats every forty two hours, synchronized with Jupiter’s rotation. Look at the waveform”
You jolt from the screen.
“What if,” you say quietly, “what if this isn’t natural?”
She tilts her head. “You think it’s artificial?”
You hesitate. Artificial isn’t the right word. It feels ancient.
“I don’t know,” you admit. “But it feels wrong.”
Alison chuckles nervously. “You always did have good intuition. Maybe you’re picking up cosmic ghost vibes or something.”
She shrugs, trying to lighten the mood, though unease flickers in her eyes. “Anyway, I’m running another simulation tonight and report to the higher ups. Wanna stay and help?”
You glance at the clock. Past midnight already. You should be exhausted, but you’re not. You never are lately. Sleep only brings those dreams.
The red haired man that never speaks, but every time you see him, your heart clenches with something too close to recognition.
You shake your head. “I think I’ll head home. I need some air.”
Alison waves you off. “Suit yourself babe. But if I get abducted by aliens, I’m haunting you first.”
You manage a weak smile. “Guess I need more sleep.”
She snorts. “You always say that.” Then, with a grin, “Or maybe Jupiter’s sending you telepathic love letters.”
You chuckle despite yourself. Alison has a way of making heavy things lighter, but even her jokes can’t shake the tension in your chest.
You glance at the holographic display beside you. Jupiter, enormous and storm wracked, bathed in red and gold. The readings scroll endlessly below it, numbers shifting faster than thought.
Somewhere within that chaos, something was calling.
Your fingers tighten around your coffee cup. The past month had been a blur of sleepless nights, encrypted reports, and classified briefings. Each new wave of data made less sense than the last.
But what unsettled you most was the familiarity of it all.
It reminded you of the dreams you couldn’t escape. Dreams of a crimson sky, a burning sun, and a man with hair the color of flame.
He never spoke, but every time he looked at you, your heart clenched with something raw and unexplainable.
It wasn’t just déjà vu.
It was like remembering a life you’d never lived.
“Alright,” Alison says, pushing away from her desk. “I’m grabbing caffeine before I face another hour of data chaos. You want anything?”
You shake your head. “I’m good.”
“Liar,” she teases, heading for the door.
You smile faintly as she disappears down the hall. The silence that follows is thick, almost alive. You turn back to your monitor. The new batch of data has already begun streaming in.
The pulses are stronger now slow, heavy beats echoing through the room. They almost sound like a heartbeat.
You lean closer. The signal spikes once, twice, then flattens. For a brief moment, there’s static. You zoom in, and your breath catches.
Hidden in the noise, there’s rhythm. Structured, almost like a chant.
Then a whisper threads through it, faint.
"The red sun rises."
You freeze. The words ripple through your skull like thunder. You’ve heard them before.
Not in the lab.
In your dreams.
The speakers crackle, then fall silent again. You stare at the screen, pulse racing.
No one would believe you.
Maybe you didn’t believe yourself.
__
The night outside the lab feels colder than usual. The air hums faintly, like the echo of something far away but vast enough to fill the stars. You pull your coat tighter and glance up at the sky.
Jupiter gleams above the horizon, its light unusually red tonight.
You tell yourself it’s refraction.
You don’t believe it.
As you walk through the quiet campus, every shadow feels heavy, stretched.
The fluorescent lights buzz faintly behind you. Then, for a heartbeat, the world stills.
In the reflection of a glass door, you see it again, the faceless figure from your dreams, standing just behind you.
You spin around. Nothing. Only the wind whispering across the pavement and the taste of ash in the air.
That night, you dream again.
You’re standing in a ruined field beneath a crimson sky. The ground is scorched black, the air thick with the scent of smoke and steel.
Ash drifts like snow, and in the distance, you see him, the red haired man.
He turns, eyes burning gold beneath the dying sun.
"You’re late,” he says softly. His voice is thunder wrapped in silk. “The demons are already stirring.”
“Who are you?” you ask.
He smiles faintly, sadness in his expression. “You once knew me. Before the worlds split.”
You reach for him, but the ground shatters beneath your feet. You fall through stars and shadow, through memories that aren’t yours.
Then the faceless demon returns, its form rippling like mist.
“The red sun rises once more,” it whispers.
“She who does not belong will walk between life and death. The worlds will burn, and only her blood shall silence the night.”
You try to speak, but your throat feels heavy, filled with starlight.
“You are not from this world,” it says.
“And soon, this world will remember that.
You jolt awake.
The clock reads 3:33 a.m. The room is dark except for the faint red glow from your charging phone.
But it isn’t the light that wakes you, it’s the shrill ring of your phone cutting through the silence.
You fumble for it, your heart pounding. “Hello?”
All you hear at first is ragged breathing. Then Alison’s voice, trembling.
“Rin” She gasps, voice shaking. “The.. the signal. It's changed.”
You sit up, adrenaline spiking. “What do you mean it changed?”
“It’s- oh god.. it’s not noise anymore.” Her words come in stutters, half choked.
“It’s... it’s speaking. It’s saying your name. Over and over.”
The room feels smaller suddenly, as if the air itself is listening.
“Alison, slow down. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she whispers, voice breaking. “I heard it. Clear as day. It said your name like it knew you.”
Your stomach drops. “Get out of the lab, Alison. Just go.”
“I” She stops, and for a moment you only hear static. Then, faintly: “It’s louder now... Rin, it’s-”
The line cuts off.
Outside, the red glow floods your window, bright and pulsing, rhythmic like a heartbeat.
You rise from bed, drawn toward the light. It spills across the floor, washing everything in crimson.
You grab your keys and sprint to the car, adrenaline pushing your legs faster than they should move. Your hands shake as you unlock the door, fumbling to start the engine.
Then you look up.
A bright star hangs low in the sky a fiery ball of molten red, impossibly close.
Your mind calculates the physics instinctively. The gravitational pull alone should have ripped Earth apart.
But it hasn’t. It’s not moving closer. It had to be the phenomena. It is pulsing with an energy that defies reason.
Your breath catches, and you slam the door shut, gripping the steering wheel with trembling hands.
You hit the accelerator, tires squealing on wet asphalt. Your head snaps from side to side, trying to process what you’re seeing.
And then, in the middle of the road, a deer.
It stands perfectly still, golden eyes locked on you. Its dark coat glimmers in the red light, mist curling around its legs like smoke.
For a moment, time stretches. You slam the brakes, but the car refuses to stop in time.
Instinct takes over. You jerk the wheel hard. The tires scream against asphalt as the car spins. The deer darts aside, vanishing into the mist, unharmed.
And then you hit water.
A massive body of black water rises before you, reflecting the molten red sky.
Your stomach drops. The car slides forward, unstoppable, every second stretching impossibly long.
You fumble with the door and throw it open. The window is stuck at first, jamming against the frame.
Your fingers scrape as you push harder. With a final squeal, it rolls down, and you shove the door aside, leaping out just as the car tips over the edge.
The impact with the water steals your breath. Cold wraps around you like a vice, dragging at your limbs.
The car disappears beneath the waves with a scream of twisting metal. Darkness and liquid surround you.
And above it all, the red light.
The fiery orb hangs over the water, enormous, alive, pulsating with molten energy.
Your vision blurs, lungs screaming for air, as the world twists and folds. It is the last thing you see before everything fades.
_
When you open your eyes again, sunlight filters through a dense canopy.
Green.. The smell of wet wood and moss fills your lungs. You cough, shaking off the memory of water and fire as if it were a dream.
But your chest still burns, your pulse still races, and the forest around you feels… watchful.
You push yourself up. The ground is soft beneath your hands, the damp earth and fallen leaves soaking through your clothes.
Trees rise high above, thick and close knit, their bark slick with moisture.
Mist drifts along the ground, curling around your ankles like delicate fingers. Somewhere above, birds call. Comforting in their familiarity.
You stand and take a careful step, senses straining. The forest isn’t empty.
Shapes shift in the corners of your vision, shadows stretching just beyond recognition.
And for a fleeting moment, you swear you see a glimmer of colors high above, hidden in the leaves. Then it’s gone.
Only the green forest remains.