Amara and the guide ran across rooftops, leaping over gaps, dodging shadows that slithered along walls.
"This city… it's alive," the guide said. "It traps you. Every alley, every street… it remembers fear."
Behind them, a familiar sound—a taxi engine, low and rattling—echoed across the rooftops.
Amara realized: the cab could appear anywhere. Every place she thought was safe could become a trap.
The faceless passenger emerged from the shadows on the nearest rooftop, stretching impossibly tall, its whispers filling her mind:
"You cannot escape. Not now. Not ever."
The guide grabbed her hand. "Listen to me. There is a way… but it will cost you everything."
Amara's pulse raced. She had no choice but to follow.
Amara and the guide reached the edge of the city, where the streets faded into an endless void.
"This is it," the guide whispered. "The source. The heart of the cab's power."
Ahead, the yellow taxi hovered in midair, headlights piercing the darkness like eyes. Shadows swirled around it, forming the distorted faces of everyone trapped before her.
The faceless passenger emerged, taller, darker, its hollow whispers filling her mind:
"You've run far enough, Amara. Step inside, and join the others forever."
Amara's hands trembled. Fear clawed at her chest—but she felt something stronger: anger, defiance, survival.
The guide pulled a small, worn mirror from their coat. "This is the only thing that can bind it. Reflect it back on itself."
Amara raised the mirror. The faceless passenger recoiled, screeching as its own shadow fractured against the glass.