The blue box part 9: What Lurks in the Rift — What They Don't Want You to Know Scene 9  VIDEO

What Lurks in the Rift The crack in the shrine wall is no longer a line. It's an open wound. Obsidius looks at her as the purple eye beats in his hand with a rhythm that doesn't match his pulse. The crack is now the size of a fist, and its edges aren't broken plaster — they're something that shouldn't exist. A slowly moving black liquid material, like hot tar, dripping to the ground without touching anything. Each drop falls in slow motion, and before touching the wood it evaporates in a thread of smoke that smells of ozone and rot. On the other side, something breathes. It is not a sound that enters the ears. It is a vibration that is felt in the bones, in the teeth, in the membrane of Obsidius's left eye. 

Each inhalation of Hunger causes the crack to expand one millimeter. With each exhalation, let the entire sanctuary contract like a lung. The rhythm is hypnotic. The sanctuary is learning to breathe in time with something that does not belong to this world. The shadows in the corners have become denser. They don't move when the candles flicker. They have their own will. They stretch toward the crack like roots searching for water. "We don't have much time," says Lila. His voice has lost all calm. She stands away from the crack, her right hand pressing the silk patch over her empty socket. For the first time since Obsidius has met her, she seems vulnerable. It is not the all-powerful entity that crossed dimensions. She is a woman trapped in a crumbling sanctuary. -How much? —Kym asks. -Hours. Maybe less. —Hours or minutes? Lila hesitates. That's scarier than anything else. -Don't know. I have never been so close to Hunger without the protection of my world. Kym walks towards the crack. Not with fear — with determination. He stops a meter away and watches the movement of the black liquid. The Scorpion under his skin shines with a reddish light that flickers in time with the breathing of Hunger. "I know him," Kym says. Not to him. To this. The way he moves. The way he waits. It's just like the black ocean. —Have you been there? —Obsidius asks. -No. But I have seen it. In my nightmares. In the moments between sleeping and waking up. The Scorpio shows me things I shouldn't know. Lila takes her hand away from the patch. Its empty socket stares into the rift, as if it can see what Obsidius's eyes cannot. "Hunger can't completely pass through such a small crack," he says. But you can send fragments of yourself. Like cells breaking off from a larger body. And each fragment that crosses feeds on the reality of this side to grow. —Feed how? —Obsidius asks. —Consuming possibilities. Every decision you don't make, every path you don't choose, every future that closes—that's what eats. No blood. Not meat. Unrealized potential. The crack pulsates. A new sound emerges from the black liquid: not breathing, but something closer to a voice. A voice that does not use words, but images. Obsidius sees, for an instant, a million paths branching in front of him. In each one, a different decision. In the majority, Hunger wins. Kym takes a step back. "It's showing possible futures," he says. He wants you to see that resistance is useless. —Can you see them too? —Obsidius asks. -No. But the Scorpion does. He's telling me to be careful. That what Hunger shows is not always true. 

Sometimes it's just what he wants you to believe. Obsidius squeezes the purple eye in his hand. The heat of the object has increased to the point of being uncomfortable. Feel the membrane in your left eye respond to the eye, as if both were magnets attracting each other. "There are three options," says Lila. Give me my eye back to close the passage. Use it to look again and find a weakness. Or destroy it. —Destroy it? Kym asks. Can it be destroyed? —I've never tried it. But every anchor has a limit. Even those that come from my world. Lila speaks calmly, but Obsidius notices that she avoids looking directly at the eye. As if talking about destroying it were heresy. —What happens if I destroy it? —Obsidius asks. "The bridge between your world and mine is closed forever," says Lila. Hunger cannot enter. But I can't go back either. And the part of you that came from my world... fades away. “Disappear,” Kym translates. As if you had never existed. "And you, Lila," says Obsidius. What about you? Lila doesn't respond right away. When he does, his voice is lower. —I'm staying here. In this world. No eye, no anchor, no way to return to my full form. It would be like being dead, but awake. Knowing that I existed, but without being able to prove it. 

The crack expands another millimeter. The black liquid drips faster now. “There is a fourth option,” says Kym. Everyone looks at her. The gun in his hand hangs at his side, forgotten. His gaze is fixed on the crack, but not with fear. With recognition. —I can try to seal the crack from the other side. -As? —Lila asks. —The Scorpion is not just a brand. It's a key. And keys can close doors as well as open them. Kym speaks without looking at anyone. His right hand holds his left forearm, where the Scorpion shines under the skin with an intensity it has never shown before. The reddish light pulses in the same rhythm as the Hunger's breathing, as if the two were synchronized. "I don't know if it will work," he continues. And if it works, I don't know if I can go back. The Scorpion would allow me to reach through the crack, find the point where the Hunger is pressing, and close it from within. —Are you crazy? says Obsidius. You can't cross over to the other side. You don't know what's there. "I know what's up," Kym says. I've been dreaming about that place for as long as I can remember. The black ocean. The doors that open into the void. The faceless woman who walks towards a light that does not exist. That place is the origin of the Scorpion. And if there's any place I can find out who I was before they marked me, this is it. "You don't know if you'll come back," says Lila. "You don't know if you'll come back if Hunger sets in," Kym answers. At least I have a chance. Kym turns to Obsidius. For a moment, the hardness of his face softens. —I'm not going to ask you to come with me. I'm not going to ask you to wait for me. I just want you to know that if this works, the rift closes. And if it doesn't work... at least I tried. -Because? Obsidius asks. Why risk your life for us? Kym smiles. It's a sad smile that doesn't reach his eyes. —Because in the hallway of faded roses, when Lila touched your forehead, I was there. And I didn't do anything to stop it. I didn't say anything to warn you. I let a seven-year-old sell his memory without telling him what he was really losing. —That was twenty years ago. —And I've carried that every day since then. The silence that follows is heavier than any words. Obsidius looks at the two of them. Lila, who wants the eye to survive. Kym, who wants to cross the crack to close it. And in his hand, the purple eye that holds the key to everything. The crack emits a new sound. A crunch. Like glass that slowly breaks. From the black liquid emerges a shape: a thin tentacle, the thickness of a finger, which extends towards the center of the room with a slow but inexorable movement. He doesn't touch anything, but his presence fills the air with static electricity that makes your skin crawl. The candles in the sanctuary flicker. 

The cold intensifies until the breath of the three condenses into white clouds. "He's sending a fragment," says Lila. The first. To test the waters. To see if it can feed on this side. —Feed on what? —Obsidius asks. —Of reality itself. Every second that the tentacle is here, it is consuming the possibility of this moment happening otherwise. He is erasing alternative futures to strengthen himself. The black tentacle writhes in the air, like a tongue tasting the taste of the world. It reaches out toward the purple eye in Obsidius's hand, drawn to its light like an insect to a flame. “Obsidius,” Kym says urgently. You have to decide. Now. We don't have minutes. We have seconds. "If I give it back to Lila," says Obsidius, "she blocks the way." But what about the crack that is already open? "It closes with the eye," says Lila. But I have to be complete to do it. -Me too? Lila doesn't respond. You don't need to do it. "If I look again," Obsidius continues, "I may find an answer." But Hunger can use that moment to enter. "Yes," says Lila. —And if I destroy it... “We all lose,” Kym says. But Hunger does not win. Obsidius looks at the purple eye in his hand. Feel its weight. Its temperature. His story. The night of the tooth. The aisle of roses. The deal. Twenty years of lies. 

And behind everything, the presence of Hunger, waiting. Obsidius looks at the eye. Feel its heat, its pulse, its promise. A part of him wants to give it back to Lila, to end it all, to accept her disappearance. Another part wants to look through it once more, search for an answer it hasn't found yet. And another part, the smallest but the most firm, wants to make a fist and crush it. The black tentacle advances an inch. Then another. The tip divides into three thinner, finger-like branches, which open to surround the purple eye. “Decide,” Kym says. Obsidius. Now. Obsidius looks at the eye. Look at the crack. She looks at Kym, who is ready to cross her. Look at Lila, who is willing to lose everything to survive. And then he understands. It's not about winning. It's about not losing. It's about letting Hunger know that this world will not be an easy meal. Close your eyes. Feel the pulse of the eye in your palm. Feel the breath of the crack on your skin. He feels the weight of twenty years of a truth he is only beginning to understand. And open your hand. The purple eye falls to the ground. It doesn't break. But the moment it touches the wood, the light it emits changes. From deep purple to blinding white. And the entire sanctuary is filled with a light that does not come from any direction, that casts no shadows, that leaves no room for darkness. The black tentacle retracts with a snap. 

The crack trembles. Obsidius opens his eyes. "I'm not going to give it back," he says. I'm not going to destroy it. I'm not going to look again. —So what are you going to do? —Lila asks. —I'm going to use it. Take the eye off the ground. The white light slowly retreats, returning to the familiar purple. But there is something different now. The eye is not hot. It's cold. As if Obsidius' decision had changed his nature. —Use it for what? —Kym asks. Obsidius walks towards the rift. The black tentacle has withdrawn, but the liquid continues to drip, and the breathing of Hunger continues, slower now, more cautious. —To negotiate. -Negotiate? —Lila says in disbelief—. Hunger does not negotiate. Hunger consumes. It is a void with a will. There are no middle terms. —Everything consumes until it finds something it can't digest. Obsidius raises his eye in front of the crack. The membrane in his left eye pulses once, twice, and then opens. Not to look through it. To speak through her. He feels the connection establish itself—not with Lila, but with something bigger, older, hungrier. "Listen to me," he says, and his voice does not come out of his mouth but from the membrane, projecting towards the crack like a beam of light. I know you can hear me. I know you've been waiting. You have marked my memories. You have followed my trail through the membrane. You have opened this crack. I know you want to come in. The crack stops. The black liquid stops flowing. The tentacle remains motionless in the air, as if Hunger were listening. “But before you enter,” Obsidius continues, “I want you to know something. I've seen what you do. I have seen the worlds you have devoured. I have seen the civilizations you have erased. And I know how you work. The crack trembles. Not from fury. Out of curiosity. —This world is not like the others you have consumed. This world has something that yours did not have. -That? —Kym asks in a whisper. Obsidius doesn't respond out loud. But in his mind, the answer is clear: this world has someone who knows it exists. Who has seen it. That has faced him face to face in the black ocean. Who has seen what he did to Lila's world and everyone else's. And that he is not afraid. The tentacle slowly retreats towards the crack. The black liquid bubbles. And from the crack a voice emerges. Not the vibration from before, but a real voice. Made of sound. Made of air. Made from the possibility that someone is on the other side. -Interesting. The voice of Hunger is neither deep nor grave. It is flat. Empty. Like a room without furniture. "You say you're not afraid," the voice continues. But everyone is afraid. It's a matter of time. It's a matter of finding the right chink in the armor. "Maybe," says Obsidius. But maybe this time the armor won't have any cracks. The laughter of Hunger fills the sanctuary. It's not a mocking laugh. It is a laugh that recognizes a worthy adversary. The tentacle has been completely withdrawn. The crack is no longer expanding. 

The black liquid drips more slowly. "You've bought time," says the voice of Hunger, fading away. But time is the only thing I never lack. The sanctuary returns to normal. The shadows become still. The candles stop flickering. The temperature rises one degree. But the crack is still there. And everyone knows that Hunger has paused, not gone away. Obsidius lowers his purple eye. His hand shakes. But there is something new in his eyes: it is not hope. It is conviction. “Well,” Kym says. At least now we know he can talk. "And what can wait," says Lila. That's more dangerous than anything else. Obsidius looks at the crack. Then he looks at the eye in his hand. Then he looks at the two women who have defined his life in ways he is only beginning to understand. "So," he says. We have to find a way to close that rift before it stops waiting. —And how do you plan to do that? —Kym asks. Obsidius smiles. It is the smile of someone who has just discovered that he has nothing to lose. —I don't know yet. But I have the eye. I have the truth. And I have two people who owe me answers. He turns to Kym. —Let's start with you. Who were you before Ámbar?