Malik's words still echoed in her mind, his mockery turning to dark laughter that reverberated in the shattered corners of her consciousness. He's a manipulator, his games carefully orchestrated, but tonight his tone carried a new edge—excitement. Dangerous excitement. The kind that made the air in the alley feel heavier, the shadows deeper, and the unseen threads of the world hum with tension. The alley itself seemed alive, colder, and sharper than before. Its cracked brick walls. Her scream tore through the air, shattering the eerie stillness. Raw power unfurled from her like a tempest, rippling outward in violent waves. The windows above rattled in their frames, and litter scuttled across the ground like insects fleeing a predator. The city seemed to respond to her, its air growing heavy with unspoken dread. The man with the swords, unfazed by the chaos, calmly scratched the inside of his ear with his pinky. His tattoos shimmered crimson in response to the energy, their sharp, intricate patterns twisting like constellations inked onto flesh. They glowed faintly, resonating with something primal and unspoken. Malik glanced at him; his smirk unwavering. His fingers twitched—a betrayal of his excitement."Whew," Malik muttered, trying to sound amused but failing to mask his eagerness. "Got goosebumps there. Jin, mind going back and grabbing that nuisance?" His voice dripped with condescension. Jin, the swordsman, gave a shallow bow, his expression that of a man who hated taking orders, and disappeared into the darkness without a word.The nuisance? Her thoughts raced. What is he planning? Another victim?She hovered above, cloaked in invisibility, a chill crawling up her spine. It wasn't just Malik's scheming that unnerved her—it was the sensation of being watched. The feeling was ancient, primal, as though something immense and formless had turned its attention to her.Henry's voice echoed in her memory. He'd often talked about spirits and the whispers of forgotten deities. One night, as they watched a ghost movie, he quipped, "Would you haunt someone, Melody?""No," she had replied with a laugh. "Why would I waste my time worrying about something after I'm gone?"Henry had smiled, his gaze distant. "I don't know. I'd haunt someone forever if they ever did something to you."But this wasn't a haunting. What she was doing—what was happening to her—went far beyond any ghost story Henry could tell. This wasn't an echo of the dead but something alive. Whispers were growing louder, more insistent, as if they were unraveling along with her.Below, Malik exchanged words with the skull-masked man. Their voices danced in a dangerous cadence, their banter laced with threats and jokes. Malik referred to him as "Reaper." Melody drifted closer; her incorporeal form drawn toward the man like a moth to flame. When she brushed against him, the impact jolted her. The shockwave rolled through them both, but Reaper didn't flinch.His tattoos responded, flaring with ruby light. The intricate designs pulsed like a heartbeat, their patterns whispering secrets in a language no human could ever hope to understand. Melody could feel the energy radiating from him."Malik," Reaper growled, his voice low and hollow, like the echo of a distant storm.Malik's smile twisted into something darker, a grim mockery of itself. "I know," he murmured. "It was only a matter of time."The Reaper stepped forward, raising his hand as though he could command the air. "Do not act," Malik ordered sharply. His voice carried an otherworldly resonance, as though he was commanding everything seen and unseen in the alley."You don't understand what's happening, do you?" Reaper asked, his hollow gaze fixed on Malik with unsettling intensity."I understand more than you think. This isn't normal. This is something bigger." Malik's tone hinted at a deeper knowledge and will not allow defiance.Reaper tilted his head, appraising Malik with what felt like ancient eyes. "You've brought it too close. The Veil is tearing—"Before he could finish, Malik's face contorted. His twisted grin was a blend of murderous intent and glee, his expression a grotesque mask of revelation. Laughter spilled from him, dark and unrelenting, as though some hidden part of him reveled in the chaos. He turned and walked away, leaving Reaper and Melody in his wake.Melody hovered in confusion, her mind racing. The Veil? Tearing? The stories Henry had told her flashed through her mind—tales of the boundary between their world and others, a thin barrier that held back things that should not exist. Her gaze flicked between Reaper and Malik's retreating form. Are they talking about… me?