Kael was halfway down an alley lined with ivy-covered walls when he felt it — the distinct, unshakable sensation of being watched.
He turned slowly.
At the far end of the alley, where it fed back into the square, a figure stood motionless.
Tall. Unnaturally tall.
It wore deep grey robes that hung like wet cloth over long limbs. A mask, bone-white and expressionless, concealed its face. The eyeholes were blank. Empty. But Kael could feel the weight of its gaze like cold fingers brushing his skin.
It didn't move.
Neither did Kael.
The breeze stirred. Leaves rustled. A bird flitted from one rooftop to another.
Still the figure remained.
Kael raised a hand, half a wave, half a test.
Nothing.
Then — slow and deliberate — the figure lifted its arm and pointed directly at Kael.
His stomach dropped.
Not a threat. Not a greeting. Just… acknowledgment.
Then it was gone.
No sound. No step. Just an empty alley.
Kael stumbled backward, breath catching in his throat. He glanced behind him, half-expecting the figure to be there now, impossibly close.
But there was nothing.
Only the silence, somehow heavier than before.
…
Kael moved like a ghost through Oakhaven's crooked streets, his boots silent against the cobblestones. The sun was lower now, brushing golden light over shuttered windows and painted wood frames, but the town's perfect stillness refused to fade. If anything, the silence had begun to press on him — like a second atmosphere, thick with unseen weight.
He kept glancing over his shoulder.
The masked figures — tall, robed, faceless — had vanished as quickly as they appeared. No footsteps. No shadows. Just the memory of their stillness and the way they'd watched him. Not hostile. Not curious. Something colder. Policing.
Kael ducked into a side street, flanked by ivy-choked stone walls. No one followed. Still, he moved with purpose, eyes scanning the buildings for signs of life that felt real — unscripted. That's when he saw it.
A flicker in the second-story window of a slouched wooden house. Just a curtain twitching. Could've been the breeze. But Kael didn't believe in coincidences anymore.
He tested the door. Locked.
Fine.
A few moments and one carefully placed boot later, the lock gave with a dull thunk. He stepped inside, ignoring the dust cloud that puffed up in greeting.
The place had been lived in — recently. A half-eaten apple sat browning on a table. Blankets piled neatly on the couch. But there was no sign of the owner.
Kael crept up the stairs.
The floorboards didn't creak. Even his breath felt muffled in this place. The upper hallway was narrow and dark. Three doors. One slightly ajar.
He pushed it open.
An attic ladder jutted from the ceiling. A faint scuffle came from above — fast and light. Small.
Someone's up there.
He climbed.
At the top, he found her — a girl, no more than ten or eleven, curled in a corner of the attic behind a stack of old crates. She stared at him wide-eyed, her face pale and smudged with dirt. Blonde hair tangled. Lips pressed tight.
Kael raised his hands slowly.
"Hey," he whispered, keeping his tone soft. "It's okay. I'm not here to hurt you."
She flinched at the sound of his voice, shrinking tighter into herself.
That wasn't just fear. That was recognition. His voice was the danger.
Kael sat cross-legged, keeping a careful distance. "You don't have to talk. Just… blink if you understand me."
A long pause.
Then — one blink.
Good.
He glanced around, then pulled a small notebook from his satchel and slid it toward her with a stub of pencil. She didn't move at first. Then, hesitantly, she reached out and took it. Her hands trembled slightly as she scribbled something on the page, then pushed it back.
Two words, all caps:
DON'T SPEAK.
Kael exhaled slowly. "Is that what they told you?"
She snatched the pencil and wrote again:
THEY COME WHEN YOU DO.
His skin prickled. "The masked ones?"
She nodded, once.
Kael wanted to ask more, but stopped himself. He mimed zipping his mouth shut and raised his eyebrows in a question: safe here?
The girl looked unsure. Then she shook her head and pointed downward — the town.
Not safe. Not really.
Kael leaned back, processing. This was no ordinary glitch in the simulation. These people — this child — had rules. Internalized fear. Behavior that couldn't be faked.
Which meant this place either had some kind of deep programming logic, or… it was running on something closer to consciousness. Memory? Emotion? He wasn't sure.
The girl scribbled again.
YOU'RE SHATTERBORN.
He blinked. "What does that mean?"
Her face twisted in frustration. She pointed at his mouth. Then at his chest. Then drew jagged lines on the paper.
Voice. Power. Breaking something.
Kael leaned forward. "You mean I'm the one who can shatter the silence?"
She didn't nod. But she didn't deny it either.
He rubbed his jaw. Erick hadn't mentioned anything about the simulation being responsive. But then again, Erick always liked testing things he didn't explain.
A distant sound cracked the quiet — soft, but unmistakable. Like wind through metal. Or breath through teeth.
Kael and the girl froze.
She grabbed his sleeve, panicked, and pulled him toward the far wall. A small wooden hatch opened into a crawlspace between buildings. She pushed it open and gestured sharply: go.
Kael climbed through after her, just as a shadow passed over the attic trapdoor below.
No sound. No footsteps. Just presence.