Info
Written by ReyDay, conceptualized by everyone who ever was, is, and will be
This page references/is inspired by the following works:
Introduction -> Object 54
Famine -> RED
Death -> Level 800.1
War -> Project Physeter
Conquest -> Echo of Creation
End? -> Confusion and clarity sharing a few words somewhere between life and death
Critics/Reviewers:
Spectre48
LiminalDoctor
Abdallah Amr
Red-eyes Dragoon
| Page Type | Articles |
|---|---|
| Author Page | ReyDay |
| Levels | Level 988 - “Belphegor’s Nightmare” |
| Unnumbered Levels | Death’s Door, The Celestial Cathedral(translated) |
| Sub-Layers | Level 800.1 |
| Entities | Coming Soon! |
| Unnumbered Entities | Coming Soon! |
| Objects | Object 48 - “Liquid Pain”, Object 33 - “RoboPets”, Object 64 - "Whisperers", Object 5-FR - “Anemophosis”(translated) |
| Phenomena | Phenomenon 28 - “Mourning Nothing In Particular” |
| Tales | The Echo of Creation, Five Years Since You Went Missing, Knight’s Gambit, INFINITY, For Christmas(translated) |
| Groups | Ariane Circle(translated), The Black Knights(owned) |
| POIs | Nyx(translated) |
| Canons | Black Knights(owned) |
| Joke Pages | Coming Soon! |
| Tech | Enchanted Forest Theme, Music Theme, Deep Sea Theme, Tesseract Theme, Ariane Circle Theme(translated) |
| Guides/Essays | Coming Soon! |
| Art | Diana Evelynn, Fia, Tess Welcome Banner |
Offsets
Offset 0
Name: Introduction
Offset 1
Name: Famine
Offset 2
Name: Death
Offset 3
Name: War
Offset 4
Name: Conquest
Offset 5
Name: End?
Somewhere between the last breath of night and the first murmur of dawn, they fell through reality, the fabric of spacetime stretching and warping their body. Into a world that was never meant to be touched they stumbled, one with no exit, where they would be trapped for eternity. . .
August leaned back in his chair and sighed in relief, basking in the glory of the completion of his first novel. Finally, after a year of writing and rewriting and editing, he was finished. He read over the opening line of his book a few more times, admiring his own genius.
He wasn’t exactly a very proud person, not even in his writing most of the time. He often sat and stared at his laptop screen, analyzing the words he’d written minutes prior, picking them apart letter by letter to find something, anything that would settle the uneasiness in the back of his head.
But this was different.
For once, he didn’t focus on flaws. He was relieved, overjoyed, even. He finally felt confidence in his work. He didn’t feel the innate urge to read it all over again or scrap a scene; he felt finished. Complete.
He copied the link to the Google Doc and sent it to his publisher, alongside the cover he commissioned from a friend. He wrote a few simple sentences and clicked "send", his dorky smile growing as he closed the lid of his laptop. He grabbed a glass and poured himself a glass of his favorite whiskey from the liquor cabinet: Jack Daniel’s Old No. 7. He slowly sipped on the glass for a minute or so, savoring the bitter yet comforting taste. He set the glass down in his kitchen sink and headed to his bedroom, carefully slipping under his duvet cover and slowly drifting off to sleep, thinking of what the future had in store for him and his soon-to-be publication.
If only August and all of his loyal readers had known of Dorothy Boulger, an English writer and novelist born in 1846. She wrote under the pen name Theo Gift, and published several novels in her lifetime, such as Pretty Miss Bellew and A Case of a Man and His Wife. While she was well-known for these works, what wasn’t well-known was the novella she had been writing in her final years. While she did finish her long-term passion project, she died in 1923 before having the opportunity to publish it. The script was left collecting dust in her office, eventually thrown out and forgotten. Titled The Yellow World, the book’s start reads:
"Somewhere between the last breath of night and the first murmur of dawn, they fell through reality, the fabric of spacetime stretching and warping their body. Into a world that was never meant to be touched they stumbled, one with no exit, where they would be trapped for eternity. . ."