The subway entrance yawned before them, its iron gate twisted half-off its hinges. A gust of stale air rolled up the stairs, thick with dust and the faint stench of metal and mildew.
Mara wrinkled her nose. "Lovely. Smells like something died in there."
Jonah didn't slow. "Compared to what's out here, you'll learn to appreciate the quiet."
She hesitated at the top step, glancing back. The street behind them was eerily still. The cracks that had torn it apart continued to glow faintly, like scars on the earth. No shadows moved now, but Mara couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.
Her boots clanged on the first step. "I'm just saying, if a sewer rat jumps me, I'm suing the cosmos."
The descent was long, each footstep echoing against tiled walls streaked with water stains. The once-bright posters were faded, peeling at the corners, showing fragments of another time—concerts long past, products nobody remembered.
At the bottom, the platform stretched into shadow. Benches were overturned, glass scattered like brittle stars across the floor. The tracks below were dry, though something in the darkness beyond them shifted, too fluid to be natural.
Jonah's staff glowed dimly, casting silver light along the tunnel. "Stay sharp," he murmured.
Mara's retort died in her throat when a voice rang out from across the platform.
"About time someone else showed up down here!"
Both she and Jonah froze. Out from the shadows stepped a girl no older than Mara, hood pulled over tangled curls, a baseball bat wrapped in duct tape resting across her shoulders. She grinned at them like this was the start of a party, not the middle of the apocalypse.
Behind her stumbled a boy with glasses too big for his face, clutching a backpack stuffed to bursting. He looked exhausted, like he hadn't slept in days.
"Uh…" Mara blinked. "Did we just walk into somebody's cosplay meetup?"
The girl twirled her bat. "Name's Lexi. This is Owen. And unless you two have a death wish, you'll want to keep moving. Those shadow things don't stay topside for long."
Jonah stepped forward cautiously, staff still glowing. "You shouldn't be here. The fracture—"
"Yeah, yeah," Lexi cut in, rolling her eyes. "We've seen the freaky cracks, the spooky shadows, the whole doomsday special. But guess what? Hiding doesn't help. Fighting back does." She tapped the bat against her palm with a sharp whack.
Mara raised her brows. "And what, you've been batting smoke monsters around for fun?"
Lexi smirked. "Fun's not the word I'd use, but let's just say they don't like aluminum to the face."
Owen pushed up his glasses nervously. "She's not… exactly wrong."
Before Mara could reply, the overhead lights flickered—once, twice—and then flared to life.
And at the far end of the platform, a man in a torn suit stood, briefcase clutched in one hand, his outline blurred like static. He tilted his head, listening for an announcement that never came.
Lexi's grin faltered. "Oh. Him again."
Mara stiffened. "Wait, you know this… thing?"
Owen swallowed hard. "We've seen him before. He… doesn't always stay still."
The air filled with sound then—not silence, not whispers—ticking. Dozens, no, hundreds of clocks, all chiming in disjointed rhythm, echoing off the walls until Mara's skull buzzed with it.
The suited man's head snapped toward them.
And the ticking grew louder.