The following days felt like a dream, or maybe a nightmare—whichever one you couldn't wake up from. The experience in the alley had left a mark deeper than any physical wound, something I couldn't shake no matter how hard I tried. The world around me seemed to shift, like I was seeing everything through a thin, distorted veil. My routine continued as usual—wake up, work, go home—but the whispers had become something more now. They weren't just murmurs in the back of my mind; they were pulling me toward something I didn't yet understand.
Every time I passed that alley, I felt the same tugging sensation, a magnetic pull that made my heart race and my skin prickle. But the figure hadn't returned, and neither had the light. It was as if I'd been given just a glimpse of something massive, a riddle that had no solution, at least not yet.
The city felt different now. I couldn't explain it, but things seemed... off. Faces in the crowd that had once been familiar now looked strange, distant. The people I worked with—people I'd seen every day for years—felt like strangers. There was a hollowness to their eyes, a mechanical quality to their movements. I wondered if it had always been this way, and I'd just never noticed, or if the change had happened overnight. Either way, I couldn't stop thinking about the figure in the void, its ominous words replaying in my mind on an endless loop.
The fractures. The cycle. The end.
But I had no idea what any of it meant.
One night, nearly a week after the incident in the alley, I found myself wandering the streets again, unable to sleep. The city was quiet, unusually so. Even the usual hum of distant traffic seemed muffled, like the world was holding its breath. The air felt heavy, thick with an unspoken tension. I kept my hands in my pockets, my mind racing as I replayed everything that had happened over and over again.
I turned down a narrow street, one I didn't recognize, though I'd walked these streets a thousand times. It was lined with old, crumbling buildings, their windows dark and empty. The streetlights flickered faintly, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch out toward me, like grasping hands.
Suddenly, I heard something—a faint, familiar whisper.
My heart jumped in my chest, and I froze, listening. At first, it was just a low hum, barely audible over the sound of the wind. But then, slowly, it grew louder, more distinct.
"The cycle must be broken..."
I turned my head, my eyes scanning the empty street, but there was no one there. The voice seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. It wrapped around me like a cold breeze, sending shivers down my spine.
"You are not alone."
This time, the voice was clearer, sharper. It wasn't just a whisper—it was a command.
My pulse quickened as I felt the pull again, stronger this time. Without thinking, I began walking toward it, my feet moving on their own, as if something was guiding me. The voice continued, soft but insistent, leading me deeper into the darkness. The further I went, the more the world around me seemed to change. The shadows grew longer, darker, until it felt like the street was closing in on me, suffocating me with its weight.
I reached an old, rusted gate at the end of the street. It was covered in vines, the metal twisted and broken in places. Beyond it, I could just make out the silhouette of a large, decaying building—an abandoned mansion, or maybe a forgotten temple. The whispers were louder now, practically screaming in my ears, urging me forward.
"Enter..."
The gate creaked as I pushed it open, the sound echoing through the empty street like a gunshot. I hesitated for a moment, my mind racing. Every instinct told me to turn back, to leave this place behind and never return. But something inside me, something deeper than fear, pushed me forward.
The building loomed before me, its walls cracked and crumbling. The air around it felt colder, sharper, as if the very essence of the place was draining the warmth from my body. I stepped inside, my footsteps echoing in the vast, empty hall. The floor was covered in dust and debris, broken pieces of furniture scattered around like the remnants of a forgotten time.
The whispers had stopped.
For a moment, everything was silent. The only sound was my own breathing, harsh and ragged in the stillness. I walked further into the hall, my eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement. But there was nothing—just darkness.
Then, I saw it.
At the far end of the hall, a faint, glowing symbol was etched into the floor. It pulsed with a soft, eerie light, casting strange shadows on the walls around it. The symbol was intricate, made up of twisting lines and geometric shapes that seemed to shift and change as I looked at them. It felt ancient, powerful, like it had been there for centuries, waiting for someone to find it.
I knelt down beside it, my hand hovering over the glowing lines. There was a strange energy radiating from it, a deep, pulsing force that made my skin tingle and my heart race. I had no idea what it was or what it meant, but I knew—somehow—that it was connected to everything. To the fractures. To the whispers. To the figure in the void.
As I reached out to touch it, the symbol flared brightly, blinding me for a moment. I stumbled back, my vision swimming. When my eyes cleared, the hall had changed.
The walls were no longer cracked and broken—they were smooth, polished, reflecting the glow of the symbol. The air was no longer cold; it was warm, alive with a strange, humming energy. And standing in the center of the hall, where the symbol had been, was a figure.
The same figure from the void.
"You've come," it said, its voice the same low, rumbling growl that had haunted my dreams. "The time is near."
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out. My throat felt dry, tight, as if the very air around me had thickened.
"The fractures are growing," the figure continued, stepping closer. "The world is breaking, and only you can stop it."
"I don't understand," I managed to choke out, my voice barely above a whisper.
"You will," the figure said, its eyes glowing with that same unnatural light. "The cycle is ending, and you are the key."
I shook my head, backing away. "Why me? I'm no one. I can't—"
"You've been chosen," the figure interrupted, its voice firm, unyielding. "You've always been chosen. You just didn't know it yet."
I felt a cold shiver run down my spine as the figure's words sank in. Chosen. I had always felt different, like something was missing, but I had never understood why. Now, it was starting to make sense. The whispers, the fractures, the feeling that something was coming—it was all connected. And I was a part of it.
The figure stepped closer, its hand outstretched. "The time has come. Will you accept your fate, or will you let the world crumble?"
I stared at the figure, my heart pounding in my chest. The weight of the choice hung heavy over me, suffocating me. But in that moment, I knew—I couldn't turn back. Not now. Not after everything.
Slowly, I reached out and took the figure's hand.
And the world exploded into light.