The ash didn't stop falling.
It never stopped. Not that night, not the next morning.
When I woke up, my throat hurt. Like I had been breathing dust for hours. Maybe I was. The window was half open, and all the floor was covered in a thin white layer. It felt wrong. Like snow, but not cold, and it smelled like burned wood.
I got up. My father wasn't home. He always left early, but usually there's a note on the table. Today… nothing. Just a cold plate of food from last night.
I walked outside. The street was empty.
Even the dogs that always bark at me when I pass weren't there.
The air was… heavy.
That's when I saw it.
Something dark, just under the ash, like a rope buried in the dirt. It was long, stretching down the road, thin but glowing very faint, like it had blood inside.
I crouched down and touched it.
It pulsed.
I almost screamed.
It wasn't a rope. It was alive.
The ground shook a little, and I heard something far away — a scream. Not just scared… it was like someone was being ripped out of the world. Then silence.
The thread went dim for a second… then started glowing again.
I ran.
I didn't know where, just away from that thing.
But the problem is… they're everywhere.
Once I noticed the first one, I started seeing them in cracks, under the ash, even hanging in the air sometimes. Some were thin, some thick like tree roots.
I didn't know yet, but these were the Veins. The ones people say carry regrets. The ones they say if you cut… someone disappears forever.
I only stopped running when I crashed into someone. She was about my age, maybe older. Black coat, hood up, hair messy. She looked at me like she already knew who I was.
"You touched it, didn't you?" she asked.
"What?"
"The vein. You touched it. I can tell." She said it like it was a bad thing.
I stepped back. "Who are you?"
She didn't answer. She just pointed to the ash-covered road. "If you want to live… don't follow the sound."
I frowned. "What sound?"
Then I heard it.
A faint, slow heartbeat coming from under the ground.
And it was getting louder.