We left the square behind, but the shadows on the walls followed us in my mind.
Every turn seemed sharper here, the streets bending in ways that should have led us back but never did. I kept glancing up, hoping for sky, but there was nothing above us except that endless black ceiling, cracked with faint, pale light.
The boy clung to my arm. He didn't speak anymore. His silence pressed heavier than his weight.
The woman slowed as we passed another row of buildings. Her head tilted, her breath catching. I followed her gaze—
A window.
For an instant, I thought it was only shadow. But shadows didn't lean. Didn't stretch long and thin, pressed against the frame as though straining to see.
It pulled back when my eyes fixed on it.
I stopped breathing.
The woman's whisper cut the air like a blade: "Keep walking."
We did. Our footsteps echoed in uneven rhythm, too loud against the silence. I tried not to look again, but the weight of unseen eyes made it impossible. Every window we passed held the threat of something just beyond the glass.
The next window was cracked. A faint sound came from it—like fingers brushing the inside of the pane. Not tapping. Searching.
When I looked closer, there was only the faint outline of a hand, pressed flat against the glass from the inside. Its fingers were too long. The glass shivered as though it were breathing.
Shapes shifted.
Not small, not hunched like the creatures in the tunnels. These were tall, skeletal, their heads bent sideways against the windowframes, too long for the space they tried to fit in.
Watching. Always watching.
The boy finally spoke, his voice trembling:
"They're waiting."
I pulled him closer. My throat felt raw. "For what?"
He didn't answer. Maybe he didn't know. Maybe he did, and the words wouldn't come.
The woman's steps quickened. Her knuckles were white around her weapon, though she didn't raise it. Even she knew a fight here wasn't one we could survive.
The hiss threaded through the streets again, louder now, weaving between the buildings like breath drawn sharp between teeth.
A faint crack sounded behind us. I turned—one of the windows we'd passed now hung open. Just a sliver. Just enough for the air to move differently.
The city was changing.
I risked one last glance at the windows.
Every figure had vanished.
The emptiness was worse.