Corvan's feet slapped against the wet, uneven cobblestone streets of the town. His breath came in ragged bursts, sweat slick on his brow despite the cold. He didn't look back. He couldn't.
He'd left his phone in the hotel. It was too risky to carry it. He'd read somewhere the thing could track signals. His shoes weren't made for running. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered now.
He'd been told about it, of course. A thing that hunted liars. He hadn't believed it at first, chalking it up to local folklore. But he was learning quickly. After he'd told the first lie, it found him. It had been slow at first. At the office, a soft murmur when no one was around. A flicker in the corner of his eye. The faintest whisper that could've been wind, or someone's voice in the distance.
That was when the blood came.
A cut on his hand that hadn't been there before. Then, another. More. And finally, it spoke.
"I know."
It was the voice that made his stomach tighten, a crack in the air that bled cold and sharp. A truth no one should hear.
"I know every word you've said."
The creature had no face. No shape. It could be anywhere. It didn't need eyes, it didn't need a mouth. Just a voice.
Now, in the cold night air, with no one around to witness, Corvan knew that it was close. His breath slowed, forced himself not to choke on the air. His lies were done. They would have to stop. All of it—everything.
He ducked into an alley, eyes scanning the shadows. Silence pressed in, thick and suffocating. His pulse drummed in his ears, deafening him. Something moved. His feet froze to the ground.
There was no sound, just the tick of time slipping from him. It had come.
It came like a storm, like something terrible breaking through from beneath the earth. It came without warning.
The voice rasped from the walls, scraping at his soul. "You lied. You lied about everything. You can't run."
Corvan dropped to his knees. He didn't know what to say. The cold seared through his chest as he gasped, trying to force air into his lungs. His body shook, muscles locked tight, his heart thudding violently against his ribcage.
A chill crawled over his skin, something sharp and wet. He wasn't alone. Not anymore. It was here. It had always been here.
His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, a lie crawling on the tip of it. He tried to speak, to tell it something, but the words turned to bile. He could hear it, breathing behind him.
Slowly, he turned.
Nothing. The alley was empty. But then—there it was. Not in front of him. Not behind him. Not beside him. It was inside him.
He felt his skin tear open, like someone was ripping him apart from the inside out. His hands gripped his chest as he fell to the ground, desperate to claw the thing out. Blood soaked his clothes, staining the stone, but it wouldn't stop. He couldn't scream, couldn't even breathe.
The last lie he told, the one that started it all, broke apart in his mind. The truth, pure and bitter, bled out through every pore. His body twisted with every lie he'd ever told.
The silence afterward wasn't comforting. There was no peace.
The last breath he took didn't belong to him.