The message burned itself into Ethan's mind: Your death is written.His throat tightened as though invisible fingers were squeezing it. He wanted to throw the phone away, to smash the cursed thing against the cracked stone floor, but his hand wouldn't let go. Some dreadful instinct whispered that destroying it would only make things worse.
Selene crouched beside him, her eyes flicking between the phone and the crimson ribbon still glowing faintly in his grip. "You saw it, didn't you?" she asked softly, though her tone carried the heaviness of someone who already knew the answer.
Ethan swallowed hard. "Someone… something is sending me messages. It knew my name, it knew today's date, and now this…" He shoved the phone toward her, the screen trembling in his hand. "Do you expect me to believe this isn't some sick prank?"
She didn't take the phone. Instead, she fixed him with a steady gaze. "The city writes what must happen. The device in your hand is just another mouth it uses to speak."
Her words sent a cold shiver crawling down his spine. He wanted to laugh it off, but the eerie silence that followed swallowed every denial he tried to form. Somewhere far below, the shadows hissed in frustration, as though they could smell his fear.
Selene suddenly stood. Her movements were sharp, urgent. "We can't stay here. The Watchers will come."
Ethan pushed himself to his feet, confusion and dread tangling inside him. "Watchers? Who the hell are the Watchers?"
She didn't answer. Instead, she grabbed his wrist again and pulled him through a narrow archway at the top of the ruined staircase. They entered a long passage where the air was colder, sharper—like inhaling broken glass. The walls here weren't stone anymore but something smoother, metallic, humming faintly under his palm when he brushed against it.
As they pressed forward, Ethan couldn't shake the feeling that unseen eyes were tracking every step. His skin prickled with the weight of a thousand invisible stares. The passage widened, opening into a circular chamber lit by faint blue light.
And that's when Ethan saw them.
Figures. Dozens of them.They stood silently along the chamber's edges, cloaked in robes the color of ash. Their faces were hidden beneath masks carved from stone, each mask featureless except for a pair of hollow eyeholes glowing faintly with pale fire.
Selene stopped, tightening her grip on Ethan's hand until his knuckles turned white. Her voice was little more than a whisper: "Don't speak unless spoken to. And don't meet their gaze too long."
One of the Watchers stepped forward, its movement fluid yet impossibly slow, like a puppet suspended by invisible strings. Its mask tilted toward Ethan. Though no mouth was visible, a voice poured into the chamber—low, echoing, and layered with dozens of overlapping tones.
"The name is carved. The thread is marked. Ethan Cole walks the hollow street."
Ethan's heart slammed in his chest. He tried to avert his eyes, but the hollow glow pulled him in, dragging his thoughts toward an abyss. For a moment, he felt his body dissolving, his own name being sucked out of him letter by letter.
Selene squeezed his hand sharply. "Look away!" she hissed.
He gasped and tore his gaze from the Watcher, chest heaving. "What the hell are they?"
"The keepers," she whispered. "They make sure the city's stories unfold as written."
The chamber filled with a sound like shifting sand as several Watchers began to chant. Their voices layered over each other in perfect, suffocating harmony:"The ribbon binds… the name decays… the end approaches."
The crimson ribbon in Ethan's palm burned hotter, pulsing against his skin. He winced, feeling as though it was fusing with his flesh.
Selene's eyes flicked to the ribbon, then back to the Watchers. She spoke quickly, low enough for only him to hear. "Don't let go of it. No matter what happens. If they take it from you, your death won't just be written—it will be sealed."
Before he could reply, the lead Watcher raised a hand. A beam of cold, blue light spilled from its palm, illuminating Ethan. His skin prickled as though thousands of needles pressed into him.
"The thread frays," the Watcher intoned. "The boy does not belong. Yet he is here."
The others echoed:"Here… here… here…"
The light intensified. Ethan's vision swam, his bones vibrating as if his body were being unstitched. He screamed, clutching the ribbon tighter.
Then Selene did something reckless. She stepped in front of him, her arms spread wide. Her voice cracked but carried through the chamber:"He stays with me! His story isn't finished!"
The Watchers froze. The chamber's hum dropped to silence. For a moment, Ethan thought the entire city had stopped breathing.
Then the lead Watcher tilted its head, the hollow flames in its mask flickering."If the guide speaks, the burden is hers. His thread binds to hers. Their fates entwine."
A chorus of whispers cascaded through the chamber: Entwined… entwined… entwined…
Ethan staggered back, gripping Selene's arm. "What did you just do?" he rasped.
Her eyes shimmered in the dim light, fear and determination warring within them. "I gave them a reason not to take you—yet. But it means your life is tied to mine now. If you fall, I fall. If I fall…" She let the words trail off.
Before Ethan could respond, the Watchers moved. Not toward them, but away—melting into the walls one by one until the chamber was empty. The last echo of their voices lingered like smoke:"Entwined fates. The city will test them."
The silence that followed was worse than the chanting. Ethan's pulse thundered in his ears. He wanted to scream at Selene for binding him to whatever curse this was, yet when he looked at her—really looked—he saw the weariness in her eyes, the loneliness carved into her features. For the first time, he realized she wasn't just some enigmatic guide. She was trapped too.
A tremor shook the chamber. The floor cracked, fissures spiderwebbing outward. Selene grabbed Ethan's arm, dragging him toward a narrow exit. "Move! The city's shifting again!"
They sprinted through a collapsing tunnel, stone dust raining around them. Ethan coughed, lungs aching, but kept pace. When they burst into the open, they weren't in darkness anymore.
They stood in the middle of a deserted street. Skyscrapers loomed above, their glass windows shattered, their steel frames groaning like dying beasts. Streetlamps flickered with sickly yellow light. And along the sidewalks, figures stood motionless—humanoid silhouettes made entirely of ash, their faces turned toward the two intruders.
Ethan's stomach dropped. "Please tell me those are statues."
Selene's grip on his hand tightened, her face pale. "They're not statues. They're the Watchers' other eyes."
As if on cue, the ash figures tilted their heads in perfect unison. The street echoed with the sound of grinding stone. Then, one by one, their hollow mouths began to open.
And from the void within them came a single, deafening whisper:"Run."