Breaking in

The atmosphere shifted abruptly, stopping Jacob in his tracks. The air had become thick and hot, yet it sent shivers down his spine, the hair on his skin standing on end and threatening to tear away from him. He felt a pair of eyes staring down on him maliciously, but he couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from, and everywhere he looked, there was nothing. As far as he could see, nothing in the world around him had changed. But he could feel it.

The fire exploded in front of him without warning, spreading along the ground with a crack and a boom like an invisible molotov landing at his feet. He leaped back in an instant, hands defensively by his head, eyes darting from side to side, desperately wishing he had some kind of weapon on him. At least then, he could feel like he could do something. As he was now, he was helpless to defend himself.

A figure stepped through the raging flames on the ground, a massive sword in his hand, dragging along the ground. As the blazes moved aside to permit him through, and the details become clear, it was the sword that drew Jacob's eye first. The blade itself was red hot from the flames, but its vivd blue inscription shone like it was from not just something else, but somewhere else entirely. It was blocky and broken, like trying to read data off of a broken computer monitor.

Looking at the face revealed that his sword was not the only thing with such a strange appearance. The skin on the left half of his face had been brutally torn away, bloody and fleshy remains revealing not muscle or bone, but more of the burning red metal, with eyes and teeth of that same, disturbing, out of place blue. He grinned wickedly at Jacob and flicked his sword through the air a single time, blowing away the flames on the ground. But his sword continued to burn.

"Who are you?" Jacob asked, the terror clear in his voice. The man said nothing, only continuing to grin as he raised his hand into the air and let it, too, burst into flames. None of this could have been real. This was not some fantasy world, Jacob thought. This was the real world. Things like this couldn't happen.

He had to be dreaming. It was the only explanation. Perhaps with a fever, too explain the hot and cold feelings. But the man's glare sent shivers down his back too cold not to be real.

"Why are you doing this?"

The man's arm snapped forward, like a major league baseball pitcher throwing a fast ball, and an orb of flames shot through the air like a bullet, directly at Jacob's chest. He didn't have the time to dodge out of the way. It hit him with full force, dissipating in an instant, but the burn in his chest and the hole in his shirt were agonizing, dropping him to his knees.

He could barely look up to see the man approaching, still grinning cockily, his head twitching slightly as if he were mad in the head, or perhaps not quite functioning correctly. He opened his mouth, and the words broke free like they had been trapped behind his disturbing teeth, loud and sharp. "You can not continue, Jacob," the man said, his lips not moving other than to be open. "And so you will not."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

But his words fell on deaf ears.