The streets weren't streets anymore. Not really. They had become a labyrinth of doors that shouldn't lock, stairwells that seemed to vanish when I turned my back, and lights flickering in rhythms that mocked any sense of normalcy.
Click.
Metal against metal a door sealing shut behind me. I hadn't even noticed it open.
I paused, shoulders tight, eyes scanning the faint shadows. Every step I took echoed differently, not just bouncing off walls but off walls that might not have been there a second ago. The city wasn't breathing. Someone or something was moving it, folding it around me like origami with teeth.
A low hum ran beneath my boots, electricity or perhaps the heartbeat of the Veins themselves. I ignored it. Focused instead on the pattern, the imperceptible nudges that guided me, herded me, tested me.
A stairwell groaned, metal straining. Dust fell in tiny showers from a cracked ceiling. I stepped back, noting the sound, the shift. If this were a game, I was inside someone else's board now, a piece with limited mobility but unlimited observation.
Every alleyway, every doorway, every corner became a question: trap, shortcut, or something else entirely? I tried the first path on instinct. Closed. I retraced, went the other way. Slight click. Locked again.
The city wasn't alive. He was. The Architect. And for the first time, I understood this wasn't chaos for chaos' sake. Every misstep, every hesitation, every calculated decision I thought I'd made, he had anticipated.
I tested it, deliberately slowing, letting my boots drag over the uneven pavement. The shadows shifted. The hum increased slightly. A flicker of light caught my eye a window I hadn't noticed.
I whispered under my breath, sarcastic but tight with tension: "So this is what being in a board game feels like. Great."
Not that anyone was listening. Not that anyone cared. The Veins had become a weapon aimed squarely at me, and I was both the target and the projectile.
I kept moving, mapping every anomaly, every subtle shift. Patterns began to emerge: doors locked in sequences, flickers of light signaling directions, groans of stressed metal telling me where not to step. The city wasn't alive. He was. And he was pulling the strings.
The realization settled over me like a damp cloak. I wasn't just trying to survive anymore. I was trying to understand. Not to escape. Not yet. Just to observe. Learn. Adapt.
And somewhere deep in the folds of my mind, I knew the game was only beginning.