The next morning, Arin returned to school, but the city's emptiness followed him like a shadow. Hallways that should have been bustling were eerily silent. Lockers stood open and empty, and the faint smell of disinfectant clung to the air.
He reached for his student ID, and froze. The plastic card that had carried his name and photograph for years now displayed nothing—no name, no face, only a blank rectangle.
Arin's fingers trembled. Every teacher he tried to call on seemed not to notice him. His classmates whispered amongst themselves, occasionally glancing in his direction but quickly looking away, their faces void of recognition.
Panic rose in his chest. This wasn't just a street sign disappearing, or his mother forgetting him. This was systematic, and the city itself seemed to be erasing its inhabitants from existence.
He spotted Mira near the school entrance. Her hair, falling like a curtain, partially hid her face, but her eyes locked onto his. For the first time that day, he felt a small measure of relief.
"You… you remember?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"I do," Arin said, and he reached out his hand. "We have to figure out what's happening before more people vanish."
As they moved through the hallways, the whispers began. Faint at first, then growing in volume, words twisting and warping until they were unintelligible. Shadows pooled at the edges of his vision, stretching unnaturally as if alive.
Arin realized that the city wasn't just erasing names. It was testing him, probing to see if he could hold on to his identity amidst the unraveling reality. If he failed, he too would become nothing.
He tightened his grip on Mira's hand. "Stay with me," he murmured. "We can't let the city take us… not yet."
A distant bell rang. Not from the school