Nimra's breathing rasped as the air around her thickened, heavy with metallic tang — like rust, or worse, blood. She pressed her trembling hand against the jagged wall beside her, only to recoil instantly. The stone was alive. It pulsed under her palm like a beating heart.
thump-thump… thump-thump…
Her throat tightened. This wasn't a hospital. It wasn't even Earth. This was Layer 1: Soul Circuit, and she had been dragged inside like prey into a beast's stomach.
From the distance, a voice echoed, fragmented like a broken recording:
"Nim… ra… you… shouldn't… be… here…"
She spun around. "Faizan?"
The corridor was endless — stretching into darkness, lit only by faint red veins glowing inside the fleshy walls. Shadows shifted like crawling insects, darting in and out of sight.
Nimra clenched her jaw. No. It's just the app. It's playing with me.
Suddenly — CRACK! The ground beneath her splintered. She stumbled forward as the floor opened into a wide, spiraling pit. Screams erupted from inside, hundreds of voices layered together, wailing in agony.
She clutched her ears.
"Stop it! Just stop!"
But the voices grew louder, morphing into familiar tones. Her mother. Her younger brother. Her classmates. Even Faizan.
"You brought us here, Nimra… You brought us to die…"
Her stomach turned cold. "No… I didn't… I swear I didn't—"
"Liar."
A guttural whisper slithered right against her ear. Nimra spun, heart hammering, but the corridor was empty. Still, her skin burned where the word had touched her.
She staggered away from the pit, forcing herself to move forward, deeper into the crimson tunnel. Each step echoed wetly, like walking on soaked flesh. The ceiling above rippled, releasing drops of black liquid that hissed when they hit the ground.
At the tunnel's end, a door appeared — not ordinary, but a grotesque archway made of bone, its surface etched with runes that pulsed faintly with scarlet light.
The door breathed. Inhale. Exhale.
Nimra swallowed hard. Her legs begged her to turn back, but she knew there was no return. Not in this place.
"Faizan… please be here…" she whispered.
The bones rattled, and the door creaked open on its own.
A hall stretched beyond, circular, with walls covered in mirrors. But these weren't reflections — each mirror showed a different scene.
In one, she saw Faizan, hunched over, his hands covered in blood. In another, she saw herself, screaming as black wires wrapped around her throat. In yet another, she saw Inspector Jaleel, pointing a gun at his own head.
Nimra's knees weakened.
"What… what is this place?"
The mirrors began to vibrate violently. Cracks zigzagged across the glass, and from within, hands burst out — skeletal, rotten, some still dripping with gore. They clawed, reaching for her, pulling themselves through the glass.
"Nimraaaaa…"
She stumbled back, but the door slammed shut behind her. She was trapped.
The first corpse-hand latched onto her wrist. She screamed, yanking free, but more followed — grabbing her hair, her arm, her ankle.
Her own reflection in the nearest mirror leaned forward, lips curving into a smile.
"If you survive Layer One, you'll never be the same again."
Her reflection's eyes turned black.
The mirror shattered completely, spraying shards that sliced Nimra's skin. She screamed, blood dripping down her cheek. But the corpses didn't stop.
Her reflection climbed out of the broken mirror. An exact copy of Nimra — except for her smile.
"I'll live in your world, Nimra," it hissed. "And you… you'll rot in mine."
Nimra stumbled backward, her chest heaving as her mirror-double crawled fully out of the shattered glass. Every move it made sounded wrong — joints cracking, bones grinding as though it wasn't built to walk.
The thing grinned wider, splitting its face until the corners of its mouth nearly reached its ears.
"You've always been weak, Nimra."
Nimra's own voice, but dripping with venom.
Her doppelgänger circled her like a predator. The broken corpses still clawed from other mirrors, moaning and dragging themselves halfway into the chamber. Their hollow eyes locked on her, hungry.
Nimra's pulse roared in her ears. She clenched her fists, trying to stay steady.
"You're not real. You're just another trick of this cursed app."
The copy tilted its head, giggling.
"Not real? Then why does your blood smell so sweet?"
It darted forward — unnaturally fast. Nimra barely dodged, but the claws raked across her arm, tearing fabric and flesh.
"Aaahhh!"
Blood streamed down. She staggered, pressing her palm against the wound, trembling.
The fake Nimra licked her blood off its claws. Its eyes rolled back in delight.
"Mmm… delicious. I've waited so long to taste you."
Suddenly, the mirrors all around exploded at once. The chamber filled with shards, cutting into her skin, embedding in her clothes. Nimra dropped to her knees, covering her face, as dozens of voices screamed inside her head.
"KILL TO LIVE. KILL TO LIVE. KILL TO LIVE!"
Her skull felt like it would burst.
When she looked up, the corpses had stopped. They all pointed at her. Pointed… and laughed.
Hehehehehahaha… HAHAHAHA!
Nimra staggered to her feet. Her breaths came in ragged gasps. She reached for the only weapon in sight — a jagged shard of mirror glass glinting on the floor.
The doppelgänger tilted its head again, smirking.
"Yes… pick it up. Kill me. Kill yourself. Either way, you feed the app."
Nimra's grip tightened around the shard until it cut her palm.
Her double rushed again — but this time Nimra slashed wildly. The glass sliced across the creature's face. Black liquid gushed out, hissing when it touched the floor.
The monster shrieked — a sound that cracked the mirrors further. The corpses collapsed back into their frames like puppets whose strings had been cut.
Nimra didn't wait. She charged forward, stabbing again and again, screaming with each strike.
"Die! Die! You're not me! You'll never be me!"
The doppelgänger writhed, clawing at her, but with one final stab through its chest, it crumbled into ash.
The mirrors went silent.
Her shard fell from her hand, clinking onto the bloody floor. Nimra collapsed beside it, trembling uncontrollably, her clothes soaked in sweat and blood.
"What… what is happening to me?" she whispered.
A low hum filled the chamber. The bones of the door rattled and began to open again. Beyond it, a staircase descended into deeper crimson darkness.
And faintly… ever so faintly… Nimra heard Faizan's voice echoing below.
"Nimra… run…"
She froze.
Tears welled in her eyes, her heart caught between terror and hope. Was it real? Or another trick?
Her legs shook as she forced herself to stand. She clutched her bleeding arm, looked back once at the shattered mirrors, and then stepped toward the staircase.
Every step down felt heavier, as though unseen hands tried to drag her back. The air grew thicker, hotter, and the veins in the walls pulsed brighter, as if the place itself was alive.
At the bottom of the stairs, Nimra entered a vast chamber — a cathedral of bone. Massive skulls were stacked into pillars, ribcages formed arches, and from the ceiling hung chains that dripped with blood.
In the center, a throne stood — carved from hundreds of spines fused together. And on that throne sat a figure cloaked in shadows, its face hidden, but its eyes glowing like burning coals.
The voice that emerged was both male and female, child and elder, layered into one.
"Welcome, Nimra… to Soul Circuit."
Her knees almost buckled. She wanted to run, to scream, but her body betrayed her.
"Wh… who are you?"
The figure leaned forward. The chains above rattled.
"I am the Voice that feeds your cursed world. I am VoxSoul."
Nimra's heart stopped.
The entity's fiery eyes pierced through her.
"Faizan is mine. And soon… so will you be."
Nimra's blood pounded in her ears as the voice of VoxSoul filled the cathedral. The sound wasn't just heard — it dug into her bones, pressed into her thoughts, echoing in places she didn't know existed.
"Faizan is mine. And soon… so will you be."
Her throat tightened. She staggered back, but the bone floor beneath her flexed like muscle, refusing to let her retreat.
The throne's shadowy figure shifted, revealing more of its form. Its cloak was woven from torn phone screens, cracked and glowing faintly. Faces flickered across them — screaming, crying, begging for release. Nimra gasped when she recognized one.
Her own.
Her face appeared on the cloak, mouth open in a silent scream. She stumbled back further, nearly falling.
"No… no, that's not me. That's not me!"
The figure's eyes blazed hotter.
"It is. Your soul was marked the moment you opened Faizan's phone. You thought you were safe… but you've been bound since that night."
Nimra shook her head violently, her hair clinging to her sweat-soaked skin. "I didn't install the app! It wasn't me!"
A deep, distorted laugh rolled through the cathedral. The chains rattled, skulls split open with sharp cracks, and black smoke poured out like breath from the dead.
"Innocence is irrelevant. The moment you looked, you were seen. The moment you heard, you were heard. VoxSoul chooses, and VoxSoul consumes."
The floor lurched suddenly. Nimra fell forward, catching herself against a pile of ribcages. They quivered under her touch, then snapped open like jaws. She screamed, leaping back just before the bones snapped shut where her hand had been.
The entity on the throne raised one clawed hand. At the motion, the cathedral's mirrors reappeared all around — towering panes of black glass that stretched to the ceiling. They rippled like water.
"Do you wish to see truth, Nimra?"
Before she could reply, the mirrors lit up. Scene after scene played out.
In one, Faizan knelt in the middle of a road, his body shaking, his hands soaked with blood that wasn't his.In another, Inspector Jaleel stood in his office, smashing his own reflection in a glass window, screaming incoherent words.In yet another, Nimra saw herself lying in the hospital bed again — but this time her chest wasn't rising. She was dead, her mother sobbing over her body.
Nimra clutched her head, her nails digging into her scalp.
"Stop! I don't want to see this! Stop it!"
The mirrors didn't stop. They multiplied, forming a spiral around her, closer and closer, each one showing a darker version of her life.
Her father's disappointed eyes when she failed an exam.Her best friend's face the day they stopped talking.Her younger brother crying when she ignored him.
Every mistake, every guilt, every sin — replayed over and over.
Her knees buckled. Tears blurred her vision.
"Why… why are you doing this to me?"
The voice boomed, louder than before, making the cathedral quake.
"Because broken souls feed best. Fear seasons the flesh. Guilt sweetens the marrow. You will break, Nimra — just as Faizan is breaking."
At Faizan's name, Nimra's head shot up.
"Where is he? Show me!"
The figure leaned forward on the throne. Its eyes burned hotter, and one of the mirrors brightened.
Inside, Faizan sat in a dark room, chained, his body trembling. His lips moved, whispering words Nimra couldn't hear. Then his head snapped up suddenly — and for a brief, terrible second, he looked directly at her.
Their eyes locked across dimensions.
"Nimra…"
Her heart cracked open. She reached out instinctively, pressing her palm against the mirror. "Faizan! Hold on, I'll find you! I swear!"
The shadowy figure laughed, the sound so loud the cathedral shook. Chains snapped loose from the ceiling, crashing around Nimra.
"You cannot save him. You cannot even save yourself."
Nimra screamed, spinning around as the mirrors began to burst one by one. Shards of black glass exploded outward, cutting into her skin, embedding in her arms and legs. She fell to her knees, coughing blood.
The floor rippled again, and from the cracks, hands erupted. Pale, bony, dripping with slime. They clawed at her, pulling her down into the flesh-like ground.
She thrashed, kicking, slashing with her bleeding hands, but the hands multiplied, dragging her deeper. Her body sank to her waist. The bone throne loomed above, the entity laughing.
"Down you go. Layer Two awaits."
Nimra screamed, the sound tearing her throat raw.
"No! I won't die here! I won't—"
Her words cut off as the ground swallowed her completely.
Darkness crushed her from all sides. The last thing she heard was the entity's whisper, so close it felt like it was inside her skull.
"Welcome to VoxSoul, Nimra. Let the killing begin."