The street slammed back into place around me—neon signs buzzing, people with faceless masks drifting past like shadows. My palm burned as though fire had been branded into it.
The symbol glowed there, carved into flesh. Not ink, not light. Something deeper.
The hum returned, thunderous now. I didn't need to turn to know the faceless thing was close. I could feel it folding through the world, peeling space like paper.
I ran. Not because I chose to, but because instinct dragged me forward.
The city warped with every step. Crosswalk lines stretched into endless ladders. Windows became eyes that followed. The masks of strangers bent toward me, their painted mouths whispering words I couldn't understand.
The glow in my hand pulsed in rhythm with the hum. It hurt more with every beat. My lungs burned. My legs faltered. And then—
The symbol shifted.
It rearranged itself across my skin, lines bending, reshaping into something new. When it stopped, the meaning sank into me as clear as thought.
"Stop."
I froze.
The hum staggered, a momentary crack in its rhythm. Behind me, the faceless tide collapsed mid-step, writhing as though tangled in its own shapeless limbs. The sound it made now wasn't a hum—it was a scream, shrill and endless, like a blade dragged across the world.
The crowd didn't notice. They kept walking, stepping through the creature as though it wasn't there.
I stared at my hand, trembling. The word still burned. Stop. It had worked—not just on me, but on the thing itself.
But the symbol was fading fast, lines unraveling like sand in water. The power wasn't permanent.
The creature began to move again, peeling itself upright, stretching into a thousand wrong shapes at once.
The next letter fell from the sky, cracking the pavement at my feet. A new symbol glowed, waiting.
This time, the meaning was even clearer.
"Choose."