The tear hovered between the ancient trees like a wound in the world—shimmering, trembling, exhaling a faint, icy breeze that didn’t belong in the heavy, humid air of the dinosaur age. It distorted the space around it, bending the light so that the trees behind it warped and twisted as though seen through rippling water.Marla stepped closer before she realized what she was doing. The cold air washed over her skin, raising goosebumps. A familiar dread settled in her chest—like the sensation she’d had just before they were torn from their own time.
Andrew grabbed her wrist. “Marla. Wait.”
Garrison’s face hardened. “Don’t get near it. Not unless you want to end up somewhere worse than here.”
Andrew turned to him sharply. “You’ve seen it before?”
“Seen it?” Garrison hissed. “I’ve watched people walk into it. I watched them scream as they disappeared. Not one came back.”
Marla’s voice shook. “Is that how you got here?”
He shook his head. “My tear was different. Smaller. Flickered out right after I fell through. This one…” He gestured at the shimmering wound. “This one keeps growing.”
Indeed, as they watched, the edges of the tear quivered and stretched outward, like skin being pulled apart by invisible hooks. A faint crackle—almost like electricity—zigzagged along its surface.
Andrew frowned. “It looks unstable.”
“It’s unstable because something’s pushing through,” Garrison said. “It didn’t look like this last time I passed here.”
Marla’s breath hitched. “Something from… our world?”
Garrison shook his head slowly. “I don’t think this connects to your time. Or mine.”
Marla turned to the tear again, her heart pounding.
Inside the shimmering light, shapes flickered—dark silhouettes, stretching tall and unnatural. One moment they seemed like trees. The next, like people. Then something else entirely. Something with too many limbs.
A whisper drifted out.
Soft. Feather-light.
Like someone calling her name.
Marla stepped back. “Did you hear—?”
“No,” Garrison snapped. “No, you didn’t. That’s what it wants.”
The forest around them seemed to hold its breath. Even the insects stilled.
Andrew swallowed hard. “If this tear isn’t ours, then where does it lead?”
“Somewhere that shouldn’t exist,” Garrison murmured.
A sudden shriek tore through the canopy above them. The treetops shook violently as something circled overhead.
The Quetzalcoatlus.
Garrison cursed under his breath. “We need to move. Now.”
But as they turned from the tear, the trembling ground rippled beneath their feet. Leaves shivered. Trees groaned.
Andrew froze. “What is that?”
Another tremor. Then another—heavier this time.
Garrison’s eyes widened. “Something’s coming.”
A massive shape moved through the distant trees, bending them aside as though they were grass. A deep, throaty growl rolled across the ridge, thick with power and menace.
“That’s not the diplodocus,” Marla whispered.
“No,” Garrison said, voice tight. “That’s something that hunts them.”
The tear behind them pulsed—brightening, crackling, whining like something alive.
The monstrous shape pushed closer. The Quetzalcoatlus screeched overhead. The air buzzed with dread.
Garrison pointed downhill. “Run. Now.”
But before their legs could obey, the tear exploded with a burst of blinding light—showering the forest with a shriek that didn’t sound like anything human.
And something stepped out.
Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model
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