The whispering wouldn't stop.
Liang Wenyan stared at the symbol etched into his desk, his heart hammering in his chest. He didn't know if it was the rain outside, the faint hum of the city, or his imagination, but the whispers grew louder the longer he looked at it.
He grabbed his phone and snapped a picture of the marking, his fingers shaking. The flash illuminated his dim apartment for a brief moment, casting eerie shadows on the walls. He stared at the photo on his screen. It looked ordinary—just a bizarre carving in the wood.
But his ears told him otherwise.
The whispers felt alive, coiling in his mind like smoke. He stumbled backward, clutching his temples. "Get a grip, Wenyan," he muttered to himself, but his voice sounded hollow in the suffocating quiet.
Then the whispers stopped.
And the room went completely silent.
Not just quiet—silent. The hum of the refrigerator, the patter of rain, even the sound of his own breathing… all of it vanished, leaving behind a stillness that pressed against his skull like a vice.
Wenyan's phone buzzed, shattering the unnatural quiet. The sound startled him so badly that he dropped it. The screen lit up, displaying Zhao Heng's name.
He snatched it off the floor and pressed it to his ear. "Heng?"
"Wenyan," Heng's voice came through, low and urgent. "Something's wrong."
"Yeah," Wenyan said, glancing at the glowing symbol on his desk. "I've got a pretty good idea."
"No," Heng interrupted. "I mean here. I'm back at the warehouse. The markings… they're spreading."
"What?" Wenyan's pulse quickened.
"They're on the ground now," Heng continued, his voice trembling. "And… and I think I heard something. A voice. It said my name."
Wenyan's stomach churned. "Get out of there, Heng. Right now."
"I can't leave," Heng whispered. "It's—"
The line cut off.
---
The drive to the warehouse district felt endless. Rain hammered against Liang Wenyan's windshield as he gripped the wheel tightly, Heng's words replaying in his head.
"They're spreading."
The message had been vague, but Wenyan had heard the panic in Heng's voice. Something was wrong, something worse than before.
As he pulled up to the warehouse, the sight made his breath catch. The markings had spread from the walls to the ground, their twisting patterns glowing faintly in the rain. They looked alive, moving subtly under the flashlight's beam.
"Heng!" he called out, his voice swallowed by the cavernous silence.
A groan answered him, faint and strained. He found Heng slumped against a crate, his face pale and drenched in sweat. His shirt was torn, and black markings twisted across his chest, pulsating like living veins.
"Heng…" Wenyan dropped to his knees beside him. "What happened? What is this?"
Heng's breath came in shallow gasps. "I… couldn't leave," he whispered. "It… it wouldn't let me."
"What wouldn't let you?" Wenyan demanded.
Before Heng could answer, the warehouse groaned. A low, metallic sound reverberated through the space, sending a chill down Wenyan's spine. He turned his flashlight toward the source.
The markings on the floor began to shift, twisting and writhing as if responding to an unseen command. And then it appeared.
A figure stepped out of the darkness, its impossibly tall frame shrouded in black smoke. Its limbs were elongated, its skin stretched tight over bones that didn't seem human. Where its face should have been was a swirling void, punctuated by two burning crimson lights.
Heng's grip tightened on Wenyan's arm. "It's here," he choked out.
The whispers began again, louder and more insistent. They filled Wenyan's head, drowning out rational thought. He tried to pull Heng to his feet, but his friend was impossibly heavy, his body limp as if anchored by the markings.
"Get up, Heng!" Wenyan shouted, panic creeping into his voice.
Heng's bloodshot eyes met his. "You need to go. Now."
"I'm not leaving you!" Wenyan yelled, his voice shaking. He tugged harder, but Heng's body wouldn't move. The markings on his chest glowed brighter, spreading further across his skin.
The creature took a slow, deliberate step forward, the floor groaning under its weight. Wenyan's instincts screamed at him to run, but his hands clung desperately to Heng's arm.
"It's too late," Heng whispered, his voice breaking. "You can't save me. Just go."
Tears blurred Wenyan's vision as he shook his head. "No… I can't…"
"You have to," Heng said, his voice firmer now. "Live. Tell someone what's happening."
The creature took another step, the whispers growing deafening. Wenyan's survival instincts finally overpowered his guilt. With a shaky breath, he let go of Heng's arm.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, the words barely audible over the cacophony.
He turned and ran.
---
Wenyan didn't stop until he was back in his car, the rain washing the sweat and fear from his face. His chest heaved as he gasped for air, his hands trembling on the steering wheel.
His phone buzzed, startling him. He picked it up with shaking fingers.
It was a text. No sender.
"You saw too much."
Wenyan's blood ran cold. His eyes darted to the rearview mirror. For a split second, he thought he saw something moving in the shadows behind him.
He slammed the car into gear and sped off, the text burning in his mind as the whispers lingered in the back of his skull.