The subway station buzzes with energy—commuters rushing by, distant announcements echoing. Amid the chaos, Rowan stands out with his sleek black backpack, complete with a small transparent bubble. Inside, sits snugly, her fur shimmering under the dim station lights. She stretches and peeks out, her curious eyes scanning the surroundings.

(thinking): So, this is what it’s like out here. Crowded, noisy, and... is that food I smell?

(thinking): Still, it’s not too bad in here. Rowan actually bought me this bag— finally. Guess he’s not so bad after all.

Rowan stands near the platform, scrolling through his phone. He doesn’t notice someone approaching until a tap on his shoulder.

Alex: "Rowan? Dude, is that you?"

Rowan glances up, startled, then grins when he sees Alex.

Rowan: "Alex! Man, it’s been ages! What are you doing here?"

The two share a quick bro-hug, laughter bubbling between them.

Alex: "Just commuting, for a change. Work’s been crazy. You look good though—been hitting the gym, or is that bag your secret weapon?"

Alex gestures at the cat backpack, smirking.

Rowan: "Oh, this? Meet Lyra. She’s the boss of my life now."

Alex crouches slightly to peer into the bubble, where stares back with mild annoyance.

Lyra (thinking): Who’s this guy? And why is he smiling like that? Too much teeth. Definitely suspicious.

Alex: "Nice to meet you, Lyra. Rowan finally found someone to boss him around, huh?"

Rowan: "Don’t encourage her. She’ll get ideas."

They laugh, the sound easy and familiar, and fall into step together as the train pulls into the station.

Lyra’s Bell Rings

The train arrived with a rush of air, and Rowan gestured for Alex to step in first. adjusted her position in the bag, her bell jingling softly as Rowan sat beside Alex.

At first, it seemed like any other ride—two friends catching up. Alex was animated, gesturing wildly as he recounted stories from his travels and near-misses at work. But then it came—a faint, almost imperceptible chime.

Lyra: That sound...

Her ears perked up, and she shifted uncomfortably in her bag. The bell wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that made her uneasy. She peered through the mesh of the bag at Alex, who was smiling as he spoke, seemingly fine.

Lyra: He’s okay. Isn’t he? The bell wouldn’t ring unless...

A pang of fear gripped her.

Lyra: Rowan. Could whatever this is hurt him too?

She pushed the thought aside, trying to focus on their conversation.

Inside the Train

Rowan and Alex find a pair of seats facing each other. Rowan sets his backpack on his lap, the clear dome revealing ’s vibrant ocean-blue eyes as she peers out. Her gaze immediately locks onto Alex, her small form tense inside the bag.

Rowan: "So, how’s work treating you? Last I heard, you were leading some big project."

Alex: "Yeah, it’s... it’s going. You know how it is. Deadlines, clients, and way too much caffeine. What about you? Still surviving the corporate grind?"

Rowan: "Barely. You remember that last night out with the old crew? I still don’t know how I made it to work the next day."

Alex: "Oh man, the karaoke? Legendary. I swear, Emily’s rendition of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ still haunts me."

They both laugh, the kind of laughter that feels like old times, easy and unforced.

From inside the backpack, Lyra watches Alex intently.

Lyra (thinking): Rowan has friends? Huh. Didn’t think he was the social type.

Her ears twitch as her sharp eyes study Alex’s face.

Lyra (thinking): But this Alex guy... something’s off. He looks happy, but why do I feel—

The faint jingle of her bell breaks through the hum of the train.

Lyra (thinking): Wait, what? Danger? From him? But he’s smiling…

Her tail flicks, the motion accompanied by another soft jingle. Alex glances at the backpack, his smile turning curious.

Alex: "Cute cat. Does she always stare like that?"

Rowan (chuckling): "She’s picky about people. Guess you passed the test."

Lyra narrows her eyes further, ignoring Rowan’s lighthearted tone.

Lyra (thinking): If something happens to Rowan because of him—

Her fur bristles slightly as she presses closer to the dome, her ocean-blue eyes fixed unwaveringly on Alex.

Alex: “You’ve changed, man. I remember when you used to be the life of the party—Mr. Goofball, always pulling pranks or sneaking pizza into the library. What happened to that guy?”

Rowan smiled faintly, a hint of nostalgia in his eyes.

Rowan: “That guy had a lot less responsibility. Besides, I figured someone had to grow up eventually. Can’t be the goofy kid forever.”

Alex: “True, but being boring doesn’t have to be your only option. Where’s the Rowan who duct-taped my chair to the ceiling because I ate his last bag of chips?”

Rowan laughed, a genuine sound that seemed to lighten the air.

Rowan: “Oh, come on! That was one time, and you deserved it.”

Alex: “Deserved it? I was starving!”

Rowan shook his head, the laughter lingering as they slipped into a comfortable rhythm of reminiscing. listened closely, her golden eyes scanning Alex. She could tell he was good for Rowan—someone who brought out a side of him she hadn’t seen often.

Lyra: So Rowan wasn’t always this serious. Alex might be the kind of person he needs in his life again.

Alex’s phone buzzed in his pocket, cutting the moment short. He pulled it out, his father’s name flashing on the screen. The sight made him freeze, his easygoing façade cracking just enough for Rowan to notice.

Rowan (softly): “You need to take that?”

Alex glanced at Rowan, hesitating. His thumb hovered over the screen, his smile strained.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Alex: “Yeah, give me a minute.”

He stood and moved a few paces away, leaving Rowan behind.

Rowan (to himself, frowning): “What’s eating at him?”

Lyra’s bell jingled again, louder, sharper. Rowan’s frown deepened as he glanced at her.

Rowan (sighing): “Lyra, what’s going on? You’re jumpy today.”

Lyra’s vibrant eyes glowed faintly, her gaze fixed on Alex. She could feel it now—the heaviness radiating from him, wrapping around his form like a suffocating shroud.

Lyra (thinking): This isn’t just stress.

The train lights flickered, and ’s senses sharpened, a wave of unease washing over her. Something wasn’t right—not with Alex, and not with this moment.

Rixnovem’s Warning

The train plunged deeper into the tunnel, its lights flickering erratically as though sensing the growing unease in the air. Lyra’s ocean-blue eyes darted toward Alex, and for a fleeting moment, she saw it—something monstrous, its form hollow yet human-like, clinging to him. Its smoky tendrils extended toward his chest, feeding off the despair radiating from him.

Lyra (thinking): What in the... a Shadow Wraith? Here?

A low hum resonated in her mind as Rixnovem’s voice cut through the haze.

Rixnovem: “This is no ordinary Wraith. It thrives on his despair, grows stronger with every second. If you hesitate, his life will be lost.”

Lyra’s fur bristled, her tail flicking anxiously.

Lyra (thinking): Why Alex? Why now?

Alex returned to his seat across from Rowan, his expression guarded. He forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

The train shuddered violently, throwing passengers forward in their seats as a deafening thud echoed through the compartment. The lights flickered erratically, casting the subway in a strobe-like glow that turned every shadow into something sinister.

Rowan (startled): “What the—”

The murmurs of confusion from passengers began to fade into an unsettling quiet, like the train itself was holding its breath. Lyra’s ears flattened against her head as she hissed, her body tensing like a coiled spring.

Rowan (concerned): “Lyra, what’s wrong?”

Alex glanced at her, attempting to lighten the mood.

Alex (teasing): “Cats see things we don’t. Maybe she’s spotted a ghost.”

But Lyra wasn’t playing. Her vibrant ocean-blue eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, locked on something no one else could see.

Lyra (thinking): That… is no ghost.

In the corner near the train doors, a dark figure materialized, its form shifting like smoke trapped in a jar. It wasn’t solid—yet its presence was suffocating, filling the space with a bone-deep cold that made ’s fur bristle.

The figure moved, its indistinct edges reaching out toward Alex like claws.

Rowan’s gaze snapped back to Alex, drawn by the storm brewing across his friend’s face. Alex’s grip on his phone was tight, knuckles whitening, his eyes locked onto the screen with an intensity that bordered on desperation. The tension radiating from him was palpable, as if the device in his hand held something that could shatter his world.

Rowan: “Everything okay?”

Alex (hesitated, glancing at his phone.): “Yeah... just my dad. Wants to set me up with someone.”

Rowan’s (brow furrowed): “Set you up? Like a date?”

Alex (let out a bitter chuckle): “More like a marriage proposal. ‘It’s time to settle down, Alex. Take over the family business.’ You know how it is.”

Rowan’s jaw tightened. He did know—Alex had confided in him during college about being gay, about his struggles with his family’s expectations. Rowan reached over, his hand brushing Alex’s shoulder in quiet support.

Empathy ReverberationFor Lyra, time seemed to fracture and rebuild itself in uneven beats. The steady hum of the train dulled, its vibrations fading into a distant echo. The edges of her vision blurred, the world around her dissolving into an unsteady haze.

Lyra (thinking): What… what is this?

The thought barely formed in her mind before her ocean-blue eyes began to shimmer, their light pulsing faintly in rhythm with the chiming of the bell around her neck. The sound resonated beyond the physical, a note that carried through realms.

Rixnovem’s voice broke through the haze, low and resonant, its weight undeniable.Rixnovem: "You are feeling the echoes of his soul. This is Empathy Reverberation. It reveals the truth hidden beneath his despair. But beware—the shadow grows stronger each time he succumbs. Use this power wisely."

A sharp jolt coursed through her, electric and searing. Her eyes flared brighter, their glow almost blinding, and the chime of her bell grew louder, harmonizing with the storm of emotions around her. Suddenly, the train, the passengers, and even Rowan faded away, pulling her into a torrent of raw, suffocating despair that wasn’t her own.

Alex’s pain surged around her, dark and unrelenting. Fractured visions painted themselves in muted tones, each one heavy with unspoken anguish.

She saw Alex seated at a grand dinner table, younger and more vulnerable. His features were softer, but his posture was tense, his back straight as if bracing for impact. The room was lavish, its ornate decorations a silent testament to wealth, but the air was suffocating. His father sat at the head of the table, his voice booming with authority, every word a command.

Alex’s dad: "You’re old enough now. Stop wasting time. Find a woman—a proper one—and settle down. This family deserves stability, not excuses."

The air thickened as the memory twisted and shifted. At the edges of the scene, a faint shimmer of smoke appeared—a formless shadow, watching and waiting.

Now Alex was older, sitting alone in a dimly lit room, his face illuminated by the cold glow of a laptop screen. Papers were strewn across his desk—financial reports, balance sheets, business proposals—all tied to a future he didn’t want. His father’s voice echoed again, relentless and suffocating, reverberating through his mind.Alex’s dad: "You’ll take over the family business when the time comes. It’s your responsibility. Stop dreaming and focus on what matters."

The shadow grew larger, more defined, coiling behind him like a predator waiting to strike. Its hollow eyes glinted with satisfaction as it fed on the weight of Alex’s frustration and fear.

The vision fractured again, revealing moments of solace. Alex laughed with friends—Rowan among them. Their camaraderie offered a brief reprieve, and in those times, the shadow shrank, retreating into the background. Rowan, along with a few close friends, had helped Alex weather some of his darkest moments, their unwavering support keeping the shadow at bay.

But then came the phone calls. The meetings. The suffocating weight of his father’s expectations. Each time, the shadow reappeared, its smoky tendrils tightening around Alex, feeding on his turmoil. With every harsh word, every demand, it grew stronger, more solid, its shape twisting into something more monstrous.

Back in the present, Lyra gasped as the raw onslaught of Alex’s emotions threatened to overwhelm her. The weight of his anguish pressed down on her, suffocating and unrelenting. Her small body trembled within Rowan’s backpack as her mind reeled, struggling to process the torrent of despair.

Lyra (thinking): This pain... he’s been carrying this for so long, even with their help. How much more can he take?

She forced herself to focus, her glowing eyes sharpening as the shadow became fully visible to her. It loomed over Alex now, massive and distorted, its hollow face sneering as it latched onto him with smoky chains. The bonds pulsed with dark energy, each link forged from Alex’s fear and hopelessness.

For a moment, the shadow turned toward her, its empty gaze piercing through the veil of realms. It twisted its grotesque form, rising higher, its voice a guttural snarl that echoed in her mind.

Shadow Wraith: "You cannot save him. He’s mine."

Lyra’s pulse quickens as she tries to navigate the overwhelming torrent of emotions surging through her. The power is unfamiliar, unstable, and as much as she wants to understand Alex, her focus wavers.

Lyra (thinking): I need to see what more I can do to help, but how?

But instead of Alex’s emotions, another wave crashes over her. It’s not Alex. It’s Rowan.

Her vision blurs, the subway fades, and she finds herself standing in the dim hallway of an apartment building. She recognizes the figure—it’s Rowan, clutching a key in one hand, his other trembling as he pushes the door open.

The scene unfolds like a terrible dream. Rowan steps into the apartment, a faint smile on his face, holding a small gift bag.

Rowan (memory): “Thought I’d surprise you…”

The words die in his throat as his eyes land on the living room. A woman sits on the couch, her hands tangled with another man’s. The world tilts as Rowan stares at them, his shock palpable.

The woman—Rowan’s girlfriend—stands abruptly, her face pale. For a moment, it seems like she might explain, but instead, she takes a step back, avoiding his gaze.

Ex-Girlfriend (memory): “Rowan... I’m sorry. I don’t think this can work between us anymore.”

Lyra’s chest tightens as she feels the full weight of Rowan’s heartbreak. His knuckles whiten as he grips the doorknob, his body frozen.

The memory shifts abruptly, flashing through the weeks that followed. Rowan sits alone in his dimly lit apartment, unopened food containers scattered around him. Nights spent staring at his phone, hoping for a text that never came. The suffocating emptiness pulls him deeper into despair.

Then comes the darkest moment. Rowan is sitting on the floor of his bathroom, bottles of pills scattered around him. Tears stream down his face as he downs handful after handful, a desperate attempt to escape the unbearable weight in his chest.

The scene changes again—chaos now. Rowan’s sister, Rosie, bursts into the room, panic etched on her face.

Rosie (memory): “Rowan! What have you done? Oh my god, no, no!”

Lyra (thinking): No. No, no, no!

Rosie shakes him, trying to keep him conscious, her voice cracking with fear. The sound of her dialing emergency services rings through the air, her words barely coherent as she begs for help.

The memory blurs into the sterile lights of a hospital room. Rowan lies on a bed, pale and fragile. Rosie sits beside him, her face streaked with tears, gripping his hand as if her strength alone could anchor him back to life.

The projection is too vivid, too raw. Lyra can feel his pain as if it’s her own.

Back in the subway, Lyra’s bell rings violently, and she lets out a loud, distressed meow. The sound pulls her out of the vision, her body shaking in Rowan’s bag.

Rowan looks down at her, concern stretched on his face.

Rowan: What’s gotten into you, ?

Lyra stares up at him, her vibrant ocean-blue eyes wide with lingering fear. The memory lingers in her mind, a haunting echo of Rowan’s past.

Lyra (thinking): I didn’t mean to see that… I didn’t want to see that.

But she did. And now she knows the depth of Rowan’s pain—the kind of pain that changes a person forever.