The horizon was split—a jagged line, like a scar left too long without healing. The sky stretched over the ruins in hues of orange and violet, colors that bled into each other without reason, as if the fabric of the world itself was losing its grip. Silence hung heavy, a silence that clung to the broken streets and twisted trees like a blanket smothering everything beneath it.
Kaden stepped carefully through the remnants of a city that had once been whole. His boots crunched against the gravel, the faint echoes of a world lost in his wake. He didn't remember when the world had started coming apart—maybe it had always been this way, maybe longer—but the unraveling was undeniable now. In the cracks of buildings, in the way the sun no longer rose in the same place each day, in the whispers of voices that weren't there, Kaden could feel it. The rip in reality was everywhere, but nowhere all at once.
His hand brushed against the cold concrete of what had once been a market stand. A rusted sign hung half off its post: OPEN. His breath caught in his throat, a coldness creeping along his spine. He had seen this before. The broken remnants, the signs of places once familiar but now unreachable, like dreams fading from memory. Some things didn't make sense anymore.
"You alright, Kaden?" A voice interrupted his thoughts.
He turned to face Juno, standing behind him, eyes narrowed with concern. She wasn't much older than him, but in this world, age mattered less than the weight of survival. She'd joined him not long ago—her distrust of him clear, yet somehow, they found themselves walking the same path. Kaden hadn't decided yet if that was a blessing or a curse. He was too tired to care much about company.
"Fine," Kaden muttered, though his hand was still resting against the stand, fingers trembling. He pulled away quickly. "I'm fine."
The air felt wrong. It was thicker than usual, pressing down on him with a pressure that was both external and internal. Kaden had learned to live with it, but there were days, like today, when it felt like the weight of the world would crush him in one swift moment.
He looked back at the remnants of the market. The whole place had once been full of life—vendors haggling, people laughing, even the smell of fresh bread hanging in the air. Now? Nothing. Not even the birds dared to linger in the sky anymore.
"Juno," he said quietly, his voice rough, "how much longer do you think this... this will last?"
Juno tilted her head, her expression unreadable. "I don't know, Kaden. But every day that passes, it's like something's... changing. More cracks. More... pieces falling away."
He swallowed hard, nodding without answering. It wasn't just the world. It was him, too.
Kaden felt it in his body. The way his muscles ached at odd moments, like his skin was too tight. The pulse of something unfamiliar under his ribs, thrumming beneath the surface. He couldn't ignore it, but he didn't know how to understand it, either.
The others had noticed, too—those few survivors they'd crossed paths with. Fear in their eyes. Curiosity. Some had even whispered about him—about what he was becoming, what he was capable of. Kaden didn't have answers. But there was one thing he was sure of: whatever was happening to the world was tied to him.
And every day, the pull of it grew stronger.
"Hey, let's get moving," Juno urged, stepping forward. Her eyes flicked to the sky, uneasy. "Before it gets worse."
Kaden nodded, falling into step beside her. But something in him tugged—something he couldn't explain. There was a moment, a brief flicker, when the world seemed to shift, like reality itself trembled on the edge of collapsing. For the briefest instant, he saw something: an outline, a shadow, something that shouldn't have been there.
Then it was gone.
Kaden blinked, shook his head, but the unease remained. Whatever had been out there, watching... it was connected to this unraveling. To him.
He didn't know how. Not yet. But he would.