The town was suffocating in silence.
Lukas walked alongside Felix, their footsteps barely making a sound against the damp cobblestones. The night pressed in around them, the fog shifting unnaturally, coiling through the streets like something alive.
He had followed without question, something in Felix's presence demanding attention, as if the man existed outside the strange rules of this place. The dim lanterns cast flickering pools of light, but it did little to push back the overwhelming sense of something watching.
Felix had yet to speak again.
Lukas studied him from the corner of his eye—the way he walked, his posture, the carefully measured steps that spoke of someone who was always aware of his surroundings.
Felix's clothing was too refined for a mere townsperson, his long coat tailored to fit his lean frame, the deep fabric catching in the wind. He carried himself like someone who had never known true hardship, but there was something in his sharp features, in the way his blue eyes flicked toward the shadows, that suggested otherwise.
He wasn't just a passerby.
Lukas knew instinctively that Felix understood the town's secrets, far more than he let on.
The silence stretched between them, thick and unspoken. Lukas's patience frayed.
"You said the town is being consumed."
Felix barely acknowledged him, his gaze still trained ahead. "Yes."
"How?" Lukas pressed. "By what?"
Felix sighed as if the question bored him. "If I gave you an answer, would you believe it?"
Lukas's jaw tightened. "Try me."
Felix finally stopped walking.
They stood at the edge of a deserted square, its fountain long dried, stone figures standing frozen beneath the haze of the lantern light.
Felix turned toward him, hands still resting in his coat pockets.
"This town," he said, "is already dead."
Lukas felt something cold wrap around his spine.
"What does that mean?"
Felix studied him, his piercing gaze weighing Lukas in ways that felt almost uncomfortable, as if searching for something hidden beneath his skin.
"Do you remember when you arrived here?"
Lukas frowned. "What?"
"This town," Felix continued, "has existed for years. The people live, the people work, the people die. But tell me, Lukas—do you remember the first day you arrived?"
Lukas's mind stuttered.
It was such a simple question—so simple it should have been meaningless.
Yet, as he reached for the answer, his memory collapsed in on itself.
He could recall his mother, his sister, their home, the streets.
But before that?
Before the fog?
Nothing.
A hollow space where there should have been memories.
Lukas felt his breath catch, a sense of something deeply wrong crawling under his skin.
Felix watched the realization dawn in his expression, lips curling slightly.
"There it is," he murmured.
Lukas took a step back. His fingers twitched, as if reaching for something unseen, something to ground him. "That—no, that's not—"
Felix's voice was calm. "You cannot remember what never existed."
Lukas clenched his fists. "That doesn't make sense."
Felix exhaled, the faintest trace of amusement flickering through his expression. "You're not asking the right questions."
Lukas gritted his teeth, his frustration boiling. "Then what should I be asking?"
Felix took a slow step forward, his presence somehow sharper in the surrounding mist.
"Not when you arrived."
His voice lowered, almost a whisper.
"When was the last time you left?"
The words hit Lukas like a blade.
The air turned heavy, the weight of realization pressing down on him like an unbearable force.
His mind reeled, scrambling for an answer.
The last time he had been beyond the town's borders.
The last time he had seen anything beyond the winding streets, the endless gray sky, the fog.
The answer never came.
Lukas's pulse pounded in his ears.
The town had no edges. No exit.
His breath came faster now, his vision narrowing. He hadn't left.
Not since—
His mind lurched.
Not since ever.
Felix watched him carefully, eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Good," he murmured. "Now you're starting to see."
Lukas staggered back, his pulse erratic. His world tilted.
He turned abruptly, scanning the buildings, the empty windows, the stillness of the world around him.
The town wasn't trapping them.
It was holding them.
As if they were meant to be here. As if they had never existed anywhere else.
Lukas's breathing turned shallow.
"What—what is this?"
Felix stepped past him, glancing toward the distant mist, his expression contemplative.
"This is only the beginning."
Lukas forced himself to steady. His fingers curled into fists. "If you know what's happening, then tell me."
Felix smiled faintly, but it didn't reach his eyes.
"Truth is dangerous, Lukas." He turned back, his voice softer now, almost mocking. "Are you sure you want it?"
Lukas stared him down.
Everything inside him screamed that ignorance was safer.
But he wasn't someone who could ignore what was right in front of him.
"I want to know," he said.
Felix studied him, as if weighing his resolve. Then he sighed, running a hand through his golden-brown hair.
"Fine," he muttered. "But don't say I didn't warn you."
He reached into his coat, pulling out something small and folded.
A piece of paper.
Felix handed it to him.
Lukas took it, his fingers brushing against the worn surface. It felt… old. The ink slightly smudged, the edges frayed.
His stomach twisted as he unfolded it.
A list.
Names.
At least twenty of them, all written in the same sharp, careful script.
Lukas's eyes scanned down—until he reached the last name.
His breath stopped.
His own name was there.
Lukas Hartmann.
His fingers tightened around the page.
Slowly, he looked back up at Felix.
The man's blue eyes were unreadable, but Lukas could feel the weight of his gaze.
"What does this mean?" Lukas's voice came out quieter than he intended.
Felix's smirk returned, but this time it was almost grim.
"It means," he said, "that you were never supposed to be here."