The City Was Watching

Soren sat at his desk, staring at the locked door across the room.

It had been following him.

It had appeared in places it shouldn’t.

And now—it had his handwriting carved into it.

> Do not open this door. Not yet.

His own warning.

But when had he written it?

How many times had he stood in this exact spot, reading the same message, feeling the same growing unease?

His fingers twitched.

He had played along for too long.

The city was watching, waiting, shaping itself around him.

But what would happen if he stopped playing by its rules?

The Experiment That Shouldn’t Be Done

Soren took a slow breath.

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Then he did something he should not have done.

He turned his back on the door.

The room shifted.

Not physically. Not visibly.

But he felt it.

A subtle change.

Like something had been waiting for this.

His pulse quickened.

He counted in his head.

Five seconds.

Ten.

Fifteen.

Then, carefully—he turned back around.

The door was closer.

The Correction Had Begun

Soren’s stomach twisted.

It had moved.

Not by much.

But enough.

Enough to prove something.

The city was not just erasing, not just shifting.

It was correcting.

And he had just made his first mistake.

The Presence Behind the Door

The air grew colder.

The door was breathing.

Not physically.

But something on the other side was aware of him.

He could feel it now.

Like a thought pressing against his own.

Like a whisper curling against his ear.

His throat tightened.

His instincts screamed at him to step back.

Instead—he stepped forward.

The whispering rose.

The city was trying to warn him.

Not to protect him.

To protect itself.

The Mark That Burned

Soren pressed his palm against the wood.

The moment he touched it—

Pain.

Searing.

Crawling beneath his skin.

He yanked his hand away, stumbling back.

A symbol glowed against the door.

The same sigil that had burned into his skin.

The city had marked him.

And now, it had marked the door.

A warning.

A threat.

Or something else entirely.

The Whisper That Was Not the City’s

Then—

A new sound.

Not from the city.

Not from the whispers.

From inside the door.

“I remember you.”

Soren’s blood went cold.

Not a whisper.

Not the shifting, shifting presence of the city.

A voice.

Someone—or something—on the other side.

And it knew him.

The Fear That Was Real

Soren staggered back.

His breath came sharp, ragged.

This was different.

The city did not speak like this.

The masked figures did not talk.

This was something else.

Something the city had been hiding from him.

And now, he had found it.

His fingers twitched toward the handle.

He should not.

He should not.

He should not.

But—

The door clicked.

Unlocked.

Waiting.

Soren’s pulse pounded.

He reached for the handle—

And the whispering screamed.