The word struck Ethan like a physical blow.Run.
The ash figures' mouths gaped wider, hollow throats exhaling a wind that reeked of smoke and burning paper. Their bodies trembled, and flakes of gray powder drifted from their limbs like snowfall. Within seconds, the once-still statues began to step forward, their movements stiff and jerky, yet terrifyingly synchronized.
Ethan's survival instincts screamed at him. His grip on Selene's hand tightened until his knuckles turned white. "Where the hell do we even go?" he shouted.
Selene scanned the ruined street. "Anywhere but here!"
They bolted down the cracked asphalt, the sound of crunching ash rising behind them as the figures gave chase. Streetlamps flickered erratically overhead, stuttering in and out of existence. For every lamp that went dark, another figure seemed to emerge from the shadows, their glowing mouths whispering Ethan's name.
"Ethan Cole… Ethan Cole…"
Each time he heard it, the ribbon in his hand pulsed harder, beating in time with the voices. His chest burned with every breath. "Why do they keep saying my name? What the hell do they want from me?"
Selene didn't look back. "Because your name is carved into the stone. You're already theirs. They're just trying to finish the story."
Her words made his blood run cold. He wanted to scream at her, to demand answers she refused to give, but the pounding footsteps of the ash figures drowned out every thought.
They swerved into a side alley, narrow and suffocating. Garbage bins lay overturned, rats scattering as they ran past. Ethan glanced over his shoulder—and wished he hadn't.
The figures were pouring into the alley, their bodies scraping against the brick walls, leaving streaks of gray residue. Their mouths stretched unnaturally wide, jawbones cracking as they howled in unison. The sound wasn't human. It was hunger made audible.
Selene yanked him toward a rusted fire escape ladder. "Climb!"
Ethan didn't argue. He grabbed the rungs, hauling himself upward with everything he had left. His palms burned against the corroded metal, his arms trembling with exhaustion. Selene was right behind him, moving faster than he thought possible.
The ash figures leapt for the ladder, their claw-like fingers scratching at the metal. Ethan scrambled onto the rooftop just as the first figure's hand brushed his ankle. He kicked hard, sending a plume of ash exploding into the air.
Selene pulled herself up beside him, both of them gasping. For a moment, the city around them seemed frozen in eerie silence. The skyscrapers rose like skeletal giants, their broken windows reflecting a sickly moonlight that had no source.
Ethan bent over, clutching his knees. "I can't… I can't keep running like this. What happens if they catch us?"
Selene's expression darkened. "If they catch you, your name burns away from the stone. You'll vanish completely. No body. No soul. Just gone."
Ethan's breath caught. He tried to laugh, but it came out as a dry rasp. "Great. So I'm being hunted by—what? Living erasers?"
Before Selene could reply, the rooftop beneath them quaked. Ethan staggered, arms flailing for balance. Cracks spiderwebbed across the tarred surface, splitting wider and wider until an entire section of the roof caved in.
From the darkness below, something new began to emerge.
Not ash. Not shadows.Something worse.
A massive hand, pale and sinewy, clawed its way out of the hole. Its fingers were impossibly long, tipped with nails that looked like rusted knives. Then another hand, and another. Ethan's stomach lurched as he realized—it wasn't a person climbing out. It was a collection of limbs, stitched together by strands of black thread.
Selene's face went pale. "No… not it. Not now."
Ethan staggered back. "What the hell is that?!"
"The Collector," she whispered. "It comes for those who defy the Watchers' path."
The Collector pulled itself free of the hole. It had no head, no face—just a torso covered in writhing limbs. The ash figures below howled in unison, as if welcoming their master. The Collector turned its mess of arms toward Ethan, every finger twitching in anticipation.
Ethan's blood turned to ice. He stumbled backward until his heel hit the edge of the rooftop. One more step and he'd plummet. "I can't fight that! Selene, I—"
"Then don't fight it," she snapped. Her eyes burned with urgency. "We jump."
Ethan whipped his head toward her. "Are you insane? We're twenty stories up!"
She grabbed his face in both hands, forcing him to look at her. For the first time, the mysterious coldness in her gaze cracked, revealing raw desperation. "Trust me. The city shifts for those who leap. If we stay, we die. If we jump, maybe—just maybe—we live."
The Collector screeched, its chorus of limbs dragging across the rooftop as it lurched toward them. The ash figures began to scale the building, their whispering voices rising in pitch.
Ethan's heart hammered. Every instinct screamed at him to cling to the rooftop, to fight, to do anything but step into empty air. But Selene's hands on his face were steady, her touch grounding him in a way he hadn't expected. For the first time since this nightmare began, he felt something more than fear.
He nodded. Just once.
Selene seized his hand. "On three."
The Collector's limbs lashed out, shattering a rooftop vent into twisted metal. The ash figures' clawed hands gripped the edge of the roof.
"One…" Selene whispered.
The crimson ribbon in Ethan's palm pulsed violently, as if screaming at him.
"Two…"
The Collector lunged, arms outstretched.
"Three!"
They leapt.
The world became a blur of rushing air and flashing lights. The wind tore at Ethan's face, ripping the breath from his lungs. For a heartbeat, he thought this was it—that Selene had lied, and the pavement below would be their grave.
But then the city shifted.
The street dissolved beneath them, buildings stretching and twisting like reflections in a broken mirror. Instead of concrete, a river of black water yawned open below, its surface rippling with faint glimmers of light. Ethan and Selene plunged into the freezing current, the water swallowing their screams.
The impact knocked the air from his chest. Darkness enveloped him. For a moment, he thought he'd never rise again. But then a hand—Selene's hand—clutched his and dragged him upward.
They burst through the surface, gasping, coughing, shivering. Around them, the river stretched endlessly in both directions, vanishing into fog. The skyscrapers were gone. The ash figures were gone. Even the Collector was nowhere to be seen.
Ethan clung to Selene, his voice hoarse. "Where… where the hell are we now?"
She looked into the mist, her expression unreadable. "The city's river. It doesn't show itself to everyone. Only to those who've broken the path."
Ethan's stomach twisted. "Broken the path? You mean… us?"
Selene finally looked at him, her wet hair clinging to her face. Her eyes shimmered with something that was equal parts sorrow and resolve.
"Yes," she whispered. "We've done more than survive. We've changed the story."
Before Ethan could respond, the water beneath them stirred. Something massive shifted in the depths, sending ripples across the surface.
Selene's face went pale. "No… not here. Not now."
A low, guttural growl rumbled from the fog. The water began to rise, swirling around them in a violent whirlpool. And then—two enormous, glowing eyes opened beneath the surface.
Ethan froze, terror rooting him in place. Whatever lived in the river was watching them. Waiting.
The growl deepened. The current pulled harder.
And then the water spoke, in a voice that was not a voice at all, but a vibration in Ethan's bones:
"Ethan Cole… you were never meant to live this long."
the monstrous, intelligent entity in the river confronting Ethan.