End of the World Influencer [PT 4]: A Dark Fiction Series
A trip through the void, soul-devouring space spiders, and a man too pretty to trust.
Thank you for being here.
Knowing there are others out there in the void makes all the difference. Every comment, share, and message of support has brought more warmth to the cold little space where my soul used to be than I ever expected. Your presence is felt. And it matters more than you know.
Now back to our regularly scheduled programming…
The world ended quietly.
No explosions. No warnings. Just a low hum, a flicker of power, and then—silence.
In Part One, the global grid collapsed.
In Part Two, strange messages slipped through Adams live-stream, and he started to question what was real—and what was watching him inside the closet.
In Part Three, trust fractured further when Adam met Thalia—a cosmic being space witch with her own agenda. Alongside Alex, Adam and Thalia step into the void, leaving their Earth behind in search of what they will come to know as Earth-999.
What they find waiting for them on this dark journey…is less than comforting.
Catch Up On The Story So Far
Soundtrack your descent into the cosmic void with a playlist built for soul-devouring space spiders, witchcraft, apocalyptic gay panic, and the worst possible meet-cute. From glitchy whispers to full-blown breakdowns, these songs capture every unhinged second of End of the World Influencer: Part Four. Screaming, running, stabbing, flirting—sometimes all at once.
Where Part 3 Ended
Still, we follow the mystery woman into the night.
Above us, the stars shift slightly—like something just turned its attention our way.
Devoratus Animarum
Thalia doesn’t say a word—just walks deeper into the alley until she stops at a wall.
“Is this the part where you wave your hand and a door appears out of nowhere?” I ask.
Alex snorts. Quiet, but earned.
Thalia turns on her heel, eyes already mid-roll. “I admire your species’ commitment to humor in the face of annihilation. Truly. But now isn’t the time to rehearse your stand-up.”
Ouch.
“Oof. Space witch doesn’t like jokes. Got it.”
The tension spikes—sharp, awkward, thick enough to get catcalled—and then: She waves her hand.
Called it.
A door shimmers into view.
…an elevator door. The kind you'd find in a corporate office—if corporate offices exist in the Void.
She shoots me a glare that’s almost hostile. Almost. Her lips twitch, not quite a smirk, but close enough to make something in my brain stutter. Like I’ve seen that look before.
Alex clocks it too. Her eyes flick between us, calculating.
“Alright, when you two are done eye-fucking each other,” she says, deadpan. Then, to Thalia—softer now, almost imperceptible—“You mind telling us where the hell that goes?”
Alex always says, “I’m not a girls-girl”—and honestly, maybe she’s right. She’s not gonna cosign bullshit just because it’s pretty.
But watch her long enough, and the truth shows up in the details.
The way she reads women. Assesses what they need—gentle, firm, empathetic. Whether they need advice or just an ear.
The drinks she used to quietly swap when some guy thought he was being slick. The Ubers she ordered for strangers without ever saying their names.
And the scar on her nose from when some jackass called Taylor “Tyler,” a name she hadn’t gone by in years—Alex threw the first punch.
She’s not a girls-girl, loyal to some polished-up idea of womanhood. She’s the kind of woman other women feel safe around—no matter their origin story.
And I think that’s way cooler.
As Thalia reaches for the door, my hand darts out and grabs her arm—gently. “Care to tell us where the hell you’re taking us, or…?”
She sighs. The kind of sigh that sounds like it’s been carrying the weight of human curiosity for several thousand years. Then she turns, and that weird déjà vu hits my chest like a freight train. Something about her…
“All you need to know is that it will be dark,” she says, “and full of Devoratus Animarum—the little devils.”
I freeze just before the elevator doors. “I’m sorry, did you just curse me? What the fuck is… Dev-or-at-us Animation or whatever?”
“Devourer of souls,” Alex says, deadpan.
Oh, awesome. That’s even better.
Thalia, who allegedly hates jokes, meets my eyes with the faintest trace of a smirk. “Space spiders.”
Nice callback. I’d give her props if she hadn’t just combined two of the scariest words in the universe.
But Alex catches it before I do. “Did you just say space spiders? Nah. I don’t do spiders.”
Maybe Bo Burnham was onto something—everyone’s a feminist until someone says spider.
“Come on, Lex. They’re space spiders. That’s gotta be a witchy exception, right? Like in Harry Potter.”
I say it without thinking. Then immediately remember we put JK Rowling on the no-reference list. “I’m sorry. There aren’t a lot of media options to pull from these days.”
“These spiders are harmless. To space witches, at least. I’ve never brought mortals through the void before.” Thalia shrugs. “Alas, first time for everything. Just… don’t be scared.”
“Let me guess—they smell fear.” I try to sound sarcastic. I only halfway pull it off.
“Of course not. That would be incredibly cliché.”
A beat.
“They’re attracted to it. Like a magnet. And the stronger it is, the better the soul. Once they find you, you’ll be tortured for thousands of years—scared within an inch of your life every second, until you’re full of fear and flavor.”
Oh. Goodie.
“Just stay calm,” she adds. “And don’t touch anything. It’s a little sticky.”
My eyes widen—I don’t even bother trying to hide it. “That’s super helpful. Hey, Thalia, has anyone ever told you you’d make a great tour guide? If they have, they were lying.”
“Pft.” It’s half-sigh, half-chuckle. I’m counting it as a win.
“The void is how most beings travel between galaxies,” she says. “Think of it like an interstate. It’s mostly safe… if you follow the rules.”
Without looking back, she steps through.
And we follow.
Because apparently, between the end of the world and space spiders, we picked space spiders.
And I’m not quite sure that was the right move.
The second I step through, the world vanishes.
Not fades. Not transitions. Just—gone.
No floor beneath my feet, but I’m not falling. No sky, but light still flickers in the distance like dying stars. The space around me bends and shifts like water, but it’s dry. Sound feels thick, like it’s being swallowed before it leaves my mouth.
I reach for Alex. Her hand finds mine instantly. Thalia’s already ahead, walking like she’s done this a thousand times—which she probably has.
I can’t tell if we’re walking or floating. Time feels… stretched. Slowed. I check my watch. It’s ticking backwards.
Awesome.
Thalia speaks without turning. “We’re getting close. You’ll feel it before you see it.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
The void seems to shift in silent reply. The deeper we go, the less it feels like moving through space and more like moving through thought. It pulses. It breathes. And I swear I just saw something blink in the distance.
Thalia suddenly stops.
“Stay near,” she says. “It’s thin here.”
“What’s thin?” I ask.
“The veil,” Alex murmurs.
There’s no sound, not really—but suddenly I feel something. A vibration. Not in the air. In my teeth. A low, thrumming presence crawling under my skin like static.
That’s when I see it.
Or rather, don’t.
There’s a space ahead that isn’t dark, but wrong. Like something is blocking the void itself, a silhouette with too many angles and not enough light. Something moves inside it—slow, deliberate, like it's waiting.
“Don’t look directly at it,” Thalia warns.
So of course, I do.
I see the leg first. Thin. Longer than any limb has a right to be, jointed twice, ending in a hooked claw that clicks against the nothing beneath it.
Another follows.
And another.
Space spider.
It’s coming this way.
And I am scared out of my goddamn mind.
I've tucked an image of a monstrously fake (but damn scary) spider into the footnotes. If you're cool with space spiders1, check it out there. For those of you with arachnid anxiety, feel free to scroll by safely.
Then I hear it.
Click.
Click.
Clickclickclickclick.
My chest tightens.
Emerging from the folds of non-space. Legs like bone and matted hair. Human hair. A mouth that’s not a mouth, just spirals of teeth and heat.
Devoratus Animarum.
“Don’t run,” Thalia warns. “It’ll chase what flees.”
Naturally, I take a step back. It hisses—a sound that vibrates inside my skull.
Yup, that’ll do it. I’m officially crashing the fuck out.
Alex is already in front of me, blade drawn. Wait, when the hell did she start carrying a blade?
I look at her, she looks back with her eyebrow quirked to say: Why aren’t you also carrying a blade through the cosmic void full of space spiders, nerd (affectionate)?
Thalia raises a hand and speaks something I can’t understand, her voice splitting like static over a speaker that’s dying. A ripple of power cracks across the void—but it only stalls the creature. It wants me.
And then something inside me cracks open.
I don’t do anything (except maybe piss my pants, I’m not ashamed, have you seen that thing?) but the air around me bends. The creature jerks back, untouched, its limbs twitching.
“What the fuck,” I breathe.
“Run!” Thalia roars.
“RUN, DONT RUN, WHAT ARE WE DOING, THALIA??”
Alex tackles me from the side, sending us somersaulting forward—blind, half-floating—and flat on our faces in the dirt.
We land hard. Grass. Gravity. Air.
No spiders.
If I were less of a man, I’d probably be insecure about it, but I teared up, not gonna lie.
Then, footsteps.
A man approaches. Dressed like a prince, calm as a ghost, smile like a knife. He doesn’t fit the surroundings and its very obviously noticeable.
“Well,” he says smoothly, “that was dramatic.”
Thalia’s expression softens. Alex’s hardens because, well, men (cue ominous music).
Even alien ones that look like someone Taylor Swift wrote a song about.
I can’t blame the way his eyes rake over Alex, she’s a dime… and mine are doing the same to him.
“Hey, Casanova, quick question,” I grab his attention and peel his eyes off of Alex for a moment. “What’s it like being one of Gods favorites? I mean,” I gesture at him broadly from head to toe.
That smile widens, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“I wouldn’t know,” he replies. “God and I haven’t spoken in some time.”
Cool. Cryptic. Totally normal thing to say.
“I’m Elliot,” he adds, offering a hand like this is a fucking dinner party.
I don’t take it. Not yet.
Instead: “So… are you the welcome committee? Or the final boss?”
A flicker of something passes through his expression. Not annoyance. Not amusement. Just… interest. Like I’ve done something unexpected.
He turns that gaze on Thalia. “He’s clever.”
She says nothing.
Elliot steps forward—just one pace too close—and finally looks at me. Really looks. Like he’s peeling me apart without blinking.
“Tell me, Adam,” he says, voice silky smooth and warm, like honey dripping from his lips.
Is this the gay agenda? Feeling seen? Feeling valued for just being yourself? If so, I don’t understand what there is to hate here.
But I also can’t say I appreciate the poor timing of questioning my sexual spectrum mid-apocalypse.
I’ll save it for my therapist.
“When the void cracked and you bent it back—what did you feel?”
I freeze.
“I—what?”
“You bent it. Just a little. Like it wanted to listen. That’s not nothing.”
My throat is dry. “I didn’t do anything. I was just scared.”
“Yes,” he says, softly. “You were. But fear is useful. It makes us move. But sometimes, it makes us aware.”
He lifts a hand—not threatening, just a light gesture—and I flinch. He smiles, like that was part of the experiment.
Alex is already on ten, and it’s just as hot in space as it is back at home. “Ever heard of personal space, weirdo?”
My eyes dart to Thalia with a pleading expression that can only be described as:
Get your friend. Alex has depression, and not a lot left to live for. I don’t like his odds.
Thalia’s brow furrow read to me like:
Wait.
I turned back, replying with a scoff to say:
Your friends funeral.
His smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it sharpens.
“I’m just saying hello,” he says. Then he turns to me.
“Don’t worry, Adam. You’ll remember who you are soon enough.”
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You can find Part 5 here.
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Comments, theories, and unhinged reactions are always welcome below.
Well, that is kinda terrifying I’ll be honest with you. It a fan of spiders, especially not ones that want my soul and fear. But the interest keeps building because I wanna know what he doesn’t remember!!