The school courtyard was a blur of noise, students' laughter and chatter a dull roar as Joshua Wise pushed through the crowd. His oxfords crunched on the gravel path, his breath uneven, the pain in his chest—sharp, twisting, not quite a stomachache—lingering from the library. He'd confessed to Yumi, his words spilling out: "I can't stop thinking about you," her sketches of moons and rifts haunting him. Her soft smile—"I've noticed you too"—had lit something in him, but the sudden pain had driven him out, chess pieces scattering, her voice calling after him. Now, the community garden's crimson roses pulsed with an unnatural violet glow, and whispers from his dreams echoed louder: Fire calls, but the void answers.
Leo's shout cut through the haze. "Josh! Where you off to?" His lanky figure jogged closer, but Joshua waved him off, forcing a grin. "Later, Leo," he muttered, voice rough. Priya glanced up from her bench, notebook open to moon-hero tales. "Josh, you look spooked!" He ignored her, slipping through the school gates, the air heavy with damp earth and a sharp, metallic tang.
London's streets sprawled gray and wet, puddles reflecting flickering streetlights, even in daylight. The pain ebbed, leaving a hollow ache, a restless pull Joshua couldn't shake. He needed to clear his head, to drown out the whispers. His notebook, tucked in his bag, called to him—lyrics about ash and voids. He ducked into a familiar café, its chipped mugs and burnt-coffee smell grounding him. Settling into a corner booth, he opened the notebook, pen scratching: "Shadows hum, pulling at the seams…" But the words felt heavy, wrong, the whispers urging him to move, to find her. The café's lights flickered, shadows twisting toward him. A waitress muttered about faulty wiring, but Joshua's gut twisted—dread, cold and sharp, like the violet shimmer at Raj's garage.
Afternoon sun broke through the clouds, casting pale gold over the streets. His phone buzzed—Leo: "Mate, you good? Come by later, yeah?" The whispers surged: Tell him. Make him understand. Joshua shoved the notebook into his bag, heading for Leo's flat. The city's pulse was too loud—streetlights humming, shadows stretching, their edges pulsing violet, like cracks in reality.
Leo's flat was in a graffiti-tagged block, the buzzer rasping. The stairwell's fluorescent lights flickered, shadows moving when they shouldn't. Leo sprawled on his couch, hoodie oversized, grin wide. "Yo, Josh! Thought you'd vanished into Yumi's sketchbook. So, spill—how'd the library confession go?"
Joshua slumped into a chair, fingers tugging at his hair. "I told her," he said, voice low, almost swallowed by the room's hum. "During chess. Said I like her. A lot. It just… came out." His cheeks flushed, Yumi's smile clashing with the ache in his chest.
Leo laughed, bright and unguarded. "Mate, you're whipped! Did she blush? Bet she's doodling your name with hearts by now."
The laugh sparked something sharp, foreign. Joshua's eyes narrowed, catching the flickering light. "It's not funny, Leo," he snapped, voice jagged. "You think my life's a joke?" He leaned forward, fists clenching, the air thickening, lights flickering faster, shadows curling like tendrils.
Leo's grin faltered, hands raised. "Whoa, easy, mate. Just messing. You okay?"
Joshua's breath hitched, the room closing in, whispers roaring: He's mocking you. They all are. His palms prickled, a restless warmth—not fire, but a latent spark. "I'm fine," he lied, standing, oxfords scuffing the floor. "Gotta go."
"Josh, hold up—" Leo called, but Joshua was out, the stairwell's shadows twitching. His phone was in his hand, typing to Yumi: "Need to talk. At your place. Now." The words felt wrong, like someone else's, but he sent them, the screen's glow harsh.
The walk to Yumi's was a blur, London's pulse too alive. Streetlights buzzed discordantly, shadows pulsing violet in alleys, like the tear at Raj's garage. His stomach twisted, but the whispers drowned it: Make her understand. Yumi's house glowed warmly. He knocked, the sound desperate. She opened the door, green sweater dirt-smudged, brown eyes wide. "Josh? It's late. You okay?"
"I need to talk," he said, voice rough, unsteady. His eyes burned with foreign intensity. "About the library. I meant it, Yumi. I can't stop thinking about you." He stepped closer, too close, shadow stretching jaggedly.
Yumi gripped the doorframe, alarmed. "Josh, you're scaring me. You're not yourself. Go home."
The rejection stung, whispers surging: She doesn't care. Force her. His hand reached out, trembling, as if pulled. "Yumi, wait—" he croaked, his real self breaking through. "Something's wrong." He stumbled back, clutching his head, whispers roaring: Take her. The streetlight flickered wildly, shadows writhing from the alley's violet tear, its hum rattling his teeth.
Yumi's eyes softened but stayed wary. "Josh, go home. We'll talk tomorrow." The door clicked shut, the lock snapping.
Joshua froze, whispers deafening: Break the door. Make her yours. His palms prickled, the spark restless. The alley's tear widened, a writhing, oily mass emerging—tendrils twitching, a Regret Shade feeding on his doubt, fear, love. The hum whispered his name, pulling him closer.
Joshua froze, heart pounding. In the tear's violet glow, a shadow flickered—humanlike, featureless, with piercing white eyes. He'd seen it before, at Raj's garage, skittering in the rift's depths alongside a metallic spider-thing. The memory hit like a jolt, sharpening his dread. The whispers faltered, his real self clawing back.
A young male stepped from the shadows—silver-white hair glinting, turquoise-blue eyes piercing the gloom, black coat's hems fading into wisps. A shadow mirrored him, formless, its glowing white eyes locked on the Shade, moving with uncanny precision. The air chilled, the streetlight's flicker slowing.
"Joshua Wise," the young male said, voice low, cutting through the whispers. "You're not alone. Fight it."