Ozion moved through the rain-slick streets, his steps silent against the pavement. The whisper from before still curled around his thoughts, a lingering presence that refused to fade.
The night had deepened, stretching shadows across the empty town. Even the streetlights seemed dimmer than before, their glow swallowed by the encroaching dark.
Then—footsteps.
Soft. Measured. Echoing behind him.
Ozion didn't turn. He didn't need to. Whoever—or whatever—was following him wasn't trying to hide. It wanted him to know.
His fingers twitched at his sides, his mind sharpening. The weight of the air shifted, thick with an unseen presence.
"You've been watching me for a while now," he said, voice low.
Silence. Then, a chuckle—soft, rasping, just beyond sight.
"Not watching," the voice murmured. "Waiting."
Ozion finally turned, his gaze settling on the figure standing at the mouth of the alley. A man—or at least something shaped like one. Cloaked in darkness, his face obscured, but his presence undeniable.
Something unnatural lurked beneath that shape.
Ozion smirked, though his fingers curled slightly. "That so?"
The figure tilted its head. "You don't fear me."
"Should I?"
A pause. Then, the shadows seemed to shift, stretching unnaturally. The whisper curled tighter around Ozion's mind.
"We'll see."
Then, just as suddenly as it came, the presence was gone. The street was empty again. Only the sound of the rain remained.
Ozion exhaled slowly.
This was just the beginning.