The city never truly slept. Even in the dead of night, the streets pulsed with life—neon signs flickering, distant sirens wailing, and the hum of late-night traffic filling the air. For Damian Voss, however, life was far less exciting.
At twenty-one, he lived an unremarkable life in the heart of Blackwood City, balancing college classes and a part-time job at a local bookstore. His world was a routine of lectures, late-night study sessions, and weekend shifts that paid just enough to keep him afloat. It was mundane, predictable—even dull.
But lately, something had changed.
It started as a whisper at the back of his mind, an unease he couldn't quite place. A sense of being watched, though whenever he turned around, there was nothing there. Shadows seemed to stretch too long in the dim streetlights, and on more than one occasion, he swore he saw figures lurking in alleyways—only for them to vanish the moment he blinked.
Maybe it was just paranoia. Or maybe, as he sometimes feared, it had something to do with the past he knew nothing about.
Damian had been an orphan for as long as he could remember. Found abandoned as a newborn at the steps of St. Mary's Orphanage, he had no family, no records—nothing but the name written on a scrap of paper tucked into his blanket. He had spent years wondering who had left him there and why, but no answers had ever come. Eventually, he had stopped asking.
But the feeling that something wasn't right about his life never truly went away.
Tonight, that feeling was stronger than ever.
Damian pulled his hoodie tighter around him as he walked home from work, his breath visible in the chilly night air. The streets were quieter than usual, the distant sounds of the city muted. It was a fifteen-minute walk to his apartment, a path he had taken hundreds of times, yet tonight every step felt heavier, as if the very air carried an unseen weight.
Then he heard it.
Footsteps.
Not his own.
They were distant at first, barely audible over the rustling of leaves in the wind. But as he turned onto a darker street, the sound grew louder, keeping perfect pace with him.
Someone was following him.
Damian's heart pounded as he quickened his steps, trying to shake the uneasy feeling clawing at his spine. He stole a glance over his shoulder. The street was empty. Yet the moment he faced forward again, the footsteps resumed—closer this time.
Panic swelled in his chest. He wasn't imagining this.
He picked up his pace, resisting the urge to break into a full sprint. His apartment was only a few blocks away. If he could just make it there—
A whisper of movement.
Something darted across his peripheral vision—too fast to be human. A flicker of shadow against the streetlights, gone before he could react. His breath caught in his throat as he spun around, scanning the darkness.
Nothing.
Just an empty street.
His pulse thundered in his ears as he forced himself to move, each step quicker than the last. His apartment building loomed ahead, a beacon of safety in the eerie stillness. He practically ran up the stairs, fumbling with his keys before shoving the door open and locking it behind him.
Silence.
Damian pressed his back against the door, forcing himself to take deep breaths. Maybe it really was just paranoia. Maybe he was just tired, his mind playing tricks on him.
But deep down, he knew better.
Something was out there. And for some reason, it was watching him.
Little did he know, this was only the beginning.