The Mouthling roars, and every instinct I have screams: Run.
So I do.
The ground ripples under my feet as I sprint back toward the corridor. The arms tear free from the walls, clawing at me with inhuman speed. One grabs my hoodie — I wrench free, leaving a chunk of fabric behind.
The Mouthling doesn't walk. It slides, its mass dragging across the ichor pool like a living tidal wave of flesh and teeth.
"Oh hell no," I mutter, clutching the fragment tighter.
Move, Kael.
---
The corridor ahead is closing. Literally.
The living walls are folding inward, sealing off my escape.
"Are you seeing this?!" I yell at Scribe.
"Of course. The Maw doesn't let prey leave willingly."
"Any helpful tips?!"
"Don't die."
"SO USEFUL!"
---
The walls slam shut in front of me.
No way forward. No way back. The Mouthling closes in, screeching with its dozen mouths.
This is it. This is where I die. Again.
And then it happens.
The itching in my glowing palm spreads through my whole body — electric, burning, overwhelming. The world slows again, like when I fought the Devourer.
But this time… it's different.
I can feel the walls.
Not just see them. Feel them — like they're part of me.
Glitch.
---
The thought isn't mine. It's like someone whispering directly into my head.
I raise my glowing hand.
And the walls stop moving.
The corridor freezes, mid-seal.
The Mouthling stops too, thrashing like it's caught in invisible chains.
Scribe sounds almost impressed. "Well. That's new."
"What… did I just do?" I gasp.
"Override," it says. "A Glitch's privilege. You bent the City to your will. Temporarily."
The strain is unbearable. My hand feels like it's on fire. The Mouthling roars, fighting against whatever I'm doing.
"I can't hold it!" I shout.
"Then stop holding. Move!"
---
I release the walls. They snap back violently — but I'm already sprinting through the gap, faster than I should be able to.
The Mouthling howls behind me, the sound rattling my bones.
I don't look back.
I just run.
---
By the time I collapse in the next chamber, I'm shaking, drenched in sweat, my glowing palm dimming.
Scribe floats above me, calm as ever. "You lived. Again. Impressive."
I laugh weakly. "I hate this job."
"Welcome to Afterlife employment," it says.
I stare at the fragment in my hand. It's still glowing, pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
"Was that… a soul?" I ask.
"Yes," Scribe says. "And now it's yours to deliver. But Kael—"
"What?"
It floats closer. "The Maw won't forget you."