Rana's fear was no longer abstract; it had weight, texture, and presence.
His feet sank into the brittle earth as though the ground itself refused to support him. Each breath arrived in sharp, uneven bursts, his lungs struggling against air that felt strangely thin. His mind, usually restless and reactive, now stood suspended in a suffocating blankness.
"This… what place is this?" he whispered, his voice trembling in the vast emptiness.
The landscape stretched endlessly before him — barren, lifeless, unsettling in its uniformity. The soil was cracked, dry, and exhausted, resembling land that had been abandoned by time itself. No trees interrupted the horizon. No sound disturbed the silence. Even the wind carried an unnatural stillness, moving without sensation, existing without touch.
Rana began to run.
There was no decision behind the movement — only instinct.
A deep, primal urge compelled him forward, as though something unseen lingered at his back, something intangible yet terrifyingly close.
His heartbeat thundered violently in his chest.
Rana — the boy who had rarely known fear — now felt it crawl through his veins like ice.
Then, without warning, the sky transformed.
One moment it stood clear, wide, and indifferent. The next, dark clouds gathered with violent suddenness, swallowing light and color in a matter of seconds. Day collapsed into shadow.
A flash of lightning tore across the heavens.
Thunder did not follow.
Instead, rain began to fall.
Rana froze.
Something was wrong.
The droplets striking his skin did not shimmer with the familiar clarity of water. They carried a darker, heavier hue. Slowly, with rising dread, he lifted his trembling hand.
Red.
The rain was red.
His breath caught violently.
"Laal…? Why is it red?" His voice cracked beneath disbelief.
The downpour intensified, drenching the fractured land. The dry soil softened, then surrendered, dissolving into thick crimson mud. Each drop struck the ground with disturbing insistence, as though awakening something buried beneath the earth — something old, forgotten, patient.
Panic surged.
Rana ran again, desperate and directionless.
Yet every path betrayed him.
No matter where he turned, the scenery remained identical — endless repetition, flawless duplication. The world resembled a distorted reflection endlessly copied into infinity.
Reality had lost its orientation.
His vision blurred.
His chest tightened.
The pressure inside his skull mounted relentlessly.
Then—
Impact.
A violent collision shattered his momentum.
His body struck a jagged stone concealed beneath the mud. Pain exploded through him. The horizon spun wildly.
Darkness consumed everything.
Rana collapsed into unconsciousness.
Awareness returned slowly.
Not with clarity, but with sensation.
The ground beneath him felt different — solid, unyielding, artificial.
Concrete.
Rana's eyes opened abruptly.
He inhaled sharply and pushed himself upward.
Then he stopped.
Completely.
"This… this is my city…"
Recognition collided with confusion.
Buildings towered around him. Roads cut through familiar intersections. Streetlights lined the pathways exactly as he remembered. Every structure mirrored the city he had known all his life.
Yet something was profoundly wrong.
Rana's gaze darted from one side of the street to the other.
His stomach tightened.
Everything was reversed.
Shops that belonged on the right stood on the left. Signboards displayed mirrored text, letters twisted into backward forms. Traffic signals blinked in unnatural sequences. Architectural details appeared flipped with surgical precision.
It was his city.
But distorted.
As though reality had been turned inside out.
"This isn't possible…" Rana murmured, dread settling into his bones.
However, the inversion was not the most disturbing revelation.
The city was empty.
Utterly empty.
No vehicles moved along the roads. No footsteps echoed in the distance. No voices drifted through the air. No human presence existed.
Only silence.
A silence so complete it became oppressive — heavy, suffocating, unnatural.
Rana stepped forward cautiously.
Each footfall generated an eerie echo that rippled across the deserted streets, as though the city itself responded to his movement.
Observing.
Recording.
Acknowledging.
A sudden growl interrupted the stillness.
Hunger.
An ordinary sensation now magnified by extraordinary circumstances.
"There must be something… somewhere…" Rana muttered, forcing himself onward.
A restaurant stood ahead.
Its entrance door hung slightly ajar.
He approached hesitantly and stepped inside.
The interior intensified his unease.
Chairs lay overturned, frozen mid-disruption. Tables leaned at impossible angles, defying balance without collapse. Plates and cutlery littered the floor, yet no fragments suggested impact or breakage.
It was not destruction.
It was suspension.
As though time had halted at the precise instant of chaos.
Rana's throat tightened painfully.
Moisture gathered in his eyes.
"I… I just want to go home…"
The words fractured as they left him.
Overwhelmed by fear, isolation, and incomprehension, Rana stumbled back onto the street. The emptiness now felt hostile rather than silent.
He stood in the middle of the road.
And broke.
Tears streamed freely, unrestrained by pride or resistance.
The weight of solitude crushed him.
Then—
A voice.
Clear.
Close.
Undeniably real.
"Rana…"
His body stiffened violently.
His eyes widened.
"Who's there?!"
The city answered with silence.
Then again—
"Rana…"
This time the tone had shifted.
It was cold.
Measured.
Neither fully human nor entirely mechanical.
Rana's pulse surged uncontrollably.
"Show yourself!"
Suddenly, the streetlights flickered.
One by one.
Then all at once.
Darkness descended across the city with absolute finality.
Rana extended his hands instinctively, grasping at void and shadow.
Nothing.
Then—
Footsteps.
Behind him.
Slow.
Deliberate.
Tap… Tap… Tap…
Rana turned sharply.
The street remained empty.
Yet another sound emerged.
Breathing.
Not his own.
Warm.
Close.
Terrifyingly near his ear.
A whisper sliced through the darkness:
"You believe you came here…"
A pause.
Then—
"…but Rana…"
His blood ran cold.
"…you never left."
You were always here.