Falling. Again.
But this time, it felt different.
Ezra had no sense of distance, no concept of time. The world wasnt rushing past himit was peeling away, unraveling like ink dissolving in water. Shapes blurred. Colors twisted. The space around him flexed, folding and unfolding in ways that made his mind ache.
Then
Impact.
Not hard, not painful. Just a return.
His boots touched solid ground. The air pressed against his skin, damp and cool, carrying the scent of rain-soaked stone and distant smoke.
Ezra exhaled, slow and controlled. His vision cleared.
And he found himself standing in the middle of Eldenwald.
Or at leastwhat should have been Eldenwald.
Something was wrong.
The gas lamps still burned, their golden glow casting long, flickering shadows across the cobblestone streets. The buildings still loomed, tall and dark against the fog-heavy sky. But there was a stillness to everything.
Too still.
The city wasnt breathing.
Ezra turned his head, scanning the street. No carriages rattling over the stones. No voices echoing from the taverns. No distant hum of industry.
He was alone.
His stomach tightened.
Eldenwald was never silent. Even in the dead of night, there were always signs of lifedrunken laughter, the soft rustle of movement behind curtained windows, the distant bark of a stray hound.
Now?
Nothing.
Ezra took a cautious step forward. His boots made contact with the stonebut the sound felt off. Muffled. Like the city itself was swallowing the noise.
He reached for the nearest door, fingers brushing the iron handle. Cold. Real. He turned it
Locked.
He moved to the next. Then another. All locked.
He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think. Was this Eldenwald?
Or was it something else?
His gaze drifted upward. The fog clung thick between the rooftops, rolling in slow, deliberate currents. But beyond itno stars. No moon. Just an endless, stretching black.
Something shifted at the edge of his vision.
Ezra turned sharply.
Nothing.
Just an empty street.
His jaw tightened. His instincts screamed that he wasnt alone. That something was watching.
Then
A sound.
Faint. Distant.
A soft, rhythmic tapping.
Like footsteps.
Ezra inhaled through his nose. He didnt move, didnt turn toward the source.
He just listened.
Step. Step. Step.
Measured. Unhurried.
Coming closer.
He finally turned his head.
And the street behind him was no longer empty.
A man stood beneath the gaslight.
Tall. Still. Wrapped in a long coat, a wide-brimmed hat shadowing his face.
Ezras pulse slowed.
The man did not move.
But the shadows around him did.
Curling at his feet. Stretching too far.
And then
Ezras breath hitched.
Because the gaslight above them was casting only one shadow.
His.
The man had none.
A low whisper curled through the air, not from the man, but from somewhere else.
"You are not supposed to be here."
Ezra didnt flinch.
He squared his stance. His fingers curled toward the knife in his coat.
Then he spoke.
"Neither are you."
The silence stretched. The city seemed to wait.
Then
The man tilted his head. Just slightly.
The gas lamp flickered.
And he was gone.
Ezra exhaled, slow and steady.
The street was empty again.
But the city was still watching.