The red glow from the Hollow Street station pressed against Ethan's eyes like a fever dream. The ribbon in his hand pulsed faintly,
its strange heartbeat echoing in his palm. He stood frozen on the platform, staring at the dripping word "LEAVE" on the wall.
Every instinct screamed to obey, but his legs refused to move.
The train behind him closed its doors with a hiss. Through the window, the old man still sat, watching him. But this time,
his mouth moved. Ethan couldn't hear the words, but he could read them on his lips: "Too late." The train screeched away,
leaving Ethan stranded.
The platform stretched endlessly in both directions, but no other train came, no footsteps echoed. Only silence,
thick and suffocating. Ethan pulled out his phone again. The unknown number had sent another message: "Don't drop it.
It's your tether." He looked down at the ribbon, trembling. Who was sending these messages?
He turned in a slow circle, scanning the station. Graffiti covered the walls, but unlike New York's usual chaos of tags
and scribbles, these markings were organized. Strange sigils, spirals, and crooked eyes stared back at him.
Some looked freshly painted, still glistening. Others seemed etched into the very stone, older than the subway itself.
A distant drip echoed from somewhere in the tunnels. Ethan called out, "Hello?" His voice cracked, swallowed quickly by the
endless black. No response—only the drip… drip… drip.
Then, faintly, laughter.
It was soft at first, like the giggle of a child hiding. Ethan spun toward the sound. "Who's there?" His voice echoed again,
but the laughter only grew, layered, distorted. A second laugh joined, then a third, until the platform was alive with
mocking voices. He stumbled back, clutching the ribbon like a weapon.
"Not funny," he whispered, though his voice trembled. His heart hammered. Shadows moved at the far end of the platform,
long arms stretching unnaturally against the walls.
The laughter stopped.
Ethan froze. The silence now was worse, heavy like a storm about to break. He took a step toward the exit stairs,
but the fluorescent lights above him popped one by one, bursting in sparks until only red emergency bulbs remained.
The station bled crimson.
His phone buzzed again. The same number: "Run."
Before he could react, the shadows surged. They poured from the tunnel like ink in water, writhing and twisting,
forming shapes with too many arms and faces that stretched like melting wax. Ethan sprinted toward the stairs,
his shoes slapping against the concrete. The ribbon burned hot in his hand, glowing faintly as if guiding him forward.
The stairs were longer than they should have been. He climbed and climbed, lungs burning, but the top never came.
The shadows clawed at the walls, whispering his name now, each syllable sliding like a knife into his ears.
"Eeeethan…"
He almost collapsed when a hand grabbed his wrist. He screamed, jerking back, until he saw her. The girl.
Her auburn hair shimmered in the dim red light, her blue eyes calm but urgent.
"Come with me," she said, pulling him to the side. A door appeared in the wall where there had been nothing before.
She dragged him through it, slamming it behind them.
They stumbled into darkness. Ethan gasped for breath, pressing against the wall. "Who—who are you?" he demanded,
his voice raw. "What is this? Where am I?"
She looked at the ribbon still clutched in his hand. "You kept it," she murmured. "Good."
Ethan's chest heaved. "What the hell is going on? Why is this happening to me?"
The girl's expression softened, almost sad. "Because you boarded the last train. And once you board it… you belong to the Hollow City."
Before Ethan could question further, something slammed against the door they had just entered. The walls shook,
dust raining from above. The shadows hadn't given up. She grabbed his hand again, and despite the terror clawing at his throat,
a strange comfort sparked at her touch.
"Stay close," she whispered. "If they catch you, you won't exist anymore."
As they ran deeper into the darkness, Ethan's phone buzzed one last time. The screen read:
"She is not who you think she is."