"For now…
you're becoming the reason they were looking for you."
His words shouldn't have made sense.
They shouldn't have meant anything.
But the moment he spoke them, something inside my chest tightened — not like fear, not like panic, but like recognition.
As if a part of me already knew what he meant.
My throat went dry.
"Who's 'they'?" I asked, voice barely holding together. "Why would anyone be looking for me?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
Because the pressure in my spine surged again, burning and cold at the same time. It crawled up the back of my neck, raising every hair like static. My fingers twitched. My jaw clenched. My heartbeat slipped out of rhythm.
Thump.
A pause.
Thump… thump.
Like it was trying to sync with something else.
The stranger noticed immediately. His posture shifted — not defensive, not hostile, but careful.
"Stay still," he said.
I wanted to.
I really, truly wanted to.
But my body didn't care what I wanted anymore.
A sharp breath tore out of my lungs.
My knees buckled.
My vision flickered.
The room warped — not visually, not in some supernatural way — but in pressure.
The air felt heavier.
Thicker.
Like the room was exhaling around me.
The stranger took one slow step back, eyes locked on my hands.
"Don't. Move," he warned, voice low.
"I'm— I'm not— I can't—"
Something inside me shifted.
Not physically — deeper than that.
Like a muscle I'd never used suddenly flexed.
The air rippled.
Barely.
Gentle.
Almost invisible.
But it happened.
A subtle displacement of the room, like the space around me changed density for half a second.
The stranger's eyes widened.
"That wasn't instinct," he whispered.
"That was expression."
I didn't know what "expression" meant.
But I knew what it felt like:
My body wasn't inside me anymore.
It was somewhere between me and something else.
My breath became shallow.
My vision stretched.
The corners pulled.
My balance tilted.
"Make it stop—" I gasped.
"It doesn't stop," he said, stepping forward again — slowly this time, like approaching a wild animal. "You have to ride it out. Focus on your breath."
"I am breathing!"
"No. You're panicking. That thing inside you feeds on your panic."
The pressure surged again.
My back arched.
My fingers curled involuntarily.
It didn't feel like power.
It felt like drowning.
Like being submerged in myself.
My hearing cracked — sounds coming in sharp, brittle pieces.
The hum of electricity in the walls.
The stranger's pulse.
The flutter of dust in the air.
My own heartbeat slamming out of sync.
Thump—thump—thump.
Too fast.
Too heavy.
I clutched my chest, gasping.
My lungs felt too small.
My ribs too tight.
"I can't— I can't—!"
"You can," he said firmly, stepping close enough that I could feel his presence grounding the space. "Listen to my voice. Stay here. Stay in your body. Do not drift."
"I'm not drifting—"
My vision tore sideways.
Just for a second.
Like reality stuttered.
Like a frame skipped.
And suddenly the stranger wasn't where he was before.
He was two inches to the left.
But I hadn't seen him move.
Or maybe—
maybe I moved.
My stomach dropped.
"What— what was that—?"
He swallowed once, the first genuine sign of nerves I'd seen from him.
"Micro-shift," he said quietly. "Spatial response. You're slipping."
"I don't know how to stop slipping!"
His voice hardened.
"Arin. Look at me."
I tried.
God, I tried.
But my eyes wouldn't focus.
The room blurred.
Edges warped.
My limbs went numb.
The pressure behind my ribs burst—
—and everything inside me opened.
Not like power exploding outward.
But like a door swinging inward.
A door I didn't know was there.
A door that shouldn't have been there.
White noise roared in my ears.
My breath hitched.
And then—
I wasn't standing anymore.
I didn't fall.
I didn't collapse.
I just…
lost my place.
My body felt a foot to the left of where I actually was.
My heartbeat echoed like it had split into two rhythms.
My sense of gravity flipped, then snapped back.
The stranger lunged forward, grabbing my shoulders with both hands.
"Stay with me!"
"I'm— I'm trying— but— something— something's—"
My voice fractured.
My thoughts fractured.
And then the worst part came:
For the first time since the awakening began—
I heard it clearly.
A voice.
Inside the pressure.
Inside the heartbeat.
Inside the shift.
Not human.
Not mine.
Not separate.
"…Arin…"
A whisper.
Soft.
Patient.
Not calling me.
Recognizing me.
The stranger's grip tightened.
"Arin… look at me. Stay here. Stay awake. If you slip now—"
He didn't finish.
Because he didn't need to.
I knew.
If I slipped now—
I wasn't coming back.
My body convulsed once.
Hard.
The air trembled around me.
My vision went white—
The last thing I remember is the feeling of something inside me stepping forward…
like it was taking my place.