Couldn't sleep right after what we saw.
Every time I shut my eyes, that shape kept gliding past again—too smooth, too wrong, too quiet. I wanted to file it away as just another weird thing in a city made of them, but it had gotten into my blood. Sat there in my head like a splinter I couldn't reach.
The next day wasn't much brighter. Gray sky again, clouds swollen and lazy. I didn't bother with breakfast. Nothing tasted like anything when your stomach was busy knotting itself. My boots felt heavier than usual when I pulled them on. It wasn't the leather. It was… everything.
At the corner by the tea stall, I half-hoped I'd see Liora already there. Sometimes she shows early. Sometimes she vanishes for half a day without warning. She wasn't there this time. Only the smell of overboiled chai and the clinking of cups. The stall owner nodded at me like I was part of the scenery.
By the time she appeared, the city had already started its daily shuffle — carts creaking, stray dogs sniffing trash, voices rolling low over market stalls. Liora's hair was damp from the fog, jacket zipped tight. She didn't waste words.
"You want to check the gate again?" she asked.
I should have said no. I wanted to say no. But what came out was, "Yeah."
The way there wasn't far, but it felt like walking into the mouth of something. Side streets were quieter than usual. Even the grocers arguing over prices did it half-heartedly, like they were saving their energy for some other fight later.
Halfway down Old Market stretch, a shadow ran across our feet — turned out to be a stray cat with a limp. Liora bent down like she might call it over, but it was gone before she spoke.
Jahan spotted us near the fork in the road. He didn't run this time. Didn't fiddle with his badge either. Just said, "You should be careful. The fog's worse today. People say they hear breathing on the other side of the bars."
"Breathing?" Liora asked, one eyebrow pulling up.
He nodded, quick like he didn't want to stay in the conversation. "Slow. Heavy. Like something that knows you're there." And then, just like yesterday, he slipped away before we could pull more out of him.The closer we got to the south gate, the wetter the air felt. My skin started to tack with cold sweat. The mist swirled low across the cobblestones like smoke that didn't know it should rise.
The gate's metal spine still jutted awkward — all that twisted iron looked like a rib cage that'd lost whatever heart it was built to protect. And I swear, I could hear it:
that slow inhale, slow exhale Jahan had warned about. Faint, but there.
Liora motioned for me to stop just shy of the bars. The breathing went still, like it knew we were listening.
I held my scythe tighter, let the edge rest just above the ground. My shoulders ached from tensing up so early.
Then it came — not from my eyes, but from the corner of them — movement again. The same shape as yesterday. Long. Thin. Floating more than walking. You couldn't follow it straight-on;
it refused to be seen directly, like the dark itself was pushing it away from your gaze.
It didn't stop this time.
The shape slid closer to the bars. I could see edges, sharper now but still impossible. A ripple ran through the fog around it, bending the air. And underneath it — low, guttural — a rumble.
The rumble became a growl.
I didn't think. I stepped forward till my boots touched the gate's base. Liora hissed my name but didn't stop me. The scythe warmed in my grip — not glowing, not shaking, just warm like it had made a decision on my behalf.
The growl cut short and the shape lunged.
I got the blade up just in time for the first impact. It slammed the bars hard enough that the whole frame groaned. Fog exploded outward. My teeth rattled.
The thing's face — if it was a face — was angles stacked wrong. Too many shadows carved inside what should have been its eyes. A jaw set wider than it ought to, teeth catching what weak light there was.It didn't claw. It pushed. It wanted through.
Liora was suddenly there beside me, knife in one hand, the bent tip of an old spear in the other. She jabbed at the space where the thing's shoulder should've been. The rippling air hissed, but didn't tear.
I swung again, this time sideways, aiming for where the neck met the rest. The blade skidded, like hitting stone slick with oil. My arms howled at me to stop — I didn't.
"Back!" Liora yelled.
We fell back a few paces as it slammed into the bars again. A thin scream tore through the fog — not loud, but sharp enough to rip into my ears. It sounded like metal being pulled apart and animal throat all at once.
Then it stopped moving.
The breathing came back, slower again. Deliberate. Like it was mocking us. And then it slid back into the mist until there was nothing at all but the cold air between us.
We didn't speak right away. My chest was still trying to figure out who'd won the argument — my lungs or my heart. Liora kept her eyes on the space where it vanished.
"It tested the gate," she said finally.
I nodded. "Testing for what?"She shook her head, set her hands on her hips. "For how much longer it'll hold."
The metal groaned once, as if agreeing.
We made our way back into the more crowded streets, but the noise felt fake now — as if everyone else was performing being alive so the city didn't notice the rot. Even the colors looked thin.
A fruit seller called out half-price offers;
no one stopped. Two men pretended to bargain over a crate of wiring, both shaking their heads too much. A dog barked at an empty doorway until the owner dragged it away.
I kept glancing over my shoulder, catching fog in the distance.
We ended up at the old mural again, like our feet knew the way without us planning it. The bruised moon looked worse in the overcast light. Paint chipped off in uneven flakes.
Liora reached out the way she had yesterday, just brushing fingertips over the edge. She didn't look at me.
"I think it's getting closer," I said.
"I think it's already here," she answered.
And that was the end of that talk.
We stayed there long enough for the air to shift into evening. Lanterns flared on, one by one, throwing little circles of gold on the cobbles. People moved quicker now, not eager to be the last ones in the open.Liora finally turned to me. "Tomorrow, we go inside the gate."
It wasn't a question. It wasn't even a plan, not really. More like a sentence waiting to be carried out.
Inside the gate meant crossing into the space the thing lived in. Meant seeing not just its shadow, but the whole of it. Meant maybe not coming back.
I nodded anyway.
We walked home separately this time, both taking different turns. I think we both wanted the quiet. The streets nearer my place were thin with light. Every sound felt like it belonged to something I couldn't see. My key stuck in the lock once before it turned. I shut the door and stood there in the small dark for a while.
I tried to picture what tomorrow would look like. Tried to imagine us stepping through those twisted bars into its fog. The thought felt like ice lining my ribs.
Still… the idea of not going felt worse.If cracks need sealing, someone has to try.
If a gate's going to fall, someone has to be standing there.
Maybe that's what's next. Maybe that's all there is.
To be continued…