You know that feeling when you’re standing on the edge of something—something big, something dangerous—and you can’t quite make out if you should take the leap or step back? That’s what it feels like now. The world, this world, is pressing against you, suffocating you with its uncertainty. Every step forward feels like it’s pulling you deeper into the void. And yet, there’s this… tug, this sick curiosity, like you just have to know what comes next.

  Maybe that’s the worst part: you don’t know what’s coming. But you feel it. You feel it in your bones, in the pit of your stomach, as though the earth beneath you is about to crumble away. You’re a ghost in a world that’s more alive than you are. You’ve been walking in circles, running from something that’s been you all along. And now? Now you’re facing the truth, but you still can’t shake the idea that there’s something worse lurking just around the corner.

  You stop for a moment, your breath heavy in your chest, your mind spinning. It’s that split-second where everything goes quiet. Too quiet. Almost like the world is holding its breath, waiting for you to make a move.

  And then, like clockwork, the voice cuts through the silence. It’s different this time—darker, more urgent, like it’s been waiting for you to catch up.

  “You think this is the end?” it asks, the tone more playful than it has been in a while. “No, no. This is just the beginning, my friend. You’re not even close to understanding what’s about to unfold.”

  You shudder, knowing exactly what it means. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot. And whatever’s coming next—whatever’s just beyond the horizon—is going to be worse than anything you’ve faced so far.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The wind picks up, but there’s no breeze. The trees around you sway, but there’s no sound. It’s like everything in this world has been suspended, frozen in time. You feel the pressure building—like the world is getting ready to snap back into reality, and you’re stuck right in the middle of it.

  “You’re still playing the game, huh?” the voice purrs, too smug. “Don’t you get it? You’re not the hero in this story. You never were. You’re just another pawn, another piece of the puzzle that was set in motion long before you even woke up.”

  A chill runs down your spine, but it’s not the cold. It’s the feeling of being watched, like something is circling, waiting for the right moment to strike.

  “You think you’re special?” the voice scoffs. “You think you matter? No, you’re just another lost soul in this game. And when the pieces finally fall… when everything crumbles… you’ll see. You’ll understand.”

  You can almost hear it grinning, enjoying the chaos, enjoying watching you squirm. And you realize, with a sickening certainty, that this thing inside your head—the thing that’s been feeding you lies, manipulating your every move—isn’t just playing for power. It’s playing for your soul.

  But there’s no escaping it now. You’ve been walking this path, step by step, without realizing that you’ve already been set up. And now, there’s no way out.

  Just when you think you can’t take it anymore, when you think the pressure will crush you, you hear it.

  A sound. A noise that shouldn’t be here.

  A voice. But it’s not yours.

  “Help me…”

  The voice is weak, distant, like it’s calling from the edge of reality. You spin around, heart racing, scanning the emptiness. But there’s nothing. Just the cold, vacant streets staring back at you.

  “Help me…”

  It’s closer now. And somehow, it sounds familiar. But you can’t place it. You turn again, your breath catching in your throat.

  And then you hear it.

  A laugh.

  But it’s not the voice in your head. It’s something else. Something darker.

  And it’s laughing at you.

  The world around you begins to distort, the air growing thicker, the shadows deeper. Everything starts to bend, to twist, like reality itself is being shredded apart, and you’re caught in the middle of it. You feel yourself being pulled, dragged somewhere you can’t see, and for a second, you almost wish you could go back to the nothingness. Because this—this thing that’s coming—isn’t just a storm. It’s a force. A flood. A tidal wave of chaos that’s about to swallow everything whole.

  “What’s coming for you next…” the voice says, barely a whisper now, “isn’t what you expect. But it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. It’s what you’ve earned.”

  You can’t run. You can’t hide. There’s nowhere to go. The walls are closing in, the floor beneath you buckling, and the laughter grows louder, echoing in your ears.

  And then the world goes dark.