The Hollow: Realm of Isolation
There was no sky.No ground.Just books.
Milo blinked awake on a floor that wasn't a floor. Shelves rose around him like forgotten monoliths, stretching so far upward they disappeared into a darkness that pulsed like a held breath.
He was in a library.But not the kind that comforted.This one was dead.
The air held no scent—no dust, no paper, no life. Just cold. Sterile. Heavy.
The titles on the spines repeated, over and over:
"Things I Almost Said.""Nobody Called Back.""Me, Myself, and I (Revised Edition)."
Every chair was empty. Every table clean. Every light bulb flickered with the guilt of being left on too long.
A faint ticking noise filled the space, though there were no clocks to be seen. It wasn't rhythm. It was decay measured in seconds.
Then came a whisper:
"You are now within the domain of Isolation."
[i.d.e.a.l.]'s voice, softer than ever. No sarcasm this time. No smugness. Just caution.
"Silence is survival here."
Milo stood, and something strange happened.
His footstep didn't echo.
His breath didn't fog.
His hand—he raised it, startled—was fading. Not in color. In presence. It looked like a smudge in a mirror, losing detail the more he stared.
"Nope," he muttered, trying to keep his voice light. "Nope nope nope."
But his voice didn't bounce back.
It went out... and vanished.
He walked. He thought maybe that would help. Movement felt like resistance. Like swimming through syrup.
No people.
No signs.
No [i.d.e.a.l.].
Only books. And more books. He pulled one from a shelf:
"My Opinions, Unshared."
He opened it. Every page was blank except for one sentence at the center.
"This didn't matter, so I didn't say it."
The book sighed. Then crumbled into ash in his hands.
Milo started talking to himself. Just to hear something.
"Okay, Milo, think. This is just another twisted dream realm. You've been in worse. Chicken suits, emotional saxophones... just breathe."
No response.
Even his inner monologue felt tired.
He screamed.
It sounded like nothing.
His voice dispersed in the air like it didn't deserve to exist.
Time didn't pass in The Hollow. It sat.
Milo's hands had fully blurred now. His feet left no trace. He couldn't even feel the weight of his own body.
It was like being erased. Not violently. Not all at once.
Just… softly. Like a memory losing meaning.
He dropped to his knees in the aisle between two endless shelves.
"I'm still here," he whispered, to no one.
Nothing answered.
He might have cried. But even his tears were quiet.
Then—
A flicker. A spark. A buzz.
[i.d.e.a.l.]'s voice returned, glitching slightly like a skipping record.
"...Detection systems compromised... Milo, can you hear me...?"
He gasped. "Yes! Yes, I'm—"
"Loneliness is not loud. It is not sharp. It is a slow subtraction of meaning."
"Stop monologuing and help me!"
"...Can't. Not until you anchor yourself. Find something. Anything real."
Milo stood, dizzy. "Anchor?"
Books. That's all he had.
He grabbed one at random:
"That One Joke I Was Too Afraid to Tell."
Flipped it open.
And there—one page, scribbled in ink:
"Knock knock.Who's there?Still me. Still trying."
Milo laughed. Not because it was funny. Because it was human.
The laugh echoed.
Echoed.
Echoed.
He froze. The first echo in hours.
A chair behind him moved.
Someone was sitting there now.
A figure. Hooded. Silent. Made of stitched-together shadows.
But not hostile.
They opened a book titled "I Wish I'd Said Hi" and slid it to Milo.
Inside: a photo. Blurred. A girl at her desk. Same classroom from the dream. Her head down.
On the back of the photo, written in pencil:
"If someone had sat beside me, maybe I wouldn't have disappeared."
The figure looked up.
And for just a second—
He saw her face.
Milo sat beside the figure.
Didn't speak.
Didn't need to.
The library was still quiet.
But he wasn't alone.
He was remembered.
And slowly—slowly—his hands began to return.
[i.d.e.a.l.], softly:
"Good. Good. She remembers you, too.""But the Mask is coming. And it doesn't like to be seen."
The lights flickered once.
Then the shelves began to shake.