Han Islat didn't remember the last time he ran.
Maybe before the world ended.
Maybe before the silence.
Maybe before the sky cracked like broken glass.
But now—
he ran.
The boy dragged him through an alley between two collapsed buildings, their jagged edges leaning inward like they wanted to swallow the pair whole. Behind them, the creature stepped onto the street.
Not fast.
Not slow.
Just inevitable.
Reality bent as it moved.
The air thickened.
The shadows grew longer.
And the broken door behind it dissolved into white dust, as if its purpose was finished.
Han glanced back.
The creature's countless black eyes were all fixed on him.
Not on the boy.
Him.
The boy pulled harder. "Don't look! Just move!"
They stumbled over debris—bent street signs, shattered glass, abandoned bags, a single shoe lying in the dirt. The city felt more dead than ever. No lights. No cars. No animals. Even the wind sounded hollow, like the world was mimicking sound without understanding it.
"Left!" the boy shouted.
They ducked into a narrow passageway, squeezing through a collapsed fence and emerging into a courtyard between tall apartment blocks.
The boy released his grip and collapsed onto the ground, panting.
Han remained standing.
His breathing was steady.
Too steady.
The boy noticed.
He looked up, eyes narrowing. "You… you're not normal, are you?"
Han ignored the question, scanning the open space. "Is it still following?"
"No." The boy shook his head quickly. "It can't cross these walls. This district is sealed."
"Sealed by what?"
The boy hesitated. "…by the same thing that killed everything else."
Han didn't respond.
He didn't have answers.
But he had questions—thousands of them—pressing against his skull.
The boy wiped sweat from his brow with a trembling hand. His hair was messy, his face pale and thin. One knee was bleeding, but he didn't seem to care.
Han crouched slightly, observing him.
"You're human."
The boy let out a breathless laugh. "Yes, I'm human. What did you expect? A ghost?"
Han didn't answer.
Because a moment ago, when he touched the door, he did see something like a ghost.
Something that tried to replace him with a version of himself that didn't belong anywhere.
The boy seemed to realize something. "Wait… have you been alone this whole time?"
Han nodded once.
The boy stared at him, mouth falling open. "Then you really don't know anything…"
He looked around nervously, as if expecting something else to appear.
"My name's Eshar," he said finally. "I've been hiding here for… I don't know how long. Time doesn't work right anymore."
Han tilted his head. "Doesn't work?"
"Yeah." Eshar stood, brushing dirt from his pants. "Days look like nights. Nights look like mornings. Clocks stopped. Shadows move wrong. The sky cracks sometimes, and… things come out."
The boy's voice trembled on the last sentence.
Han didn't blame him.
"What was that creature?" Han asked quietly.
Eshar shivered. "A Stray. That's what we call them. They walk out of doors that shouldn't exist. They hunt by… feeling your existence. Like scent, but… not scent."
Stray.
A word that didn't fit.
Too gentle for something so wrong.
Eshar continued, voice lowering. "They aren't the worst. Some are bigger. Some float. Some don't even have shapes. But the one just now—"
He stopped.
Han waited.
Eshar swallowed hard. "…that was a Crownless."
The air seemed to tighten around them.
Han felt the name settle into the world like a cold weight.
Crownless.
A creature that looked like its head wore a crown of bone.
A being that tried to drag him somewhere else.
Somewhere he didn't belong.
Han's fingers clenched slightly.
"What does it want?"
Eshar shook his head. "No one knows. But survivors say something terrifying."
He took a shaky breath.
"They say Crownless don't kill you. They replace you."
Han's heartbeat echoed faintly in his ears.
Replace.
Like the distorted reflection in the door.
Like the warmth turning cold.
Like the command—
Return.
Eshar quickly changed the subject. "Anyway… you're lucky I found you. Most people don't make it long out here. Come on. There's a safe place nearby. I'll take you."
Han didn't move.
Safe place.
The words felt foreign in this world.
But he nodded.
Eshar led him between the buildings, down another broken street. A toppled power line buzzed weakly as they walked past, sparks flickering with unnatural blue light.
The boy kept glancing back at Han, as if trying to understand him.
Finally, he asked, "What's your name?"
"…Han Islat."
Eshar blinked. "Weird name."
Han didn't respond.
They reached a building that looked almost intact—windows shattered but walls stable. It was a school. A large one. Faded letters on the gate read:
SEORA ACADEMY — MAIN CAMPUS
Eshar pushed the gate open quietly.
Han followed him inside.
But as they stepped through the entrance, Han suddenly stopped.
Eshar looked back. "What? Why're you—"
Han raised a hand, silencing him.
His senses prickled.
Not danger.
Not a creature.
But something else.
A presence.
A feeling that something was watching them.
Eshar swallowed. "You sense it too?"
Han nodded slowly.
At the end of the hallway—
in the darkness—
a faint red light flickered.
Not harmful.
Not cold.
Something familiar.
Eshar whispered, voice cracking:
"…That's why this school is safe."
Han turned toward him.
Eshar's next words were soft, trembling with fear and awe.
"Because someone else lives here."