The sky had become red, similarly resembling a huge pool of red blood.
Leo slowly lowered his gaze to the road.
Cars had come to a halt.
Citizens stepped out, staring silently at the bloodstained sky as if hypnotized.
His instincts screamed something he didn't want to acknowledge.
There's no way… I must be dreaming.
"Hey, what's going on?"
A man's voice broke the tension as he slammed his palm against the dashboard of his car.
His engine wouldn't start.
But that wasn't the strange part.
None of the vehicles could move…
Cars, buses, motorcycles… every form of transport had gone silent, like they had received a collective signal to stop functioning.
Just as Leo tried to piece it all together..
Boom!
A deafening crash erupted to his far left.
He turned…
And nearly vomited.
A helicopter had plummeted into a nearby building, the explosion ripping through the upper floors.
Flames roared to life.
Blood splattered across the sidewalk.
Bodies…. or what was left of them were scattered in gruesome disarray.
Frozen in place, Leo felt a sudden compulsion.
He reached for his phone.
No service.
Just as he'd feared.
Whatever was happening was definitely not normal.
Maybe it's the end of the world.
Leo's gaze remained fixed on the ground.
Ah, who cares? I lived a worthless life anyway.
A flood of memories began to resurface…
The first time he picked up writing as a hobby.
Then, the school days he began to skip just so he could write.
He became addicted to the worlds he built, to the characters he created.
But that obsession had cost him everything.
Leo let out a low, bitter chuckle.
Guess I should've listened to you, Dad. I'm no use to anyone like this.
Just then, he felt a sudden tug on his shoulder.
He turned, startled to find Elizabeth clutching him tightly.
"Lisa…"
He reached out to her, confused but froze.
Because that's when he noticed it.
The sky had cracked.
Not metaphorically… literally.
Like glass splitting under pressure, the air shimmered… rippled…
And then, something stepped through.
A two-legged, fox-like creature.
At first glance, it appeared small… harmless even.
Its ember-hued fur shimmered in the strange light, and its multiple glowing tails swayed gently behind it. With its almost plush-toy appearance, one might have mistaken it for something out of a child's dream.
Well… until it spoke.
"Urgh, how revolting…" it sneered, its voice sharp and oddly refined, like someone who'd stepped into filth wearing silk.
The fox-like creature yawned, its glowing tails swaying as it took a few steps forward. It glanced around at the terrified people, frozen cars, and smoke rising from the wrecked skyline.
"Ah…" it murmured, then cleared its throat, loud enough to echo unnaturally across the street.
"Attention, characters of this collapsing setting," it said, its voice crisp and strangely melodic. "Do not panic. Well… panic if you must. But know this…"
It raised a paw dramatically.
"You are not dying. Not yet. You're simply being… rewritten."
A beat of silence passed. Then, with a slight bow, it continued.
"I am a Narrator. And this…" it swept its paw toward the crimson sky and fractured air, "...is your prologue."
It smiled, eyes gleaming like molten gold.
"Now then. Let the real story begin."
Leo opened his mouth, unsure if it was a question, a curse, or a scream trying to escape.
I should run. But where?
Beside him, Elizabeth's hand tightened around his arm.
"Leo…" she whispered, voice trembling. "What the hell is that thing?"
Before he could reply, someone beat him to it.
"What the fuck is actually going on?!" a voice roared from the crowd.
Everyone turned. A man stormed toward the fox-like creature, fists clenched, face twisted with rage and confusion.
The creature sighed, clearly bored.
"Humans," it muttered. "Always so dramatic when facing something bigger than themselves. Very well…"
It raised one glowing paw, then snapped its clawed fingers.
Click.
At once, holographic screens flickered into the air before each person. Transparent, glowing, floating like mist-born windows into some unknown program.
On every screen were the same two words:
[ ACCEPT ]
[ DECLINE ]
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"This isn't a game," The Narrator said calmly. "Writers from all across your world have been chosen to participate in what you may call… The Stories. The goal is simple: survive, create, and perhaps… just perhaps become…"
Its voice dipped, rich with promise.
"The Lord of the Stories."
"What kind of sick joke is this?!" the same man snarled, flipping off the floating screen and turning his back.
"I decline, you crazy furball, screw your cult!"
He took one step forward.
Then another.
Then…
SPLAT.
A sickening sound echoed through the street. Everyone flinched. A woman screamed.
Leo's eyes widened as blood splashed across the sidewalk.
Where the man had stood was now a pile of flesh unformed, steaming, quivering. Bones jutted out like snapped sticks. His screen blinked once. Then vanished.
The Narrator didn't even blink.
"Declining," it said dryly, "is not a wise option."
The sight of the pile of gooey flesh almost made Leo nauseous but when he saw the dreaded look on Elizabeth, he knew had to be strong.
Damn, that was disgusting
Leo was beginning to find it hard to keep his cool.
He looked at the screen in front of him.
Accept or Decline, they make it seem like you have a choice when in reality you have none.
The creature looked down at them then let out a bored sigh.
"You know what…" it said then snapped its fingers. "How about we make this a little bit exciting?"
Exciting…. What possibly could he….
Then he saw it. A timer of 60 seconds.
"If you refuse to pick within that time," it said, jumping around in the sky with a playful tone. Then suddenly after coming to a pause, it's face distorted a bit. The smile… wider and creepier.
"You'll die."
The timer ticked.
00:03… 00:02…
Leo clenched his jaw, his fingers trembling. He didn't want to die. Not like this. Not in a rain-soaked street, as a nobody intern who failed at the one thing he ever loved.
He glanced sideways. Elizabeth's eyes were wide, her breath shaky as she stared at her own hovering screen. Her hand hovered uncertainly.
00:01…
I don't know what this is, Leo thought, but I can't just disappear without doing something that matters.
He reached out and tapped Accept. At the same moment, Elizabeth did the same.
The screen blinked white.
And then his body began to disintegrate.
He felt it in waves, first the sensation of pins and needles, then cold fire running through his veins. His skin faded into shimmering particles, drifting up into the red sky like scattered ash. Panic bloomed in his chest, but it was too late to scream.
Then…
Darkness.
When Leo opened his eyes, he was no longer on the street.
He was seated in a grand, dimly lit hall, the walls too tall to see the ceiling, and lined with ancient carvings that seemed to shift if you stared too long. Candles floated mid-air, their flames greenish and still.
And he was seated not on a regular chair but at the head of a massive round table.
Around him sat others, some in robes, some armored, some looking disturbingly inhuman already in a heated discussion.
"Lunaris is unbalanced again," one voice snapped. A woman with purple eyes.
"We cannot allow it to collapse before the shipments arrive," another rumbled, a half-shadowed man who seemed to have no mouth but who spoke anyway.
"This is what happens when you let someone from twilight interfere with a realm…"
Leo could barely follow their words. His head throbbed. His limbs felt heavy.
What… where am I?
Then, floating before him, a screen appeared:
*Welcome to The Stories.*
Before he could even fully process that, another question popped up in glowing silver text:
*What's your identity?*
The voices around the table paused. A new presence turned to him, a figure cloaked in deep violet. He or it studied Leo with a curious tilt of its head.
"So, our new leader," the figure asked, voice calm but firm, "what do we call you?"
Leo stared at the screen.
My name…?
His mind raced. He thought of his old self, the kid who used to stay up all night crafting worlds, building characters, weaving hopes onto a blank page. He thought of how it all crumbled. Of the humiliation. The failure. The rejection.
No one ever saw the story I tried to write. But maybe… this time...
His lips parted.
"…Hatzia Apoty," he said quietly. Then louder, "But feel free to call me…"
He looked each of them in the eye.
"The Failure."