It was a deeply strange experience.
With just one drag of the smoke, Lynch felt a profound sense of peace and serenity wash over his heart, making everything feel inexplicably weightless.
It was as if a vibrant filter had been placed over his vision, making everything around him burst into life.
A young elementary school student wearing glasses and a bowtie pointed at him and shouted something. A group of little blue imps danced and sang around a black-robed warlock. A man with a center part pushed open the heavy doors of a police station while holding a pistol with utmost caution. A hideous bug suddenly burst through a man's chest and wriggled out, vanishing swiftly into the shadows.
Scenes—both familiar and alien—interwove before his eyes. For a split second, Lynch even felt as though he had turned into a massive, bizarre mass of darkness, churning and surging beneath the crimson moonlight, twisting and shape-shifting endlessly. As the scenes shifted, the anxious faces of Lady Diana and Officer Natalie flashed past from time to time. Their lips opened and closed repeatedly as if shouting at the top of their lungs, but to Lynch's ears, their voices grew loud and faint, near and far, fast and slow. Rather than language, they sounded like a sequence of meaningless syllables.
I'm fine. I'm great. I've never been better.
This red umbrella mushroom probably isn't fully cooked; another ten minutes in the pan should do it.
Lynch didn't know if he was smiling, nor whether he had actually spoken those words out loud. He only felt his thoughts growing increasingly sluggish, to the point where he couldn't even be bothered to contemplate his current state.
Everything before him gradually warped into a meaningless blur of color. Time, space, and even his own consciousness ceased to exist as Lynch felt himself merge completely with his surroundings.
Just as his consciousness began to drift away entirely, a familiar voice echoed in his ear.
“This is direct communication between minds. Hold on to your consciousness and stay awake; the ritual has only just begun.”
Ms. Skye's voice sounded cool and calm, yet it struck Lynch like a bolt of lightning, jolting him alert.
Right, I'm stepping into the River of Time.
Lynch rallied his spirit, guarding the fire of his consciousness to maintain his last shred of sanity amid the shifting light, shadows, and endless stray thoughts in front of him.
“Now, the ritual formally begins.” Midst his chaotic thoughts, Ms. Skye's voice leisurely explained, “The River of Time flows beyond human perception. Stepping into it requires awareness as a prerequisite. For someone without temporal authority, perceiving the existence of the River of Time—which exists only in abstract form—is virtually impossible under normal conditions. Only by stripping away your consciousness and blurring the boundary between concept and substance in a trance can you catch a fleeting glimpse of its presence. Take another drag; it's not quite enough.”
Lynch didn't know if he had obeyed her instructions. His mind had already descended into a chaotic trance, completely unable to perceive anything from the mortal world. Yet he must have, because he clearly felt his thoughts slowing down even further while the chaotic hallucinations flickered faster and faster, scene after scene flooding his entire conscious world.
Ms. Skye's voice soon sounded again:
“Very good. For eras, prophets and sorcerers have used hallucinogens as aids to enter an ethereal state as quickly as possible—the exact state you are in right now. It makes it easier for them to perceive the flow of the River of Time. Lacther fungus is the finest hallucinogen for confusing reality with fantasy. I hope your imagination isn't too overactive, and I hope you haven't consumed too much useless literature, or else your mental realm must be quite a spectacle right now. Take one more drag, then focus your mind, clear your brain, and perceive it with all your spirit.”
Clinging tightly to his last remaining shred of reason, his numb brain forced itself to function. The chaotic hallucinations gradually dissolved, and his consciousness felt as though it had been placed in a vast universe. Beneath him stretched a galaxy of blue light, forged from countless glowing specks. The 'galaxy' rotated slowly like a colossal vortex.
“Don't be nervous. I added a bit of Psyche Butterfly scales and Day-Wither Vine leaves for you. Psyche butterflies are born at dawn and die at dusk, while Day-Wither Vines wither by day and flourish by night; they are the supreme symbols of time. They will guide your consciousness to perceive the trajectory of the River of Time. I don't know what you are seeing, but whatever it is, there is no need to panic. Everyone understands time differently, so the River of Time each person perceives is entirely unique. Have no doubt—that is the River of Time. Now... step inside.”
Lynch felt his mind sink abruptly, spinning as he plummeted down toward the swirling blue galaxy below. As he spiraled alongside the vortex, his consciousness gradually cleared, and his seemingly nonexistent body began to haze back into reality.
“Dream Soul Flowers traverse between the Dreamlands and reality. Using Dream Soul Flowers as a medium, the mind that was stripped away and fell into the River of Time will solidify, simulating the process of a dream spilling into reality. This allows your mind to take physical form within a conceptual realm—reversing the method the Hounds of Tindalos use to leap from the River of Time into the mortal world. Now, take the final drag. I have already integrated the Silver Key into it. Follow the guidance of your mind, and you will naturally find the Gate of the Silver Key. Well then, best of luck to you. I look forward to your safe return.”
The next moment, Lynch suddenly felt as though he were falling from a great height in his sleep, and he jerked awake with a start.
Opening his eyes, he was met with a sight he would never forget for the rest of his life.
He was floating in a pitch-black expanse, a darkness like a deep universe, yet void of any sun, moon, or stars.
Only a beam of blue light pierced through the darkness, extending in both directions right before his eyes—without beginning and without end.
Lynch stood directly inside this pillar of light. Beneath his feet lay nothing but intangible radiance, yet it felt as if he were standing on solid ground. Specks of blue glimmer drifted all around him, falling softly like a gentle blue snowfall. It was beautiful, like a dream one never wished to awaken from, as the translucent, sparkling motes of light passed through Lynch's semi-transparent body and dissolved into the light pillar underfoot.
Huh?
Lynch looked down at himself in surprise, discovering that his body truly had become semi-transparent. Touching himself gave off a semi-solid, gel-like sensation. Reaching into his pockets, he found all his belongings still with him—even the Yithian box was there.
Have I successfully entered the River of Time?
Lynch looked around in disbelief. Visually, the pillar of light gave off an unsettling sense of jarring incongruity—it appeared barely larger than he was, yet simultaneously felt vast enough to hold all things in existence, as though the very concept of space had warped in this place.
He reached out to touch those blue specks of light, but his hand suffered the same fate as his body as the light passed through it effortlessly.
Just as he was wondering what these motes of light were, a flash of light suddenly erupted before Lynch's eyes.
A mass of light far brighter than the blue specks burst open, and a figure materialized before Lynch.
It was a grotesque entity composed of blue smoke, shaped like a beast with vaguely distinguishable limbs. Its head protruded forward into a pointed snout like that of an anteater, from which a long, thin tongue flicked in and out. The tongue was hollow, as though concealing infinite darkness within.
The blue, monstrous entity ripped through the raining light and appeared out of nowhere. Above its snout, two clusters of chilling light suddenly ignited, casting a freezing gaze straight at Lynch ahead.
A Hound of Tindalos.
Rate on N.U.
