In the stillness of the night, everything was as it ought to be. The sky was faintly illuminated by the pale light of the stars; the air lay motionless, and time itself seemed to stand perfectly still. Then, quite suddenly, something unexpected occurred.

  At first, a shadow appeared — like a forgotten memory from ancient times — indistinct at the beginning, then swiftly expanding into darkness. When the boundary between time and space dissolved, golden lights suddenly spread across the sky. Shades of orange, crimson, and yellow intertwined and whirled like a spinning vortex. The colours flowed, trembled, and shifted shape as though they were notes from some primordial song.

  Anyone might have been enchanted by those lights; perhaps they would have watched them as one admires a work of art, captivated by their beauty. But I was not enthralled. Fear seized me. I longed to escape those lights at once, to look upon the sky again, to return to the world where I could breathe. Where was this place? Who — or what — had drawn me here? Questions flooded my mind, and I began to study my surroundings as though answers might reveal themselves.

  At that very moment, a deep, resonant voice echoed from somewhere unknown. It resembled the song of a whale rising from distant oceans; it belonged neither to a human nor to any creature I knew. The sound rose in reverberation, then fell again, whispering to my ears in a wavering rhythm.

  A chill ran through me. For an instant, the sharp cold of fear enveloped my entire body. I knew I would never forget that sound, for it felt like an ancient summons etched into the depths of my soul.

  Yet, as time passed, I began — strangely — to feel certain that the voice meant me no harm. It was not threatening. It was calling to me, but not compelling me. Its melody was gentle and soothing, like a friend within the unknown.

  I wished to ask who it was and what it wanted from me. I wanted to know where this place was, and where I was being taken. But when I opened my mouth, no sound emerged. The words vanished before they could touch the air.

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  No matter how I tried, my voice had disappeared. Here, in this peculiar world, there were only thoughts.

  The voice echoed a while longer, and then silence descended. The profound void of nothingness unsettled me, entwined with the cold, enclosing presence of the tunnel surrounding me. My fear gave way to anger. I wanted to cry out in fury, but my voice was still gone. Soon even my anger faded, leaving only the dark emptiness brought by the unknown.

  I continued to drift through the tunnel. I had no sense of how far I had travelled. Time seemed to have lost its authority here. At times it felt like an endless instant; at others, it passed as swiftly as the blink of an eye. The colours transformed, and patterns of light continually assumed new forms. I scarcely even felt as though I were moving — as though I were suspended within a timeless current in the depths of space.

  Amid this uncertainty, I began to think. Thinking allowed me, if only for a moment, to distance myself from the surreal presence that surrounded me. Was the being that had spoken truly there, or merely an echo within the tunnel?

  But no — it could not have been an echo. That voice had been conscious. It had been alive.

  I felt compelled to give it a name. The name Whaley came to mind, for its voice resembled the song of a whale rising from the deep seas.

  Then I had made contact with a living being. Yet it was one-sided. I longed to call out to it, but I possessed nothing but silence.

  Though this interaction unsettled me, it stirred my curiosity just as much. Would I one day decipher the meaning of that voice? Was it merely a recording, or was it speaking directly to me? And most importantly, what message did it seek to convey?

  Unable to find answers to these questions, I set them aside. There were more pressing concerns.

  Where did the end of the tunnel lead? How would I escape from here? Would I encounter it again?

  Yet a feeling lingered within me. If Whaley had wished to harm me, it would already have done so. So why was I here?

  There was a deep loneliness in its voice — sorrow, and a hidden tenderness. It sounded like the voice of an ancient being.

  Was it assigning me a task? And if so, what was I meant to do?

  As these thoughts occupied my mind, at last a light appeared ahead of me.

  And the end of the tunnel was finally in sight.