Anomaly

Cries of pain and despair echoed through the area as the ration team members, along with Victor and Arthur, drank the lava to quench their thirst. Hoarse screams blended with the thick, viscous sound of the molten liquid being swallowed, and some of them even collapsed to their knees, shaking, unable to contain the agony.
Even so, in the end, everyone chose to drink, fully aware of how painful, unpleasant, and traumatizing the experience was, along with many other words Rupert tried to use to describe it. I, on the other hand, couldn’t feel absolutely anything while drinking the lava.
I stayed back, simply watching as they drank. Their bodies contorted almost instantly; their hands trembled and rose in desperation, clawing at their own throats as if trying to reach them at any cost.
Their faces, now intensely flushed, looked on the verge of bursting, and their breathing came in short, broken gasps, as though air itself had become an unattainable privilege.
Still, disturbingly enough, even in the face of their companions’ obvious suffering, none of them hesitated. They shut their eyes tight and forced more lava down their throats.
My sense of self-preservation and hesitation might be somewhat dysfunctional right now, but as far as I know, humans usually ignore something when they see that same something hurting other humans.
And yet, ironically, they did exactly the opposite of what human instincts would theoretically approve of: they didn’t look away, didn’t step back, didn’t flee.
The chorus of pain and despair slowly faded. Minutes later, all that remained were heavy breaths, broken by muffled groans, and bodies sprawled across the ground, either completely still or twitching in occasional spasms.
The faces of the anomaly response team members were deeply reddened, nearly scorched, and their breathing remained uneven, as if every inhale required conscious effort.
There was sweat too, far too much of it, streaming down their foreheads, mixing with soot and heat marks that still seemed to pulse beneath their skin. Even so, they all appeared, in some strange way, to be satisfied in terms of hydration.
At the very least, they were no longer gasping from thirst, but from pain. A good sign, I suppose? It was ironic, really: they had quenched their thirst by drinking lava... or something close enough to it.
Still lost in thought, Victor’s voice suddenly echoed, low, almost a hoarse murmur, yet clearly audible to both Rupert, who remained beside me, and me.
“I feel...” he began, cutting himself off. A brief, heavy pause followed, as if even the act of speaking caused extreme discomfort. Victor swallowed hard before continuing, his breathing uneven: “I feel like my throat... is drowning in lava”
That... was a remarkably accurate description. I didn’t feel immediate pain or discomfort myself, but I felt enough to know that it probably burned. I wasn’t entirely sure how hot it truly was, but judging by everyone’s reactions, the tense expressions, instinctive recoils, and alarmed looks, it seemed painfully hot. Hot enough to cause real suffering.
Arthur, who stood near Victor, slowly nodded: “I can’t say it was a pleasant experience... or something I’d ever want to repeat” he said with difficulty. His voice came out low, slightly unsteady.
The rest of the anomaly response team seemed to share similar thoughts. Still, all that followed from them was silence, a dense silence, heavy with exhaustion. None of them seemed willing to risk saying a single word at that moment.
Given that, I concluded it would be best to let them rest for a while. Not only to catch their breath, but to avoid pushing them any further. I may be oblivious at times, admitting that costs me nothing, but I can still remember that humans don’t have infinite endurance.
However, just before I could voice my thoughts, a sound echoed through the area. It didn’t arrive subtly, nor gently, it simply appeared. A guttural, deep sound, a roar reminiscent of a distorted scream, similar to a whale’s call, yet lower, more off-key, and deeply wrong.
It wasn’t human. It wasn’t animal. It was something impossible to define. It simply existed, vibrating through the air, pressing against our ears, causing immediate discomfort. Irritating. Invasive. Absurdly loud. As if the environment itself reacted to its presence.
“Hrrrrnn... ghaaak... hhhssaaa...”
A dragging noise echoed around us, somewhere between a sickly breath and a stifled cry, irregular and unsettling. It lingered too long to ignore, yet was too brief to fully grasp.
Instinctively, I turned toward the sound. Around me, the others did the same. In silence, several pairs of eyes aligned, fixed on the same direction, as if we all feared discovering the source of that indistinct lament.
But there was nothing. No silhouette. No shape. No trace of whatever had produced the noise. Only dust rising in the distance, thick and slow, making it impossible to see beyond that opaque veil.
We remained silent. No one seemed to know what to say, much less what to think. The sound still echoed in our minds, heavy and unsettling, but its origin remained a mystery, as uncertain as whatever had caused it in the first place.
The silence stretched on for several long seconds that felt like minutes. The air around us felt heavy, almost suffocating. Victor was the first to break it, his voice firm and controlled despite the obvious tension: “Let’s keep moving, before... whatever that thing is... gets closer to us. We already have more than enough problems to deal with. So let’s avoid combat whenever possible”
As Victor’s words echoed, everyone stood up almost as if hypnotized. Their faces were still flushed, their breathing uneven, clear signs of the recent strain and the lingering tension in the air.
Still, there were no complaints or additional words. They simply clenched their teeth and obeyed, driven more by instinct than by will. Within seconds, we were ready to move again.
Now and then, however, someone cast a wary glance toward the direction where we had heard the sound. Was it a noise? A grunt? A muffled cry? Whatever it had been, it left an invisible mark on all of them.
Some seemed to expect that the thing responsible would emerge at any moment, tearing through the darkness ahead of us. But nothing appeared. Nor did we hear any further sound to suggest that whatever presence it was still lingered nearby.
We resumed our march across the desolate land. No one looked truly dead, just exhausted. And believe me, there’s a vast difference between dead and tired. Our steps were heavy, our gazes empty, and the silence was broken only by the scraping of boots against dry ground.
Leaving them to their own thoughts, I continued following the presence of my sister, that constant sensation pulling my mind in the same direction. I was still confused by everything we had experienced: all the anomalies, all the phenomena we had become entangled with.
Had all of this been created by her? Did my sister really possess that much power? Power to create things out of nothing, to shape reality as if it were clay? I had never stopped to ask myself that before. And if it were true... then my other sisters could do the same, right?
And if that really was the case... couldn’t I do it too? Create something from nothing? Technically, I created Victor’s sister to serve as a vessel. I created a human being, flesh, mind, and purpose shaped by my will. So... what else might I be capable of? Where, exactly, were my limits?
The truth was, I didn’t even understand what my sisters were truly capable of. Death, life, chaos, time, order... words far too grand, concepts far too abstract. I spoke them, but I couldn’t define what they actually meant. They were flimsy labels for forces that escaped my understanding.
When I first met them, they caused a certain level of chaos, yes, cracks in reality, unlikely events, subtle distortions. But this... what we’re living through now goes far beyond that. It’s excessive, overwhelming, completely insane.
So then... what the hell are my sisters, really? Entities? Living concepts? Fundamental errors of existence? And perhaps even more disturbing... what the hell am I? I had never stopped to question my own identity. I never needed to. I simply was who I was. At least... until now.
I kept walking, drifting through scattered thoughts, letting them come and go without lingering on any of them. The steady rhythm of my footsteps seemed to echo that temporary emptiness in my mind, until Victor’s voice broke in beside me, low, but clear enough for me to hear: “What’s wrong? You look... strange”
I turned toward him, trying to understand what the hell he meant by that. As if he’d picked up on my thoughts, Victor continued, averting his gaze from me and fixing it on the devastated lands ahead of us: “Your face... it’s usually pretty indifferent. The kind that makes it impossible to tell whether you’re thinking about something or just... existing” He paused briefly: “But now, it’s still indifferent. The difference is, you can tell: you’re indifferent because you’re thinking”
Victor’s words left me unsettled. Did my indifference really have layers? Subtle levels, refined enough for my mood to show through? As that doubt took root in my mind, I turned my head toward Rupert, who was walking on my other side.
Noticing my lingering stare, his eyes met mine for a brief moment before sliding back to Victor. Then he simply shrugged, as if the matter wasn’t worth the effort.
“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow with casual disdain: “I have no idea what he’s talking about. You look just as alien to me as you did the day I met you”
I chose to ignore the fact that Rupert had called me an alien and turned my attention back to the devastated land ahead, shrouded in a thick cloud of dust that made it impossible to see more than a few meters away.
I wasn’t sure how long we’d been walking, but the exhaustion etched on everyone’s faces made it clear it had been hours. All of us moved forward with our heads lowered, in silence.
I could still feel my sister’s presence, a faint sensation, almost like an invisible thread pulling me forward, though I couldn’t tell whether she was close... or far away.
“Hey! Look!” The unfamiliar voice rang out urgently. It was one of the reaction team members, stepping forward as he stretched out his arm.
His finger trembled slightly as he pointed ahead, indicating something in the distance that couldn’t yet be seen clearly, but had unmistakably caught his attention.
When I looked in the direction he indicated, my eyes landed on a dark forest. The trees stood bare, not a single leaf clinging to their twisted branches, as if all life had been drained from that place. The air felt heavy, almost suffocating, and an unsettling silence hung over everything.
Even so, despite the dead landscape, I could feel my sister’s presence coming from deep within the forest, from some unseen point ahead of us. Victor seemed to sense it as well, his gaze narrowed, his body tensed, as if that silent call had reached him too.
“My instincts are screaming at me to avoid that forest at all costs and run as fast as we can in the opposite direction” Then he let out a crooked, almost taunting smile: “Which probably means we’re on the right path”
There was no denying it. A heavy sense of foreboding settled in the air, and against all logic, it only reinforced the feeling that there was no turning back.