After the unfortunate incident with the game, Finkle Bijaka left his body tucked safely away in a box at the back of a wardrobe and floated up into the higher dimensions. The putrid stench he’d been chasing had dulled to a manageable level, allowing him to focus as he moved along the astral plane, but still be able to track it. It wouldn’t be faint for long. At any moment, it could hit him with full force, but for now, he relished the rare peace.

 

It took a moment to adjust to the smooth, weightless glide of the plane. Streams of pale blue light twisted and curled through the vast expanse ahead, their soft glow spilling into the surrounding darkness before fading into the distance. Finkle rode the brightest of the streams. Its edges flickered with a reddish-brown hue that cast a warm, metallic shimmer into the darkness. More than just a colour, the copper glow marked the stream’s origin in Physical. It matched the hue of his astral aura, which radiated warmly, scattering copper embers through the streaks of blue.

 

As he settled into the strange, intoxicating experience, Finkle found his rhythm. The stream eagerly responded to his thoughts, shifting and twisting as he willed it, carrying him effortlessly. The sensation was the perfect mix of soothing and fun—like being gently cradled while riding a wave that never veered off course or crashed. Although this journey wasn’t for the fun of it, a pang of anticipation stirred inside him. It had been a while since he'd astral travelled out of Physical, and he couldn't help but feel excited. It was the only time he got to be a person, a form that felt natural and right, the perfect fit. The awkward adjustment when he returned to his sleeping body was unavoidable, but it was always worth it.

 

Feeling anchored yet free and travelling at a steady pace, he settled in for the long haul—though, technically, it wasn’t that long. Time on the astral plane behaved in peculiar ways, splintering in strange directions and speeding up. Whole lifetimes could play out in a short nap, while, in the waking world, barely a moment would pass. As the stream carried him onward, Finkle relaxed into the silky experience of travelling while napping. It was good to be out of Physical for a while.

 

The stream carried him into The Hollow. The mother of all highways, it was a sprawling network of passages connecting the dimensions of Existence and their infinite realms, linking them together while also keeping them apart. His journey began in the central passage, a vast expanse with an outer crust that shimmered with a copper sheen, indicating the Physical sector. The Hollow mostly lived up to its name as being an empty space, but it wasn’t completely lifeless. Countless ultraviolet particles drifted inward from the crust. Out there, they shone in abundance, but where Finkle travelled in the middle, they provided little light to see by. Nevertheless, their energy was a pleasant contrast to the awful stench.

 

Since entering REM sleep, the foul smell had remained distant. If only it had done the same while awake, maybe he wouldn’t have had to take this trip. He still couldn’t believe such a stench existed. When it had first arrived in the mail, he assumed something had spoiled or decayed in transit, but there was nothing dead or alive inside the package. It had appeared to be gaming equipment and yet, his senses had still kicked into overdrive. 

 

Right from the start, it had been unbearably potent, and he hadn’t been able to escape it. It seemed to have attached to him. The only saving grace was that it didn’t stay unbearable for long. It came in waves. One moment, the air was clear; the next, the foul odour crashed over him, thick and suffocating. He could do nothing but endure it until it passed—only for the cycle to begin again. It was both exasperating and baffling.

 

Right at that moment, as if mocking him, the stench flared back to life, sharp and acrid, striking with unbearable force. It wasn’t just foul—it carried something deeper, something wrong. A dark, foreboding presence clung to it, unmistakably unnatural. Then, just as suddenly as it appeared, the stench vanished again. Where had it gone and what in the realms was causing it? As much as he longed never to smell it again, he decided that there was only one way to escape it: he had to find it source and destroy it.

 

Sniff. Sniff, sniff. His nostrils flared as he strained to catch a hint of its trail which was when he noticed a dirty smear along one edge of the pale blue astral stream he rode. When he looked directly at it, the smear vanished. It wasn’t real—at least, not in the way other things were. His half-dreaming mind had likely conjured it, a way to give form to the stench. He had to admit, it was helpful.

 

Finkle considered whether to morph into a form good for tracking scents. A mole came to mind, great for navigating the hollow: small, with a superb sense of smell, perfect for tunnels, and adept at detecting changes in the environment. But moles lacked elegance and grace and he didn’t want to stop being a person just yet. Besides, he’d put a lot of thought into what he looked like for this trip, crafting a strong, expressive face that was impossible to ignore. As for his body, that was an afterthought. Torso, limbs, hands, and feet only needed to be functional enough to get him from one place to another. Most of the time, his body just drifted behind him, a vague blur at best.

 

What really mattered was presence, and he had imagined features that were assertive, commanding, and righteous. Spiralling holes for ears, attuned to subtle frequencies. A nose with wide, responsive nostrils to take in every nuance of the plane. Full lips and a mouth flexible enough to express exactly how he felt and make it unmistakably clear when he was speaking up. The eyes he envisioned were his masterpiece—large, green, and oval, bulbs of luminescence with a glint he could control at will. Thick, bushy brows framed them, leaving no doubt about his mood. The bald, striking head he conceived was a striking shape that he found undeniably beautiful.

 

At least, that was the plan. There was no way of telling what he actually looked like until he found a reflective surface. The irony wasn’t lost on him that he was invisible and there was no one to admire his creation. It didn’t really matter though. He liked what he’d crafted and it was a small win against the stench. Tracking down the source of that foulness and putting an end to it would be a feat worthy of legend—not to mention a well-earned relief for his weary nose.

 

But first he had to get out of his home realm. Perched on the border of Physical and Semiphysical, Oridian signified a time of adjustment, bombarding him with every conceivable distraction—textures, smells, sounds, and lights—a sensory overload that relentlessly tested his focus and patience. That was the nature of Physical—there was always something to feel. Most of it was pleasantly distracting, but with the smell tainting his experience, staying on course became a monumental challenge.

 

To avoid unpleasant sensations, he stayed in the middle of The Hollow, where the atmosphere was warm and dry. He glided along for a while, enjoying the relative ease, until the smell crept back, seeping into his senses just as the smear reappeared in his vision. It twisted the stream beneath him, pulling it off course and steering him into a narrower passage. The sides closed in, forming a dense, impenetrable cushion, damp and slimy to the touch. It was like sliding over a mossy wall—an uncomfortable sensation that made it even harder to focus. Clammy and constricting, the passage demanded constant vigilance to avoid brushing against the sides. He nearly made it through unscathed, but the exit narrowed even further. Squeezing through, he was left with an awful dampness clinging to his astral skin, his face pressed so close that both cheeks slid over the slick surface.

 

‘Ugh! Why do bad things always happen at the worst possible moments?!’ he grumbled, aiming the rhetorical complaint at whatever knucklehead or prankster held the reins of fate. He wiped the slimy residue away, even though there was nothing really there to clean off. Astral travel had its quirks: nothing was ever truly real.

 

The exit catapulted Finkle back into a wider passage. He and tumbled to the centre in relief until another wave of stink came. What in the realms could conjure such a stink!? Each effortless stride only heightened his frustration. Settling into a steady rhythm, Finkle felt the shift into Semiphysical long before he saw it. The atmosphere turned lighter, more fluid, and then there it was: an iridescent forcefield rippling like oil on water, its golden glow spilling softly into The Hollow.

 

‘Ah, the crossing of underwhelm,’ he muttered with mock drama. The first time he’d encountered it, the crossing had seemed mysterious, even awe-inspiring. But he wasn’t fooled by its pretty shimmer any more. For a border between dimensions, it was astonishingly dull. No riddles to solve, no elaborate locks to crack—just an underwhelming shimmer standing between him and whatever came next.

 

He briefly considered searching for a more exciting route, but if it existed, he hadn’t found it yet. Then again, he’d never seen anyone else in The Hollow, which made him wonder—again—if he was the only one capable of crossing dimensions. Maybe he was gifted. Probably, he decided. He quickly reminded himself that this wasn’t the time for wandering off. He was here to track down the source of the smell. Without fanfare or theatrics, Finkle glided through the unremarkable forcefield and into the dimension of Semiphysical.

 

The Semiphysical sector of The Hollow had a golden glow. It felt slippery, like gliding through thick, invisible fluid. It didn’t have off-putting damp, mossy textures, but it still took a moment to adjust. Tiny ultraviolet particles floated around him, much like those in the Physical sector, but here they were softer, barely visible, and far less intrusive. Finkle had long since learned that traveling the plane didn’t mean being disconnected from a place—if anything, it was the opposite. Without a solid form to shield him, every sensation felt amplified and each connection more personal. He still felt everything, though. Semiphysical could be a comforting dimension when you most needed it. In Meldge, it was easy to dissolve into the environment, becoming one with it, like water blending seamlessly into more water. Everything felt interconnected, part of a single entity, yet somehow still distinct, expressing itself separately, as he did now. And yet, there was a distinct separation between him and the place. That meant safety—no one and nothing could touch him. It was both comforting and lonely. On the bright side, his instincts were sharper on the plane, making navigation much easier. A map wouldn’t hurt, though.

 

The atmosphere of the higher dimension held a wistful quality. His ears were attuned to subtle frequencies and easily detected a soft, distant melody drifting through the air. Finkle wasn’t sure whether the dreamy state was the nature of the dimension or a side effect of astral travelling during a catnap. He didn’t dwell on it long; pondering such mysteries felt like a waste of time. After all, no one he knew could navigate the plane, whether fully awake or lightly dozing. It made him feel undeniably special—and just a touch lonely.

 

Zigzagging through the tangled passageways, Finkle followed his nose through every twist and turn. Suction pockets were dodged, and passages were navigated with the grace of a cosmic acrobat, or at least that’s how Finkle fancied he looked to others, if there were anyone around to admire his skills and talents. There wasn’t. He was barely there himself. Still, it was gearing up to be quite the adventure.

 

Sniff. Sniff, sniff. The stench steered him to one of the countless portholes scattered across The Hollow’s crust. Soft ultraviolet particles gathered around its edges, thickening into a luminous haze beyond. He took a deep breath, bracing for more foulness but instead, a faint floral scent curled into his senses, stirring his excitement. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready to find out. With a surge of anticipation, he dashed through the hole, into the Semiphysical realm of Meldge.