[SFX: Silence — then rain, thick and distant ]
Levi did not wake in his shack.
He woke on stone.
Cold, uneven flagstones pressed against his back—stone worn smooth by centuries of footsteps belonging to people who no longer existed. Rain still fell.
But not the rain he knew.
This rain was heavier. Slower. Each drop struck with the weight of old grief. No puddles formed—only faint black rings that smoked briefly before fading away.
Levi opened his eyes.
[ SFX: Low atmospheric hum ]
The sky was the color of spoiled milk, veined with bruised purple. No sun. No stars. Just an endless ceiling that felt too low, as if it were slowly descending the longer he stared.
He sat up.
No dizziness.
No nausea.
Only the pressure behind his sternum—stronger now. Awake. Stretching. As though something inside him had tested its cage… and found it wanting.
The blade lay beside him.
Still wrapped in oilcloth.
Still cold.
He unwrapped it slowly.
The steel looked the same—dark, pitted, unremarkable.
Except for the fuller.
A thin line of black liquid rested in the groove, motionless. It did not drip. It did not spread.
It waited.
Levi stood.
[ SFX: Stone grinding under boots ]
The street—if it could still be called that—ran in both directions. The hab-blocks remained, but they were wrong.
Windows gaped like empty eye sockets.
Doors hung at angles no architect would forgive.
Rust climbed the walls in looping patterns—sigils, almost. Half-familiar. Half-forgotten. The metal groaned softly, like lungs drawing breath.
The city was breathing.
Levi turned left.
Instinct.
His shack should have been there.
It wasn't.
Instead, an archway rose—bone-black and crooked, fused with twisted rebar. Beyond it lay deeper shadow… and the faint sound of water dripping into water.
Levi exhaled.
"Cute."
He stepped through.
[ SFX: Pulse — deep, approving ]
The pressure in his chest throbbed once.
The corridor beyond was narrow, the ceiling low enough to force him to duck. The walls wept black ichor in slow rivulets. Where it touched the floor, jagged crystalline growths sprouted—translucent, faintly luminous.
They hummed as he passed.
A low, hungry note.
Levi kept walking.
Time lost meaning.
Minutes stretched like hours. Hours folded into seconds. Eventually, the corridor opened into a courtyard.
Or what had once been one.
[ SFX: Wind through ruins ]
A dry fountain sat at the center—bowl cracked, statue toppled. The figure had once been human. Armored. One hand raised in benediction.
Now the stone was veined with black crystal.
Three fingers were missing.
Seven doorways ringed the courtyard.
Seven sealed slabs of dark iron.
Each bore a single symbol carved deep enough to trap shadow.
Levi stopped.
The rain ceased.
Silence pressed inward.
Then—
[ SFX: Footsteps — slow, deliberate ]
Boots on stone.
Levi didn't turn.
The steps stopped ten paces behind him.
A voice followed—low, cracked, almost amused.
"You still carry it."
Levi turned.
The figure was tall.
Too tall.
Armor clung to its frame—once elegant, now ruin. The helm was broken; half the visor gone. Beneath it showed pale, bloodless skin and one eye of tarnished silver.
The other socket was sealed with black crystal.
The stranger carried no weapon.
He didn't need one.
Levi tilted his head. "You know this blade?"
"I forged its echo," the figure said. "Before your city drowned in soot."
Levi considered that.
"And you're what? The previous owner?"
The stranger laughed.
[ SFX: Dry, rusted laughter ]
"I was its first meal."
He stepped forward.
The crystals flared brighter.
"You feel it," he continued. "The hunger. The pull. It wakes because you woke. It remembers because you remember."
Levi tightened his grip on the hilt.
"I don't remember anything."
"You will."
The figure raised his hand.
Black ichor dripped from his fingers. Where it struck the stone, crystals grew—taller, sharper.
"Three choices," the stranger said. "Seven doors. Three truths. One blade."
He gestured.
"Behind one—the memory you lost first."
"Behind another—the death you should have died."
"Behind the third—the name of the thing wearing your skin."
Levi studied the doors. The symbols shifted when he wasn't looking directly at them—coiling, uncoiling.
"And if I choose none?"
The silver eye gleamed.
"Then you remain. Forever. Until the hunger finishes what it began."
Levi exhaled.
He stepped toward the nearest door—the one marked with a broken crown.
The stranger did not stop him.
Levi pressed his palm to the iron.
It was warm.
Feverish.
[ SFX: Reality warping ]
The world tilted.
Stone became sky.
Sky became stone.
Levi fell—or rose—through layers of black water that tasted of iron and regret.
Then—
He was on his knees in the courtyard again.
The stranger stood closer.
And the ichor had reached Levi's boots.
Climbing.
Slow.
Patient.
Alive.
"You chose," the figure said softly.
"Now survive it."
The black tide reached Levi's calves—cold, heavy, grasping.
He raised the blade.
[ SFX: Blade humming — clear, resonant ]
For the first time since he'd torn it from a frozen corpse three winters ago, the steel answered him.
One clear note.
Inside his chest—
[ SFX: Second heartbeat — louder ]
The echo answered back.
Levi smiled.
Small.
Tired.
Dangerous.
"Fine," he said.
"Let's see what you remember."
He swung.
[ SFX: Cut to black ]