Echoes of the Old WorldI woke up gasping. The air felt thick, pressing against my skin like an unseen force. My body ached as if I had been running for days, yet I couldn’t remember why. My mind swam through fragments of memories that didn’t fit together.The ceiling above me was wrong. It was my apartment—wasn’t it? The familiar crack near the window, the faint scent of old coffee lingering in the air—but the walls were a shade too dark, the window frame a little too sleek. My breath hitched.I sat up, my hands trembling as I rubbed my temples, willing the dizziness to subside. The moment my feet touched the cold floor, a wave of something unexplainable surged through me—like stepping into a past that wasn’t mine.Outside, the city hummed with life, but the rhythm was off. I stepped onto my balcony, eyes scanning the streets below. People bustled about, but their faces blurred at the edges, like unfinished sketches. The skyline—God, the skyline. Some buildings stood where there shou

The Overseer’s AbsenceSomething was wrong.I felt it before I even opened my eyes. The air had weight to it, thick and pressing, like the world itself was holding its breath. My fingers curled against the fabric of the couch, the cheap upholstery scratching against my palm.The apartment was dim, the only light coming from the neon flicker of a sign outside. The city hummed beyond the windows, a quiet, living thing. But it wasn’t the same. Nothing was the same.I pushed myself upright, rubbing at my face before dragging a hand through my hair. The memories of the old world clashed with this one, fighting for dominance. I wasn’t sure which version of reality was winning.The Overseers were gone.The ones who pulled the strings, who dictated fate, who made the world operate under their silent, unseen rule—they had vanished.And yet, the world kept going.It was supposed to fall apart. People should have noticed. But instead, life continued, reshaping itself like the absence of power ha

Trapped Between RealitiesThe street shimmered.For a moment, everything—the asphalt, the neon signs, the people moving past—blurred, as if the city had exhaled and forgotten how to hold itself together. Then, just as quickly, it snapped back, like a rubber band pulled too far and released.I blinked hard, my pulse thrumming. No one around me reacted. No one even paused.Was I the only one seeing this?I clenched my fists, forcing my breathing to steady. I needed answers, and I needed them now.---The apartment was a mess of papers, half-empty coffee cups, and the faint hum of Kane’s research board—an ancient thing covered in tacked-up notes and tangled red string. Elias was pacing, his expression tight.The woman from yesterday—the one who had looked at me like she knew something—had vanished before I could get a single answer.Now, Kane was investigating.She barely glanced up when I walked in. “It’s getting worse, isn’t it?”I stopped. “You knew?”She sighed, running a hand throug

The First DisappearanceKane’s expression was unreadable, but the tight grip she had on her notebook told me everything I needed to know. Something was wrong.I watched as she flipped through pages, her fingers moving with a sharpness that betrayed her usual collected demeanor. Every so often, she would stop, stare, then press her lips into a thin line before continuing.Finally, she looked up. Her voice was quieter than usual. “Tony… do you remember Edrian Vului?”The name hit me like a whisper in the dark. Something about it tugged at the edges of my mind, like a song half-forgotten. I frowned, trying to piece together a face, a memory—anything—but all I found was an empty void where something should have been.“Edrian Vului?” I echoed, the name feeling foreign in my mouth.Kane studied my face like she was waiting for something to click.Nothing did.I shook my head slowly. “I… I think I do? No, wait. I should remember him, shouldn’t I?” My frustration deepened as I forced my mind

Rewriting FateElias shouldn’t have done it.I knew it the second I heard the sound.A deep, unnatural hum filled the air, vibrating through my bones like the city itself had drawn a slow, shuddering breath. The light in the room flickered—not just dimming, but twisting like it was struggling to stay in place.And then the man appeared.His name was Michael Brandt. Or at least, it used to be.I had only met him once before, but I remembered him. A historian. Mid-forties. A face that always looked like it was deep in thought, stuck between curiosity and caution.But the thing sitting in the chair across from Elias?That wasn’t him.His chest heaved, his breath ragged. His skin looked stretched too tight like he’d been crammed back into his own body and hadn’t fully settled yet. His hands gripped the arms of the chair hard enough that his knuckles turned white.But it was his eyes that made my stomach drop.Wide. Wild. The look of someone who had seen something they weren’t supposed to.