The City Had Stopped Pretending

Soren stood in front of the locked door.

It was different now.

Not just because of the words carved into the wood—his own warning, written in his own hand.

Not just because of the mark that burned into his skin the last time he touched it.

But because now—the door was listening.

And Soren was sure that whatever was on the other side—it was awake.

The Whisper That Wasn’t His Own

The room was silent.

But his mind was not.

The whispering was still there.

Not the scattered voices of the city.

Not the distant murmurs that bled from the walls.

This one was different.

It was close. Too close.

And when Soren focused on it, the whispering became a voice.

“Are you afraid?”

Soren’s breath caught.

It was not his voice.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

It was not the city’s.

It was something else.

Something that had been waiting behind this door for a long, long time.

The Mistake That Couldn’t Be Undone

Soren took a step back.

Every instinct screamed at him to leave the room.

To run.

To never touch the door again.

But he had already made a mistake.

The moment he had turned his back on it—the city had corrected.

And now, it was waiting for him to make a choice.

The City’s Response

The air shifted.

Not just in the room.

Beyond the walls.

Beyond the streets.

Soren felt it—Luthathel itself was reacting to his hesitation.

The whispers outside were getting louder.

The shadows from the gas lamps stretched.

The city was losing patience.

It had given him time.

It had given him space to come to his own conclusions.

Now—it was forcing him to decide.

The First Time He Defied It

Soren exhaled.

Then—he turned away from the door.

He reached for his coat.

And he left the apartment.

If the city wanted an answer, it would have to wait.

The World Outside Had Changed

The moment he stepped onto the street, he knew.

Something was wrong.

The city had shifted again.

Not in an obvious way.

Not like before.

The changes were smaller now.

Subtler.

Almost like it wanted him to believe nothing had changed at all.

But Soren was paying attention.

And he saw it.

The People Who Were Not Themselves

The streets were not empty.

The city was still alive.

But the people?

They were not moving right.

They walked too carefully.

They stood too still.

As if they were waiting for something.

Waiting for him.

A man passed him in the street.

Soren saw his face.

His expression was neutral, calm.

But his eyes did not blink.

Not once.

Soren’s stomach tightened.

Then, another passerby. A woman this time.

She smiled as she walked past.

A normal expression.

Except her lips did not move.

Her smile was painted onto her face.

Fixed. Unchanging.

Like she had forgotten how to stop smiling.

The First Sign of Open Defiance

Soren kept moving.

Kept walking as if he had not noticed.

As if the city was not warping around him.

But he knew.

He knew.

The city was reacting to him in real time.

It was adapting.

It was no longer just shifting buildings or erasing memories.

Now—it was rewriting the people.

Correcting them.

Correcting itself.

The Figures That Drew Closer

Then, the real proof.

The masked figures.

They were no longer in the distance.

No longer hiding in alleyways.

They were here.

Standing among the crowd.

Watching him.

The moment he turned his head, they did not move.

But the moment he looked away—

They would be closer the next time.

Soren’s pulse thundered.

This was it.

The first moment the city had revealed its hand.

The Truth Was No Longer a Secret

Soren exhaled.

He wasn’t crazy.

He wasn’t imagining things.

The city had finally stopped pretending.

It had played its game for long enough.

It had erased, rewritten, adjusted.

Now—it was acting.

And if he made one more mistake…

It would erase him next.