I crouched low as headlights swept across the warehouse, pressing myself flat against the wall, my breath held tight. A limo glided in, its engine still growling, echoing through the hollow space—like it was choking on something dark and unnatural.

I squeezed through the window, landing silently on a large metal support beam high above the floor. It was just large enough to block me from view. From there, the whole warehouse was laid out like a stage. Catigan stood straight, hands shoved deep in his pockets, looking like a caged bear.

Something’s off, Frank murmured in my mind, his voice a low thrum.

The air shifted, a low, unsettling hum filling the warehouse as another car glided in. Sleek, obsidian, and silent, the limo slid up beside Catigan’s car, its glossy surface reflecting the warehouse’s grim lighting like a smear of oil across glass. The door clicked open, and a figure emerged, their silhouette looming tall and unearthly, barely visible in the dim haze of the warehouse lights.

I didn’t even need Frank to know something was wrong. The very air seemed to warp around them, like reality itself was trying to push them away, to reject their presence. The sensation hit me deep, a chill spreading under my skin that made every hair stand on end.

Feel that? I asked Frank, my voice tentative in my mind, though I already knew the answer.

I don’t like it, Jack. There’s… something wrong with that one, Frank replied, his voice weaker than usual, distant.

The figure moved with a grace that was too smooth, almost like they were gliding, their steps making no sound as they approached Catigan. I couldn’t see their face clearly, but I could feel their presence—sharp, electric, and heavy, like the charged air before a lightning strike. Catigan, for all his bravado, shrunk in their shadow, his usual swagger muted.

They started talking, voices low, nearly swallowed by the distance. The figure’s tone was ice-cold, surgical, while Catigan’s held the edge of frustration, his body language rigid. I stayed perfectly still, balanced precariously on the overhead beam, straining to hear them. Their words were almost beyond my reach, slipping between the echoes of the cavernous warehouse.

Could use a boost, Frank, I thought, opening up our connection a little wider, letting him in further.

There was a hesitation, a pause that felt longer than usual, and then Frank complied. I felt his energy seep into my veins, and the familiar boost sharpened my senses, my vision brightening, the shadows darkening, everything snapping into sharp focus. The murmur of voices below became clearer, the rustle of Catigan’s coat, the soft purr of the limo’s engine—it all rose up to me, like someone had turned the dial up on reality.

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But then it hit me.

A wave of nausea, a sickening twist in my gut, rolled over me so hard it nearly knocked me off the beam. My vision blurred, the warehouse distorting as if I were looking at it through a warped lens. I bent and held onto the beam but it felt like it was swaying, the metal turning treacherous and unreliable. I gripped it harder, my fingers digging into the cold steel.

Frank—The thought barely formed before I felt him waver, his presence in my mind flickering like a failing lightbulb.

I… I don’t know what this is, Frank’s voice was sluggish, his usual sharp edge gone, like he was drowning. I.… I… I…

My vision tilted, the entire warehouse spinning, a cold sweat breaking out across my skin. My grip on the beam slipped, and I scrambled, fingers scrabbling at the rough metal, my legs flailing to hook onto something. For a terrifying second, I was weightless, the air rushing around me, my stomach lurching as I fell. My hand shot out on instinct, fingers barely grazing the edge of the beam before catching hold. The impact was jarring, pain lancing up my arm as my other hand flailed wildly, searching for something solid.

The ground beneath me seemed to pull, a heavy gravity that dragged at my limbs, a yawning abyss waiting below.

Frank! I pushed mentally, trying to pull him back, to steady myself, but it was like he was slipping through my fingers. I could feel his fear echoing in me, an amplification of my own growing panic.

I hung there, my breath caught in my throat, my body swaying. I glanced down, the warehouse floor stretching out below, cold and unforgiving. No one seemed to notice. The hum of the limo’s engine, the distant murmur of conversation—they masked the frantic rasp of my breathing, the struggle of my body against the beam.

My legs flailed, my body hanging like dead weight, and a quiet grunt tore from my throat, teeth gritted against the strain. Every muscle screamed in protest as I swung my free hand up, fingers clawing for purchase, until they finally caught the beam. The metal was slick with sweat, my grip shaky, but I managed to latch on with both hands. My breath came in ragged, desperate gasps, my chest heaving as I fought against the weight of gravity and the raw, biting pain that rippled through me.

Below, Catigan and the figure were still talking, oblivious to my near fall. Silhouette remained composed, Catigan a mix of annoyance and unease. I tried to listen, but the connection with Frank had frayed, the boost gone, my senses dulled. I could still hear, but not with the same sharpness. My edge was gone.

Frank, help.

His reply was a distant , distorted groan. I’m trying, Jack… I...

Suddenly, flashes erupted in my mind—horrific, disjointed images. Bodies, twisted and mangled, faces frozen in agony. A nightmare unfolding under a swirling, kaleidoscopic sky that bled colors I had no name for, shapes warping and shifting like reality itself was fracturing.

I forced the panic down, swallowing it like bile. Whatever was happening, whatever was affecting Frank, was unlike anything we’d faced before. I could feel it in my bones—an unnatural pressure, a dark, pulling force radiating from the figure below. It was as if the very air had turned hostile, thick and suffocating, each breath a struggle against something unseen.