Chapter Two -
Ren saw it moving toward him.
He turned and ran.
Finally—finally—his legs obeyed. His sneakers slapped against the pavement, arms pumping, lungs burning. The empty crossing stretched ahead like a promise of escape.
But his mind was screaming. Panicking. Because even as he ran, he could feel it—his legs weren't moving fast enough. They felt sluggish, dream-slow, like running through water.
The Echo closed the distance as if Ren were standing still.
No—
Cold fingers wrapped around his spine. The Echo's hand shot forward, impossibly fast.
Ren felt it pierce his chest.
Not pain. Worse than pain. Wrongness. A violation so deep it didn't have a name. He looked down, gasping.
A hole. In his chest. Made of nothing. Made of absence.
Dark energy poured out like smoke from a wound, wisping into the air. The Echo's form solidified slightly as it drank, its distorted shape growing more defined with each pull.
His root state. It was draining his root state.
Ren's knees buckled. The world tilted sideways, colors bleeding at the edges. Every breath felt thinner than the last, his body growing lighter, like he was evaporating into mist. His thoughts scattered.
Weak. So weak. Can't... can't even...
The Echo pulled harder.
Ren crumpled to the ground. His vision blurred. The asphalt was cold against his cheek. Above him, the creature loomed, featureless and hungry, drinking him dry.
I'm dying.
The thought cut through the fog with terrible clarity.
This is it. Alone. Empty street. No one coming. Just like I always...
No.
Something flared deep in his chest—not where the Echo was feeding, but deeper. Hotter. A spark of pure, desperate rage.
No. Not like this.
His hand twitched. His fingers scraped against pavement.
I have to do something.
But what? What could he do when he could barely breathe, when his body was fading, when the darkness was creeping in from all sides?
Anything. Something. MOVE.