Chapter 2: The Door That Shouldn’t Be

Isaac Delaney wasn’t the kind of kid anyone noticed. At seventeen, he’d perfected the art of blending in: average grades, average looks, and a knack for avoiding eye contact in crowded hallways. His life in the quiet, sun-drenched town of Greenhaven was so predictable it bordered on boring. But there was one thing that set him apart—a recurring dream he couldn’t explain.

Every night, for as long as he could remember, Isaac dreamt of the same thing: a black door with no handle, standing alone in the middle of a misty, endless field. It was always the same. He’d walk toward it, heart pounding, but just as he reached out, the dream would end, yanking him back into the monotony of his normal life.

Until the day it wasn’t a dream.

It started like any other Thursday. Isaac trudged home from school, earbuds in, ignoring the world. The old Victorian house he shared with his aunt and younger sister, Chloe, loomed at the end of the street, its chipped paint and overgrown yard a constant reminder of his family’s struggles since his parents’ accident.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of old books and something faintly metallic. Chloe was sprawled on the couch, lost in her favorite detective show, and their aunt was working late at the diner again. Isaac muttered a half-hearted “Hey” and headed upstairs to his room, desperate for a break from reality.

That’s when he saw it.

The door.

It stood at the far end of his room, where his closet should have been, a tall black rectangle that seemed to drink in the light. There was no handle, just as in his dreams, but now it was here—real, solid, and utterly out of place.

Isaac froze, his breath catching in his throat. He blinked, hoping it would vanish, but the door remained, casting a faint shadow across the floor.

“Chloe?” he called, his voice shaking slightly.

“What?” she yelled back from downstairs, oblivious.

Isaac edged closer to the door, his heartbeat a drum in his ears. The air around it felt colder, charged with an energy that made the hairs on his arms stand up. Despite every instinct telling him to back away, he reached out.

The moment his fingers brushed the smooth, cold surface, the door opened with a soundless hiss.

Beyond was not his closet. It was another world.

Isaac stepped forward, as if pulled by an invisible thread. The air changed immediately, crisp and sharp with the scent of pine and something floral he couldn’t place. He stood on the edge of a dense forest, the ground soft and springy beneath his sneakers. Shafts of golden light filtered through the canopy, and somewhere in the distance, a brook babbled softly.

But this wasn’t just a forest. Everything felt... alive in a way that was impossible to describe. The trees seemed to hum faintly, their leaves shimmering like liquid gold. The sky was a deep violet, streaked with ribbons of green light that twisted and danced.

Isaac turned to look behind him. The door was still there, standing free in the middle of the clearing, an impossible portal back to his bedroom.

“What the hell is this?” he whispered.

Before he could gather his thoughts, a sharp rustling in the underbrush made him spin around. From the shadows emerged a figure—tall and cloaked, their face obscured by a hood.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the figure said, their voice low and steady.

Isaac took a step back, instinctively raising his hands. “I didn’t mean to! I don’t even know what this is!”

The figure tilted their head, as if studying him. “You touched the door. That means you’re one of them.”

“One of who?” Isaac asked, his voice cracking.

The figure didn’t answer. Instead, they reached into their cloak and pulled out a slender staff that crackled with blue energy.

“Wait—hold on!” Isaac stammered, backing toward the door.

The figure raised the staff, and for a moment, Isaac thought they were going to attack. But instead, they slammed the staff into the ground. A pulse of energy rippled outward, and suddenly, the forest around him shifted.

The golden leaves dimmed, the brook silenced, and the air turned heavy. Shadows crept closer, twisting unnaturally, as if drawn to him.

“You’ve opened the Veil,” the figure said grimly. “Now they’ll come for you.”

Isaac didn’t know who they were, but the panic rising in his chest told him he didn’t want to find out. Without thinking, he turned and sprinted back toward the black door. The shadows lunged after him, their cold tendrils brushing against his legs.

He dove through the door just as the darkness closed in, slamming it shut behind him.

For a moment, he lay on his bedroom floor, gasping for breath, his heart hammering in his chest. The door was gone, replaced by his familiar, cluttered closet. Everything looked normal again.

But Isaac knew his life would never be normal again.

Somehow, he had crossed into another world. And whatever he’d unleashed—whatever was lurking beyond the Veil—wasn’t going to stay there for long.