When I opened my eyes, the world wasn’t the same.
The neon lights I once knew were gone. Streets that used to buzz with cars and screens were now silent, lit only by torches and candles. People walked in robes, carrying charms and talismans, whispering prayers as if the shadows were listening.
I thought I was dreaming—until I tried to pull out my phone.
Gasps filled the air. A woman screamed, dropping to her knees. “Evil!” she cried. “The cursed black mirror!”
Within seconds, a crowd formed around me. Their eyes were wide with fear, their hands clutching stones and wooden crosses. To them, my phone wasn’t a tool. It was a weapon of the devil.
A man stepped forward, his voice trembling but loud enough to lead them. “Technology is forbidden! It brings ruin, sickness, and death. Burn it—burn him!”
I froze. Just yesterday, I lived in a world where machines made life easier. But now, I was in a place where superstition ruled, where knowledge was fear, and where people believed that wires and screens carried demons.
They dragged me toward the village square, chanting curses. My phone was snatched from my hand and thrown into a fire. I watched helplessly as the flames devoured the last connection I had to my old life.
In that moment, I realized: this wasn’t just another world. This was the Dark Age—reborn. And I was its enemy.
