"The ones who were hunting you long before tonight."
The room went quiet.
Not normal quiet.
The kind where the air itself tenses — like the atmosphere is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.
Waiting for something to arrive.
My pulse thudded in my ears.
The humming inside my chest vibrated harder, crawling along my ribs like warning wires heating up.
I swallowed.
"Why would anyone hunt me? I'm nobody."
The stranger didn't answer immediately.
He didn't correct me.
He didn't argue.
That alone scared me more than anything else.
He looked toward the broken doorway — the one he'd smashed through without effort — and his jaw tightened.
"We're out of time."
A cold pressure swept through the apartment.
Not a sound.
Not a tremor.
A shift.
Like the building exhaled and held the breath in its throat.
I stepped back, hands trembling despite how warm the air suddenly felt. My skin prickled. The hair on my arms rose.
"What is that?" I whispered.
"A locator," he said. "They found you."
"How—?"
"You lit up the whole damn district when you slipped."
A chill spread through my stomach.
"I didn't… mean to."
"It doesn't matter. They don't need your intentions. They only need your signal."
Signal.
Like I was some beacon someone had switched on without asking me.
The stranger took one step toward me — not threatening, but precise. His posture was tense now, no longer calm, no longer curious.
Prepared.
"You need to move. Now."
"What if I can't walk?" I said, voice shaking. "I barely know what I'm doing— I don't know how to control—"
"You won't be walking."
Those words didn't make sense.
Until the building shook.
Just once.
A tight, compact tremor — not from below, but from outside the walls, like something pressed in on the structure.
The lights flickered.
The humming inside my chest pulsed violently.
Thump.
The stranger's eyes snapped toward me.
"Don't react to that."
"I'm not reacting— that's not me—"
"It is you," he said sharply. "It responds when they get close."
"Why?"
"Because the thing inside you knows them."
My blood ran cold.
"Knows them how?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
The tremor came again — but this time, it wasn't the building.
It was the air.
The pressure folded inward, like space tightened around the apartment. The edges of the room stretched, then compressed, like an invisible fist was closing.
A sound broke through the thick silence.
A crackle.
Not electricity.
Not fire.
More like glass breaking underwater.
I stepped back until I hit the wall, my breath shallow, vision jittering like reality was buffering.
"What's happening—?"
"They're bending the boundary," he said.
"The what—"
The boundary.
Between inside and outside.
Between here and there.
Between us and them.
I didn't understand it — but every cell in my body did.
My chest tightened.
My lungs strained.
The humming inside me turned from vibration to pain.
Sharp.
Cold.
Familiar.
A memory I never lived.
My knees buckled.
The stranger grabbed my arm instantly.
"Stay with me."
"I can't— it hurts—"
"It's supposed to."
His voice was low, steady, controlled.
"They want you to open."
"I'm not opening anything!"
"You don't have to. They'll force it."
Another crackle — louder this time, closer.
Like someone dragging claws across the air.
I looked toward the doorway.
And froze.
The space just beyond the threshold… rippled.
Not visually, not like CGI.
More subtle.
More horrifying.
Like the corner of the hallway was breathing.
In.
Out.
The stranger tensed completely, like a bow drawn to its limit.
"They're here."
A silhouette formed behind the ripple.
Tall.
Still.
Watching.
But it wasn't a person.
It didn't move like a person.
Didn't stand like a person.
It stood too still.
Like gravity didn't apply to it correctly.
My voice barely scraped out of my throat.
"What… is that…?"
The stranger didn't blink.
"Hunger," he said quietly.
My skin went cold.
"That's not a name, is it?"
"No."
Another ripple.
Another silhouette.
Then another.
Three shapes in the hallway.
All motionless.
All watching.
The humming inside my chest surged.
My vision blurred.
I tasted iron.
"Arin," the stranger said — not loud, but urgent. "Listen to me."
"I can't— I don't—"
"You need to breathe. Slowly. Deeply. Right now."
"I can't—"
"You can," he snapped. "And you will."
The silhouettes took one step forward.
Not fast.
Not rushed.
Slow.
Like they knew they didn't need to hurry.
The stranger moved in front of me, stance shifting. Not to fight — something worse.
To block.
Like I needed shielding.
Like I was the target.
"Stay behind me," he said.
"I don't know what's happening!"
"You're awakening," he said. "And they're here for the thing that wakes with you."
The shapes stepped closer.
The air cracked.
The boundary bent.
And for the first time—
the voice inside me whispered again.
Not frightened.
Not confused.
"…they remember me…"
My heart stopped.
"What— what does that mean?" I gasped.
The stranger's voice dropped to a whisper.
"It means," he said, "you were never supposed to wake up alone."
Then—
the hallway tore open.