The bus crawled down the deserted highway, its headlights weak compared to the storm forming overhead. Midnight had already passed, and the world was unnaturally quiet—no passing cars, no distant horns, not even the usual night breeze. It was as if the storm had swallowed every sound.
Inside the bus, the atmosphere was tense. People sat stiffly, whispering to each other or checking their phones repeatedly, hoping for news, reassurance—anything. But the only thing every phone showed was the same strange warning that had arrived minutes earlier:
"Emergency Alert: A cosmic atmospheric disturbance detected. Stay inside any enclosed vehicle. Do not panic."
After that, the network crashed.
Ayes sat near the window, resting his temple against the cold glass. His fingers lay lightly on the fogged surface, tracing absentminded lines. The entire day had been exhausting. First the strange weather, then the blackout downtown, then the incomplete emergency warning from the government. Nothing made sense anymore.
But even among all the confusion, it was the sky that troubled him the most.
Above the city, the clouds didn't behave naturally. They twisted in spirals, overlapping each other like giant coils. Deep inside the cloud layers, something glowed faintly—shades of purple, blue, and silver swirling like cosmic gas in a galaxy. The sky felt alive, watching everything below with an invisible presence.
Ayes inhaled slowly, staring up at the strange lights above.
Then the wind changed.
A heavy gust swept across the highway, pushing against the bus so hard that it shook sideways. The driver cursed under his breath, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. Several passengers straightened in their seats. Someone murmured, "This is getting worse… we shouldn't be out here."
A faint buzzing sound filled the air—like millions of tiny vibrations overlapping.
The hair on Ayes's arms stood on end.
He drew his hand back from the window, confused by the growing warmth of the glass.
Then—
BOOM.
A deafening explosion cracked through the sky, so loud it felt like the earth itself had split in half. The entire bus jolted violently. Windows rattled, metal groaned, and dust fell from the ceiling.
A split second later came the light.
A brilliant, blinding flash of purple lightning tore across the sky, weaving like a serpent made of pure plasma. It didn't zigzag like normal lightning. It moved with intention—straight, controlled, almost intelligent.
Ayes watched in shock as the lightning curved downward, heading directly toward the road.
His heart stopped.
The passengers screamed.
The driver tried to swerve.But the lightning wasn't simply falling—
It was targeting the bus.
And in the next moment, it struck.
---
The bolt of purple lightning slammed into the top of the bus with the force of a meteor. The explosion that followed wasn't fire or shrapnel—it was pure electrical energy, spreading in a perfect circle around the impact point. The shockwave rattled the entire metal structure, bending parts of the roof and sending a vibration through every bolt, panel, and beam.
The windows exploded outward in spiderweb cracks.
Lights burst with a loud pop.
Every phone screen in the bus turned white.
Ayes's hand was still near the window when the lightning hit.
And that was the exact moment the cosmic electricity surged through him.
It wasn't like normal electricity. It didn't burn or tear at his nerves. Instead, it felt like a flood of glowing energy rushing through every cell. It moved inside him like flowing starlight—warm, bright, overwhelming. His body didn't convulse; instead, it felt suspended, held in place by invisible threads of light.
His vision flickered between reality and something else:
Galaxies spinning.
Starlight pulsing in slow motion.
Nebulas swirling.
Endless darkness filled with glowing particles.
For a few seconds, it felt like the universe was passing through him.
He could hear faint sounds—not voices, not thunder, but something like distant hums, ancient and echoing. Each vibration resonated through his bones, leaving a tingling sensation that spread from his hand to his chest, then through every limb.
Then, just as suddenly as it came, the surge softened.
His vision snapped back to the inside of the bus.
Screams echoed.
People were gripping their seats in terror. Some had fallen into the aisle. A few were crying, shielding their heads, thinking another strike was coming. The driver was struggling to stay conscious, his arms trembling on the steering wheel.
But Ayes wasn't focused on them.
He was staring at his own hand—still glowing faintly with violet sparks that danced across his skin before fading into the air. His entire arm tingled. His breath came in short bursts. His heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears, out of rhythm, like it was reacting to something that wasn't human.
"What… was that?" he whispered.
But no one answered.
Because at that moment—
The second wave arrived.
---
The Cosmic Pulse
The lightning strike wasn't the end.
It was just the beginning.
The sky above the bus rippled like the surface of water. The swirling clouds spiraled faster, forming a massive vortex. Light gathered inside it—blinding, radiant, trembling with power. The colors shifted rapidly between purple, gold, and icy blue, as if the sky itself was melting into pure energy.
Then…
A pulse spread outward.
Not light.
Not wind.
Not thunder.
Something else entirely.
It passed through the atmosphere quietly, yet when it reached the earth, the ground trembled under its weight. The air thickened instantly, becoming heavy and warm, pressing down on every surface.
Ayes barely had time to react.
His chest tightened.
The world started spinning.
The passengers froze—some mid-scream, others mid-movement—before they slumped in their seats. It wasn't violent. It wasn't painful. It felt like a soft wave of drowsiness, multiplied a hundred times over.
Someone near the back whispered, "I… I can't… keep my eyes…"
And they fell unconscious.
One by one, every passenger collapsed.
Some leaned against the windows.
Some slid into the aisle.
Others simply dropped their heads forward as if falling asleep instantly.
Ayes felt the pulse entering his mind too.
His eyelids grew heavy.
His breathing slowed.
His thoughts slipped away like sand through fingers.
"No… not yet…" he whispered, trying to fight it.
But the cosmic energy flowing inside him didn't let him resist.
His vision blurred a final time.
The last thing he saw was the sky opening—
as if a massive gateway of light was appearing above the world.
Then darkness overtook him completely.
....
Ayes opened his eyes slowly, as if the world around him had thickened into something heavy, something that resisted every movement. At first, everything was a haze—shadows mixing with dull colors, broken shapes merging together, the ringing inside his ears drowning out all other sound. He blinked again, harder this time, and the blur began to sharpen.
He was inside the bus.
Or… what was left of the bus.
The metallic frame that had once been clean and familiar was now twisted like softened clay, bent inward at impossible angles. Seats were tilted or snapped off entirely. Glass glittered across the floor like tiny stars spilled from the sky. A faint scent of burning plastic and wet soil clung to the air, reminding him of the purple lightning that had fallen on them like a furious strike from the heavens.
Ayes pushed himself up, wincing. His muscles felt numb, tingling, as if something electric still lingered beneath his skin. The hand he lifted trembled—not in fear, but in something stranger, something he couldn't yet explain. He placed that same hand on the nearest seat to steady himself and forced his breathing to slow.
His vision finally cleared.
Two other people , seated a little further up the aisle, were beginning to stir as well, rubbing their eyes and groaning softly. They looked as confused and dazed as he felt. Beyond them, scattered across the wrecked bus, lay the rest—around fifteen others, still unconscious, unmoving but breathing.
A fresh spike of worry shot through him.
His gaze moved immediately to the right—where his childhood friend should have been.
Kai.
There he was, lying on his side beside Ayes, motionless except for the slow rise and fall of his chest. His dark hair was messy, his shirt torn near the shoulder, but otherwise he seemed uninjured. Ayes felt a wave of relief wash through him so strongly it nearly toppled him. Carefully, he reached out and shook Kai's shoulder.
"Kai… hey. Wake up," he whispered, hoping his voice didn't sound as weak as it felt.
Kai didn't move, but he seemed peaceful enough, as though only heavily asleep.
At least he's alive.
Ayes exhaled and leaned back against the broken seat behind him. The memory of what had happened replayed in his mind in flickers—the purple lightning crashing down from the sky, the blinding flash, the shockwave that had thrown them all off their seats. His hands had been pressed against the bus window when the lightning hit; he remembered the feeling of power—strange, cosmic power—surging through him like nothing he had ever imagined.
And then everything had gone dark.
His head throbbed faintly at the thought.
Trying to regain some sense of time, he lifted his wrist, but when he looked at his watch, he froze. The glass face was shattered into spiderweb patterns. Not only shattered—the screen behind it was entirely off, lifeless, no flicker, no sound.
"Great…" Ayes muttered softly. "Just great."
He lowered his arm and finally turned his attention outside the bus.
What he saw made every remaining trace of sleep vanish from his mind.
The world outside was dark—not nighttime, but something else. It was the kind of darkness created by something blocking the sunlight, not the absence of sun itself. The environment looked incredibly dense, with massive trees rising like giants on all sides. Their trunks were broad, covered in thick layers of moss and vines. Their branches stretched high above, woven tightly together, letting only the faintest threads of sunlight filter through—thin, pale rays that touched the bus like hesitant fingers.
He had never seen trees so tall.
Or a forest so silent.
The shadows between the trunks were deep, almost liquid. Every movement of wind caused them to ripple in unsettling ways. For a moment, Ayes wondered if they were even in the same region anymore. Back home, forests were smaller, brighter, more familiar. This place felt ancient, untouched by roads or cities or humans.
It felt like a hidden world.
A world that didn't want them there.
He swallowed.
A soft groan behind him pulled him back. One of the slowly waking students rubbed his head and looked around with confusion.
"Ayes…? What happened?" the boy murmured.
Ayes shook his head. "I'm not sure. The lightning hit the bus… and then… this."
He didn't know how else to explain it.
How did one explain purple lightning? Or the impossible surge of energy he had felt echoing through his bones? Or the forest that looked nothing like the one they had been traveling through moments before they lost consciousness?
He pushed himself fully to his feet, bracing against the tilted wall of the bus as he rose. His legs wobbled slightly. The floor beneath him creaked, unstable.
The people outside of his immediate range were still unconscious, but he could see that all of them were breathing, which eased him a little. Some were slumped against seats, others collapsed in the aisle, others leaning against broken metal frames. They all displayed the same signs—exhaustion, confusion, shallow breathing.
He needed to wake them.
But before that—
He needed to understand where they were.
Ayes ducked under dangling wires and stepped toward the broken window, where the bus frame had peeled outward. He placed a hand on the twisted edge and leaned out slightly, his eyes scanning the forest around them.
The air outside felt heavy with moisture, but it wasn't cold—just thick. The ground beneath the bushes was layered with ferns and strange plants he had never seen before. Some had broad leaves shimmering faintly under the filtered sunlight. Others curled upward like spirals, almost glowing softly at the edges.
Even the sounds—or lack of them—were strange.
There were no birds.
No insects.
No rustling leaves.
Nothing.
Just silence.
Silence so complete it made his skin tighten.
"How far… did we go?" Ayes whispered to himself. "This can't be the same forest…"
He looked up at the sky, but the canopy was so dense he could see only fragments of brightness, too faint to tell the time of day.
A soft rustle behind him made him turn quickly.
Kai was moving.
His friend's fingers twitched, and then he exhaled sharply as his eyes fluttered open. He blinked up at Ayes, dazed.
"Ayes…? Where—? Why is everything spinning?" Kai murmured, pushing himself halfway upright.
Ayes hurried to his side. "Easy. You were knocked out. Are you okay?"
Kai rubbed his temples. "My head feels like someone hit it with a frying pan… twice." He looked around slowly, confusion deepening in his eyes. "What… happened to the bus? And—where are we?"
Ayes hesitated, then gestured toward the outside.
Kai leaned toward the broken window, and his expression immediately changed.
"Woah… Are those trees even real?"
"They're real," Ayes said softly. "And they weren't here before."
Kai turned back to him, eyes wide. "You mean… we moved? The bus… moved?"
"I don't know." Ayes shook his head. "But something happened when the lightning hit."
Kai stared at him for a long moment, searching for answers Ayes didn't have. He rubbed his arm absently. "Did you… feel anything? When the lightning struck?"
Ayes froze.
"Kinda," he admitted quietly. "Like… it went through me. I was touching the window when it hit."
Kai looked alarmed, but Ayes held up a hand. "I'm fine. Just… a bit weird."
Kai wasn't convinced, but he nodded slowly.
Ayes took a deep breath. "We need to wake the others. And then… we need to figure Kai nodded again, firmer this time. "Right. Before it gets darker."
Ayes didn't say it out loud, but he agreed completely.
There was something wrong with this forest.
Something hidden in the shadows between the giant trees.
Something that felt alive, watching, waiting.
And the sooner they understood it, the better. where we are."
After Kai regained his strength and a few more passengers began waking, Ayes moved carefully through the bus, checking each person. Nineteen people were conscious now—dazed, confused, or limping slightly, but awake. The remaining few were still sleeping deeply, too exhausted to rise, but still breathing steadily. Although some looked pale or shaken, none appeared to be in immediate danger.
Ayes was grateful for that—relieved, even—but it also meant the responsibility of guiding them fell on his shoulders. No one else seemed ready to think clearly yet. Even Kai, normally sharp and confident, still blinked slowly like his thoughts were struggling to catch up.
The wrecked bus could not protect them for long. Its roof was torn open, its metal groaning with every breeze. Strange sounds echoed faintly beyond the trees—low, distant vibrations that didn't sound like any animal he knew. The forest felt ancient, but alive in a way that whispered warnings.
They had to move.
"We need to get out of the bus," Ayes announced, raising his voice just enough for the group to hear. "We don't know if this place is safe. The structure is unstable."
A few heads nodded automatically. Others exchanged worried looks. But no one argued.
One by one, they climbed out through the broken side, stepping onto the soft moss-covered ground. The forest floor felt unusual beneath their shoes—springy, almost warm, like it stored energy. Ferns brushed against their legs. Giant roots twisted across the earth like massive coiled serpents.
The air felt thicker outside, scented with something unfamiliar—woody, damp, and faintly metallic.
Kai stepped beside Ayes, surveying their surroundings with a tense expression. "Whatever this place is… it's definitely not normal."
"No," Ayes agreed softly. "It feels too… big."
Not big in size—but big in presence.
The trees around them towered high enough to fade into darkness above. Their trunks glowed faintly with patterns like veins of dim purple and blue, pulsing subtly as if carrying energy rather than sap. The leaves shimmered slightly whenever a breeze passed through, releasing tiny droplets of glowing mist that drifted lazily down.
The forest wasn't just alive.
It was awake.
And it was watching.
Ayes took a slow breath. "Everyone, stay close. We'll move together. Keep quiet and follow one path unless we decide differently."
Nineteen people gathered behind him, forming a loose but determined group. Some leaned on others for support. Some hugged their backpacks tightly. A few whispered prayers under their breath. They were scared—of course they were—but they were relying on him now.
As they began walking, the forest shifted around them.
The sunlight filtered through cracks in the dense canopy, creating narrow beams like strands of gold guiding their path. But even those beams were dim, as if the forest allowed just enough light to see but not enough to feel secure.
Kai walked next to Ayes. "Do you think… we're still on Earth?"
Ayes shook his head slowly. "I don't know. But this forest doesn't look like anything I've seen."
They moved deeper.
And then—
A sound echoed from the left.
A low, resonant hum.
Not threatening… not at first. More like a vibration, carried through the roots beneath their feet. A soft tremor rippled through the ground, spreading outward like a wave. The group froze instinctively.
"What was that?" one of a boy whispered fearfully.
Ayes held up a hand. "Don't move."
Everyone waited.
The hum grew slightly louder, accompanied by a faint rustle among the leaves far above. Not a harsh sound—more like wings brushing softly against branches. Very large wings.
A deep shadow glided above the canopy, crossing the slivers of sunlight, and the group collectively held their breath.
They couldn't see what it was.
But they felt it.
Another hum vibrated through the air, and then silence.
The shadow disappeared.
Kai stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Ayes… we're not alone in this forest."
"I know."
They resumed walking, but now more cautiously.
The path was uneven, filled with twisting roots and strange plants that curled away when stepped on. A few glowing butterflies drifted through the air, leaving trails of soft blue light behind them. When one landed on a branch near Ayes, he stared at it in awe.
Its wings were translucent, patterned like fractals of delicate crystal. It made no sound, yet its presence felt soothing. A soft breeze made it lift into the air again, joining dozens more drifting between trees like floating stars.
"Beautiful," someone whispered behind him.
"It's not attacking us," Kai murmured. "Maybe not everything here is dangerous."
"Hopefully," Ayes replied.
But nature had its balance. Where beauty lived, danger often followed.
As they continued, they noticed claw marks on a fallen tree. Deep marks, too wide to be from any known animal. The bark was shredded, but not freshly—old scars, left by something strong. Something territorial.
A soft rumble echoed again, this time farther away.
Ayes tightened his grip on the broken stick he had picked up earlier. It wasn't much of a weapon—but the weight in his hand comforted him.
They walked for nearly twenty minutes before reaching an opening in the forest. The light here was slightly stronger, creating a clearing surrounded by trees whose glowing veins pulsed like a heartbeat.
Kai exhaled slowly. "Let's take a short rest here. People are exhausted."
Ayes nodded. Many of the group had been walking with difficulty—limping, breathing heavily, or clutching their sides. None were dangerously injured, but they were weakened, their bodies still recovering from whatever force had knocked them unconscious earlier.
He gestured for everyone to sit. They formed a loose circle around the clearing, some leaning against tree trunks, others kneeling in the soft moss.
While they rested, Ayes walked toward the edge of the clearing and stared deeper into the forest. A strange scent drifted on the wind—sweet but sharp, unlike any plant he knew.
Kai joined him. "Any signs of direction?"
"None," Ayes murmured. "But look…"
He pointed ahead.
There, faint on the side of a tree, was a marking—not natural. It looked like a symbol, carved roughly but intentionally. A spiral shape surrounded by three curved lines. It wasn't human. At least not human from their world.
Kai frowned. "Someone… or something intelligent made that."
Ayes nodded. "Which means we're not the first ones here."
Before they could discuss it further, a rustle echoed through the bushes.
Everyone turned sharply.
...