Ari's POV
"Come."
That was all he said.
One word, low and steady, cutting through the fog like it owned the silence.
I stood there, gripping the metal handle of the bus door, not sure if I was breathing. My mind was still somewhere on that bridge, replaying the screech of tires, the flash of headlights, the weightless second before everything went dark.
Now there was only this; a bus that shouldn't be here, in a place that shouldn't exist.
The man's gaze never left me. He sat at the very back, shadows folding around him like they'd chosen him first. His hair was dark, almost black, slightly damp as if the fog clung to him. And his eyes—God, his eyes—cold, unreadable, but fixed on me with unnerving precision.
I climbed in because standing in the fog felt worse.
The bus wasn't full. Half the seats were empty, the others filled with people who didn't look like people. Their faces were blank, drained of light. Some stared out the window, some at the floor, but none spoke. None blinked.
The air smelled old like dust, metal, and faint traces of something burnt.
I made my way down the aisle. Each step echoed against the hollow space, the soles of my shoes scraping the floor as though the bus was listening.
He didn't move when I stopped beside him. Just watched me like a cat might watch a mouse walk into a trap.
I sat beside him anyway, clutching my jacket closer.
"What sort of prank is this…" I whispered under my breath, my voice trembling more than I wanted.
No one answered. The bus gave a low groan, the doors hissing shut. Then it lurched forward.
The fog outside shifted but never cleared. Like we weren't going anywhere, just moving deeper into nothing.
A few minutes passed. Then the bus slowed again.
The door creaked open.
A girl stepped in.., tall, sharp, eyes lined dark with something colder than fear. She scanned the bus once, her gaze landing on the man beside me.
She froze.
Her lips parted like she wanted to speak, but instead, she scoffed a small, bitter sound and walked straight to the front seat.
The man beside me didn't react. Not even a blink.
I frowned, my throat tightening. "You know her?"
He didn't answer. Just turned his face toward the foggy window again.
I leaned back against the seat, trying to process what was happening. The silence grew heavier. My heartbeat got louder.
Then it hit me again.
The emptiness. The fog. The strangers.
No driver. No road.
No sense of time.
It was wrong… completely, horribly wrong.
A tremor ran through my hands before I could stop it. My chest tightened, breath catching halfway through my lungs.
I tried to swallow, but it felt like breathing glass.
My heart started racing. Too fast.
"No—no, no, no," I whispered, pressing my palms to my chest. "It's not real. It's shock. It's just shock."
But the bus kept moving. The fog pressed closer. And the sound of my heartbeat filled my ears like static.
I couldn't breathe. My throat was closing up, my body shaking.
The air felt thick… like the world was shrinking around me.
"Breathe."
The voice came from beside me… steady, low, and unhurried.
I turned toward him, tears burning behind my eyes.
He looked at me… not with pity, but with certainty. "You're having a panic attack," he said quietly. "Slow down. Inhale. Exhale."
His tone was controlled, emotionless. But something about it cut through the chaos.
I forced myself to follow. One shaky breath in. One out.
It hurt. It burned. But it worked.
He studied me for a moment longer. Then, like it was a casual afterthought, he asked, "What's your name?"
I swallowed, my voice trembling. "Ari."
He nodded slowly, eyes still unreadable. "Okay, Ari," he said. "I'm Theo."
Theo.
The name felt too calm for a place like this.
He leaned back in his seat, resting his arm on the rail beside him. "You're not dreaming. You're not hallucinating. This…" he gestured vaguely toward the fog beyond the windows "is a survival game."
I stared at him, disbelief crawling up my throat. "What?"
He didn't look away. "You died. Everyone here did."
The words hung there, slicing through what little air I had left.
I shook my head. "No. No, I—I didn't. I can't have. I—"
"Calm down," he interrupted softly. "I don't know what happened, but you died."
My heart dropped. He said it like he'd been there, like he'd seen it.
I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling for a heartbeat that wasn't there.
Theo turned his face back toward the window. "This bus takes you to your first world. A trial, if you want to call it that. Survive it, and you move on. Don't…"
He glanced at me then, his expression blank, voice low. "…and you stay dead for real this time."
Silence settled between us again. Cold. Heavy.
The bus hit a bump. I flinched, gripping the seat. The lights flickered, and the speaker crackled to life above us.
Welcome, Players.
First stop approaching.
Theo didn't react. He just muttered under his breath, "Right on time."
I wanted to ask what that meant. I wanted to ask how he knew all this, or why the girl at the front had looked at him like she'd seen a ghost.
But then the screen above the driver's seat flickered.
Next stop: The Blood Market.
Theo finally looked at me again, his voice quiet but firm. "Don't scream," he said. "They like that."