Project Dimonac

Chapter 1

Evenings in the dorm had a way of feeling endless, quiet, except for the occasional distant laugh or the hum of the radiator. I was bent over my math notes, pencils scribbling away, trying to make sense of some problem that felt more like a puzzle than homework. That was my comfort zone: logic, numbers, patterns. The world felt like it had rules, and if I could understand them, maybe I could push them further.

My roommate, Ormond, was the exact opposite. Pale skin, black hair that never seemed tamed, piercing blue eyes that always looked like they were calculating something I couldn’t see. He was tall, skinny, always dressed in black from head to toe, like he’d stepped out of some gothic novel rather than a college dorm. And he had that energy, chaotic, relentless, that made it impossible to ignore him.

He leaned over my desk, breaking my concentration. “Scott! You’ve got to help me. Tonight’s the night!”

I didn’t even look up. “Help you with what?”

“Portal research, obviously! I’m telling you, I can almost do it this time!” His voice carried that manic excitement that made me want to laugh and groan at the same time.

I pushed my notes aside. “Ormond… I don’t have time for whatever this is. Can’t it wait?”

“Please!” He practically begged, bouncing on his heels. “You’re smart, you’re strong, you just need to help me move these books to the basement. That’s all. I need your brains and brawn for this part!”

I sighed, grabbing a stack of books. “Fine. This better not be some ritual nonsense again.”

As we descended the narrow stairs into the basement, the air changed, stale, musty, and electric, all at once. Dust motes floated in the dim light, and the faint scent of old paper and wax filled my nose. The space looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. Candles circled a faded pentagram carved into the cement floor, runes etched along the edges.

I couldn’t help but glance at Ormond, studying him in the flickering candlelight. He had a kind of intensity that didn’t make sense in the real world, like he belonged somewhere else entirely. And maybe, I realized, he did.

“Scott! This is it! I can feel it!” he whispered, eyes wide. “I just need a little help, just hold these here, move that stack, and…”

I placed the books down near the edge of the pentagram, trying to keep my skepticism in check. One of the candles wobbled and tipped, spilling wax into a carved channel.

The wax flowed unnaturally fast, pooling into the runes. Then it ignited, not with a flame, but with a bright, angry red light that hummed like electricity. The air vibrated, low and menacing, and a static buzz filled the basement.

Ormond froze, staring at the wax channel. “Scott… what the hell did you do?”

“I… have no idea,” I said, my voice tight in my chest. Heat prickled up my arms as the floor beneath us seemed to tremble. Dust fell from the beams above, metal groaning like it had weight it shouldn’t carry.

And then, in a blinding flash, a white oval tore open in midair. The hum cut out, replaced by a rushing, pulling force that dragged us forward.

Colors, shapes, and impossible patterns whipped past, bending my senses in ways that made my stomach lurch. I tried to step back, but the pull was too strong.

And then… nothing.

I woke up in a hospital, my head groggy, like I’d just had a night on the town, then the town fell on me. The room was bright, all white walls and the faint smell of disinfectant mixed with something metallic. A dull ache pulsed behind my eyes.

A nurse walked by, middle-aged with short blonde hair pinned neatly behind her ears. Her uniform was crisp, her expression warm but professional.

“Oh, hello, good to see you’re awake. How do you feel?”

I spoke with a gravelly rasp, not on purpose, but like I hadn’t used my voice in days.

“I feel… like crap,” I groaned.

“Yes, I can imagine,” she chuckled, pulling a clipboard from under her arm. “You were found passed out in the middle of a golf course, quite a heavily armed one I might add. No one knows how you got in there, frankly.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? A golf course?”

She nodded. “Mhm.”

“And where is Ormond?” I asked.

Her brow furrowed. “Ormond? You were the only one found as far as I’m aware.”

A cold weight settled in my stomach. I swung my legs over the bed and stood. “I… need to leave.”

She didn’t stop me. Instead, she walked me to reception, her shoes clicking against the polished floor. I signed a discharge form, collected my possessions, and stepped outside.

The wind caught my hair, carrying with it the crisp scent of the city, clean in some places, faintly exhaust-heavy in others. I pulled out my phone and frowned. No signal. In the middle of the city. Odd.

I stopped a man in a grey coat and asked for directions to the college campus. He pointed toward a bus idling across the street. “That one’ll take you straight there.”

I climbed aboard, rummaging in my pocket for change. The driver didn’t look up when I paid. I sat near the back, watching the city drift by. On the way, I passed clusters of students, backpacks slung lazily over shoulders, laughing and talking in the late afternoon light. I kept my head down as usual.

When I reached campus, I was still wearing the same brown hair mess I’d woken up with, my shirt stained with streaks of green from the golf course grass. I trudged toward my dorm and opened the door.

The familiar sight of my bed should have been comforting, but it wasn’t my bed. The mattress felt wrong beneath me, firmer, with sheets that smelled faintly of detergent I’d never used. My brow furrowed. I stood, turning slowly to look. The blanket was blue, not grey. The desk had someone else’s books on it.

The door opened.

A tall guy with short black hair and a lean, wiry build stepped in, eyebrows shooting up.

“Yo, are you James’ friend?”

I blinked. “James? Who’s James?”

He stared at me like I was an idiot. “James is my roommate. If you don’t know him, what the hell are you doing here? Get out.” His tone was edged with irritation.

“Okay, sorry. Just got the rooms mixed up.” I slipped past him quickly and stepped into the hallway.

I scratched the back of my head. That was my room. What the hell was going on?

I walked to the door leading to the basement. It was locked, not with the flimsy old latch it used to have, but with a thick, heavy padlock. My frustration flared. I grabbed it and yanked. The metal gave way instantly, snapping like it was made of soft clay.

The door creaked open. The air that drifted out was cool, stale, and carried the scent of dust and old stone.

I descended the steps. The bulb overhead flickered once when I tugged the pull string, but the cord came away in my hand with a snap. The lights buzzed to life anyway, casting the basement in a sickly yellow glow.

And then I froze.

The pentagram was gone.

No runes, no candles, no books. Just empty, cracked cement and dust that looked like it had been undisturbed for years.

The air felt heavier, as though something was missing from it.

Where was the portal?

What happened?

I walked back upstairs, my head still spinning from the empty basement. The hallways felt… off. Same layout, same doors, but the little details were wrong. The colors of the walls were brighter than I remembered, the bulletin boards were full of posters for clubs I’d never heard of.

Pushing the unease down, I made my way to the dean’s office.

Reception was a neat, sunlit room that smelled faintly of lemon polish. A woman sat behind the counter, glasses perched halfway down her nose as she typed on a computer.

“I need to speak with the dean,” I told her, trying to keep my voice steady, “someone’s in my dorm and all my things are gone.”

Her brow rose with concern. “Oh my, that’s not good. She’s free if you want to just knock on her door.”

“Thank you,” I said, giving a quick nod before walking over to the office door.

It was ajar. I knocked softly and pushed it open.

“Come in,” a woman’s voice called from inside.

The door creaked as I stepped into the office. The dean sat behind a large oak desk, her hair pulled into a tight bun, reading glasses balanced perfectly on the bridge of her nose. The walls were lined with framed certificates and photos of smiling graduates.

“Uh, hi, miss,” I started awkwardly. “I’m Scott. I wanted to know what’s going on with my dorm room. Someone’s moved into it… did I get moved or something?”

She frowned slightly. “Hmm, that doesn’t sound right. Let me check.” Her fingers clacked over the keyboard with practiced speed. “What room was it?”

“Oh, um, room 32, miss. Wing B,” I replied.

Her head tilted. “Wing B?” she repeated, as if she’d never heard the term. “We have wings 1 to 4, not A to D.”

That didn’t make sense. My acceptance email and welcome package had both said Wing B.

“Sorry, I guess… wing 2 then?” I offered.

“Right… here we are,” she murmured, eyes scanning the screen. “That dorm is occupied by Mitchell and James. Has been for two months.”

My stomach tightened. “Two months?”

“Yes,” she said firmly. Then she looked up at me. “And… sorry, who are you by the way?”

A strange heat flushed through my face. “I’m Scott Sims.”

Her fingers danced across the keyboard again, then she hit Enter. The faint whir of the computer’s fan filled the silence.

“Hmmm,” she said at last. “You’re not in our system at all. Either you’re not enrolled in this college or our database is experiencing an error.”

I forced a thin smile. “Oh… okay. I’ll come back later.”

I made for the door quickly. The lobby air felt suddenly heavy, the world muted around me. When I stepped outside, I stopped on the top step, staring down at my shoes. My mind was blank, yet loud all at once, questions fighting for space.

That’s when I heard it.

“Psst.”

I turned my head to the right. A figure leaned out from behind the corner of the building.

It was Ormond.

His hair was messier than usual, his face pale, his eyes darting like a hunted animal.

I rushed over and grabbed his arm. “What is going on?” I demanded, my voice low but sharp.

He glanced around before speaking. “Not here. Too many ears. Follow me.”

We cut through the narrow alley beside the admin building, emerging onto a quieter back path lined with trees. Students passed by at a distance, none paying us any mind. Ormond didn’t stop until we were behind a maintenance shed.

“I’ve been looking for you for days,” he said. “Ever since the portal”

“Days? It’s been hours for me!” I shot back.

“Yeah, well, not here. Time works differently. This… isn’t our world, Scott.” His voice was tense, urgent. “It looks like it, but the details are wrong. The names, the places… even the sky’s a different shade if you look long enough.”

I rubbed my forehead. “Okay, slow down. First, why am I not in the college system? Why does my dorm belong to someone else?”

“Because you were never here,” he said simply. “Not in this version of it. You and I… we landed in a place that’s almost identical to home, but you don’t exist here.”

The words hit like cold water. “So what? We’re… in some alternate dimension?”

“Something like that. But we can’t stay in one place too long. If people start asking too many questions, we’re in trouble.”

“Trouble from who?”

He looked past me, eyes narrowing at something in the distance. “From them.”

I turned to follow his gaze. Two figures in dark uniforms stood at the far end of the path, still as statues, watching us. Their clothing looked halfway between military fatigues and ceremonial robes, and their faces were hidden behind smooth, featureless masks.

Ormond grabbed my sleeve. “We need to move. Now.”

We slipped between buildings, moving quickly toward the far end of campus. My mind raced with questions, but one thing was certain, whatever this place was, it wasn’t home, and we weren’t supposed to be here.