The alley narrowed as Kahn walked, brickwork slick with a sheen that crawled upward instead of down. Each step landed a half-second late, as if the ground itself hesitated before holding him. Damp air clung to his skin, carrying the sour tang of mold and faint exhaust. The fragment inside his arm pulsed in instinctual beats, guiding without thought, aware before he was.
City sounds thinned to a hiss. Colors leeched toward gray; the smell of wet asphalt and iron hovered like a warning.
Then the alley broke.
He stood in a garden of endless dusk. Grass bent beneath an invisible wind, black-green blades slick with dew that left a chill against his fingers. The air smelled faintly of rusted metal and fermented fruit. Overhead, the sky churned like rotting fruit, clouds twisting with a slow, wet rhythm. Every breath left a faint metallic tang on his tongue, like tasting old coins.
At the garden's heart loomed a mansion older than memory. Its walls sagged inward, shingles curling like burnt paper. Windows glowed with a fungal light that clung to the glass without source. Bricks swelled and shrank in slow pulses, breathing with the heartbeat of time itself.
Kahn stepped onto the path. Stone tiles sweated beneath his boots, slick and cold. The air carried damp soil and rotting leaves, each inhalation sticking slightly in his throat.
The front door stood ajar. It opened wider without a sound before he could touch it.
Inside, silence pressed against his skin. A hallway stretched forward, lined with portraits whose faces blurred when he glanced at them. The floor sighed underfoot, soft and damp as if soaked from within. The fragment pulsed—a warning beat.
Shapes emerged from the far end of the hall. Human only at first glance, but their bodies were spliced with rusted metal and broken joints, skin bubbling along corroded seams. Each movement lagged a fraction behind itself, reality straining to hold them together.
Where their hands brushed the wall, wood blackened and crumbled. Paint blistered and peeled in dry flakes. The air carried the stink of wet iron and cold smoke.
Kahn flattened into a doorway's shadow. The figures shuffled past in jerky, unfinished movements—heads twitching, eyes milk-clouded. Every step left tiny blooms of corrosion on the floorboards.
The fragment throbbed, urgent: stay hidden.
He eased backward, edging toward a wider chamber. A floorboard groaned.
His phone slipped from his pocket. It hit the warped floor with a sharp clack—too loud in the padded silence.
Every head turned.
The corrupted shapes moved as one, jerking toward the sound. Their cloudy eyes flared with a dim, hungry glow.
Kahn snatched the phone, heart hammering. Running meant exposing his back. The fragment pulsed hard—now.
Heat surged along his arm. Instinct took over. Metal seams along the nearest creature's arm twisted violently, curling like wire spun too tight. Joints bent backward with a sickening crunch. Rust flaked away, blackened dust scattering into the air. Its body convulsed, a wet, metallic rasp echoing through the hall, before collapsing into a warped heap.
Kahn staggered, nausea clawing at his stomach. Muscles burned, skin tingling with the metallic ache of the fragment.
The others staggered but did not stop.
He pivoted, sweeping his arm sideways. Another creature's rusted limbs shriveled inward, black fragments raining across the floor. Pain flared along Kahn's limbs, warning that he had drawn too much, but instinct guided him.
He darted down a side corridor, and the fragment warped the tiles beneath the pursuing creature, the smooth stone suddenly giving way to a sticky, swamp-like texture. Its feet sank slightly, slipping with a wet squelch that echoed through the hall. It stumbled, unsteady, joints twisting as the warped floor resisted its weight. Kahn could smell the wet decay, feel the sticky resistance against his own shoes as he passed.
Another figure surged. He pushed the fragment outward again, less violently this time, just enough to distort the hallway tiles beneath its feet into ridges and pits. It staggered, giving him a fraction of a second to slip past. The fragment throbbed against his muscles, leaving faint tingles along his skin like molten iron cooling.
Kahn vaulted a crumbling stone planter in the back garden. Dew soaked his palms, stinging like battery acid. The grass whispered underfoot, slick and treacherous. Hedges twisted in impossible angles, pathways bending in ways that made the air smell of damp earth and rot.
The fragment pulsed—find the breach.
He crouched behind a warped statue, forcing his breath silent. His chest ached. Every pulse drew a metallic strain through his body, faint tingles of corruption prickling his skin, a warning of transformation if he overused it.
He waited. Then he sprinted.
The nearest creature snapped its head toward him, jaw unhinging with a dry pop. It lunged.
Kahn flung his arm outward. The floor beneath it softened, a swampy resistance dragging its legs down. Mud-like textures squelched beneath its metal feet, slowing the lunge. The rasp of bending metal was faint but sharp in his ears. Pain lanced through his limbs as the fragment overextended—muscles burning, skin prickling—but instinct guided him. Another creature surged. Kahn twisted the air and floor subtly, tilting its footing; it staggered, giving him a chance to pass.
The crack of light widened—an impossible slit in the air, leaking cold glow.
He dove.
The garden, mansion, rust-bearing pursuers—all folded away like smoke drawn through a crack.
Kahn hit solid pavement. Cold morning air bit at his sweat-slick skin. The fragment pulsed once more, slow and deliberate—satisfied he had survived, if only barely. The metallic ache along his bones lingered, a warning of the cost of pushing too far.
And then he saw Voss.
Leaning casually against a wall, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers, the faint glow flickering against the gray morning. Calm. Patient. Watching, but not judging. Just like the first time Kahn had escaped the office, Voss was here to meet him—not to reprimand, but to make sure he was safe.
Kahn's chest heaved, the tension of the chase slowly uncoiling. Voss took a slow drag from his cigarette, the faint scent of tobacco mixing with the cool morning air. He gave a small nod, a quiet acknowledgment that said: You made it. You're okay.
For the first time since the garden, Kahn felt some measure of relief. The creatures were gone, the warped space behind him collapsed, and Voss—steady, reliable—was here. He had survived the fragment's strain, the impossible chase, and now he wasn't alone.
The fragment pulsed faintly beneath his skin, almost reflective. Kahn touched his arm, feeling the lingering hum of its power fade. He had escaped. He had survived. And for the first time in what felt like hours, he could breathe.