My first thought wasn't fear.
It wasn't confusion.
It wasn't even pain.
It was sound.
Soft.
Constant.
Rhythmic.
Not a heartbeat.
Not breathing.
Not anything human.
More like… the hum of electricity running through walls, except deeper. Older. Like the world itself had a pulse and I had fallen asleep with my ear pressed against it.
Hum…
Hum…
Hum…
It took me a few seconds to realize the sound wasn't around me.
It was inside me.
I opened my eyes.
Slowly.
The ceiling above me was cracked — thin jagged lines stretching like spiderwebs from the center. Dust clung to the fissures, drifting down in soft flakes with every breath.
I blinked hard.
I wasn't on the floor.
I was on the wall.
Literally.
Hanging half-sideways, shoulder pressed against the plaster like gravity had forgotten what direction it was supposed to pull me in.
My stomach lurched.
"What the—"
The moment I spoke, gravity remembered its job.
I slid down the wall and hit the floor with a dull thud.
Pain shot up my spine.
Good.
Pain meant I was still me.
Mostly.
I pushed myself up slowly, palms shaky, heart skittering in my chest. The humming didn't stop. It vibrated beneath my ribs, behind my teeth, at the base of my skull.
A presence.
Sleeping.
Curling.
Resting.
Inside me.
No—
Not resting.
Waiting.
The room came into focus piece by piece.
The broken door.
The splintered frame.
The scattered debris.
And—
I froze.
The stranger was still here.
Not dead.
Not attacking.
Not gloating.
He was kneeling in the corner of the room, head bowed, shoulders trembling once in a while like he was trying to steady himself.
His right hand was crushed against the floor.
Not broken.
Not bleeding.
Crushed.
Like something had closed around it and pressed bone to the edge of snapping.
A tiny wave of nausea rolled through me.
"Did I—"
He lifted his head slowly.
Not angry.
Not afraid.
Wary.
Like I was something he wasn't sure he should get too close to.
"You lost control," he said quietly.
His voice was rough, scraped thin.
"You slipped."
"What… did I do?"
He didn't answer right away.
He stood up — slowly, carefully, like someone standing near a wild animal that might lash out. His crushed hand hung limp at his side. When he met my gaze, there was something new in his eyes.
Not dominance.
Not curiosity.
Respect.
"Nothing lethal," he said finally.
I exhaled shakily.
"But," he continued, "you altered space."
My chest tightened.
"I… what?"
He pointed behind me.
I turned.
The wall I had been stuck to…
…wasn't flat anymore.
Three perfect handprints were pressed into it.
Deep.
Smooth-edged.
Not like punches.
Not like force.
More like the wall had softened around my hands — like space had warped under my touch.
My hands shook uncontrollably.
"I didn't… I didn't mean to—"
He cut me off.
"You didn't do it consciously. That's the only reason you're still alive."
I swallowed hard, throat burning.
"What happened to you?"
He glanced at his crushed hand.
"You grabbed me."
"I— I didn't even see you—"
"You didn't," he said simply. "You weren't looking with your eyes."
Something cold slid down my spine.
"What does that mean?"
He took a long breath, the first calm breath since waking up.
"It means," he said, "that whatever is inside you isn't waking up…"
He stepped closer.
"…it's remembering what it used to be."
I stared at him.
At my hands.
At the warped wall.
And the humming inside my chest grew louder, like it agreed.
For the first time since this began—
I felt it clearly.
Not fear.
Not instinct.
Not adrenaline.
Presence.
I wasn't alone in my own body.
And the worst part?
It wasn't hostile.
It felt familiar.
Like something that knew me long before I knew myself.
The stranger watched my expression change. His eyes softened — barely.
"You're not safe," he said.
I stepped back.
"From you?"
He shook his head once.
"From the others."
"What others?"
He didn't blink.
"The ones who think the thing inside you belongs to them."
The humming inside me pulsed once.
Hard.
Like it understood.
Like it reacted.
The stranger exhaled slowly.
"Arin…"
He spoke my name like a warning.
"…we need to move before they arrive."
I swallowed.
"Who's coming?"
He didn't look at me when he answered.
"The ones who were hunting you long before tonight."
The humming inside me stopped.
Just for a beat.
And that silence was somehow worse.