Saesburg glittered beneath sheets of neon and salt-laced wind, alive with traffic and distant waves.

  High above the noise, in a glass tower near the city's heart, there was silence.

  Not the absence of sound.

  Rather, the absence of disturbance.

  A woman sat alone in a dim office, legs crossed, fingers resting lightly on her knees. The lights were off. The only illumination came from the city bleeding through the windows... and from her hair, faintly aglow in dull silver strands.

  She wasn't asleep.

  No.

  She was listening.

  The frequencies of life were background noise, faint ripples in the air. Predictable. Stable.

  Then--

  A flare.

  Unstable.

  Wild.

  Familiar.

  Her eyes opened.

  Silver sharpened within them.

  "Oh," she murmured, not surprised. "That's a familiar one... How unusual."

  "Adrian."

  She didn't raise her voice.

  A young man, around twenty, stepped out of the shadows with his hands in his pockets and a lollipop in his mouth. "You called."

  "We have a disturbance."

  "What are your orders?"

  "Watch," she said. "And wait until there is a need to step in."

  Dominic woke to the shrill cry of his alarm.

  The sun hadn't risen yet.

  He had no idea when he had fallen asleep.

  But he had.

  His body felt like it had been run over.

  How ironic.

  He pushed himself upright with a wince. The fever had dulled, but not vanished. His right arm throbbed. His ribs protested with every breath.

  He would need painkillers just to function.

  Last night felt unreal.

  It would have been easy to call it a dream if not for the faint smell of burnt plastic lingering in the air.

  He dragged himself to the bathroom and stared at his reflection.

  His skin was duller than usual. His eyes were too glossy and bright.

  "I look like I'm dying," he muttered.

  He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the headache pulsing behind his eyes.

  What the hell was last night?

  He remembered the fire.

  The car.

  The heat is tearing out of him.

  After disposing of the melted plastic in the kitchen and shoving the groceries aside, he had sat down to think and apparently passed out cold.

  At least nothing else had caught fire.

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  He stepped into the shower and turned the handle.

  Cold water cascaded over him.

  For a moment, the heat under his skin recoiled.

  Like a flame being forced back into embers.

  His cold bath quickly turned into a hot shower with steam filling the bathroom.

  He sighed, took a quick bath and got out of the bathroom.

  "Is this going to happen randomly?" he asked in a bit of annoyance. It's fairly inconvenient.

  Fortunately, nothing was set ablaze, and he was able to leave for work early.

  Once he stepped out of the apartment building and took a deep breath, his ribs protested at that action. "I should go to the hospital after work," he said to himself.

  As he walked to the bus stop and saw the car from last night was still there. He walked towards the car, holding his breath. "Wow," he whispered when he got a closer look. The hood of the car had melted and cooled down.

  The air around him stood still, and Dominic became uneasy, as if he was being watched. He nearly jumped out of his skin when a voice spoke behind him.

  "That's quite the damage."

  He turned sharply to the left, his heart lurching.

  There hadn't been anyone there a second ago.

  At least, no one he had noticed.

  Now, a young man stood a few steps away, hands tucked neatly into the pockets of a tailored coat. A lollipop rested between his lips, the stick angled to one side.

  He looked... deliberate.

  Well-groomed. Calm. Polite.

  Too composed for a place like this.

  And Dominic would have sworn the sidewalk was empty.

  He didn't belong here.

  He remained where he was, a respectful distance away. "Forgive the intrusion," he said, turning slightly to face him.

  Who wears sunglasses at 5? He stared at the stranger. I don't know why... I feel like my fever's reduced.

  "It's rude to stare," the stranger said in an amused tone. "See something you like?"

  Dominic's face scrunched in embarrassment. Was I staring that hard?! "Sorry," he apologised. I should get going...

  He turns away. No questions. No conversation.

  He walks off toward the bus stop, and behind him--

  Silence lingers for three steps.

  Four.

  Then--

  A soft chuckle.

  Low. Pleased.

  "How fascinating."

  Dominic glanced back, but there was no one there.

  The street was empty, the stranger was just a fragment of his imagination/

  Dominic felt a shiver run down his spine. "Nope, nope..." he muttered as he ran. "I'm not going to die today."

  He got to the bus stop and nervously waited for the bus to arrive. His unease grew, as if he were being watched intensely.

  The bus arrived shortly, and he boarded it. Again, there weren't a lot of people, and he sat in the back with his earphones on. He rested his head against the window and began to scroll on social media. This is a weird morning...

  The day should have gone as usual. But his conditions had other plans.

  Tools heated under his grip. Metals softened where his fingers lingered. In a metal refinery, that might have been useful; on a construction site, not so much.

  Fortunately, his coworkers and supervisor didn't seem to notice the warped rebar or the scorch marks on the handles. Unfortunately, they noticed him.

  After yesterday's 'accident', extra eyes followed him everywhere. Refusing the hospital and refusing to take a break--that kind of stubbornness raised several red flags.

  By midday, the heat inside him had built to a roar. No sweat came. Summer in Saesuburg usually meant shirts drenched in sweat, not being slowly burned alive.

  He stripped off the hoodie and undershirt, grabbed a cold water bottle from the cooler, and dumped it over his head. Steam hissed off his scalp as he crouched under a scarp of tarp, panting.

  His supervisor approached, boots crunching gravel.

  "Dominic. A word."

  "Sure." He stood, water dripping down his back. "What's up?"

  "Listen." The supervisor crossed his arms. "You said you were okay yesterday."

  "I'm alright," Dominic calmly said.

  "Really?" Eyebrow raised. "You're struggling to breathe, your right hand barely works, and you just poured water on your head like you're in a heat wave--"

  "It is hot," Dominic muttered.

  "That's not the point! You're a liability right now. You think you're helping, but you're not."

  I didn't think I was helping. I thought I was working.

  "Am I getting paid for the hours I've done?" Dominic asked, voice flat.

  His supervisor scoffed. "You barely--"

  "I had a workplace accident. Got injured. And with no pay for my hospital bills or meds, my supervisor, you, sent me home, not paying for a complete day's work. I'm sure the news--and a few clout-chasing, kind-hearted influencers--would love the details."

  The supervisor's jaw tightened. "You wouldn't."

  "Respectfully, sir, I came to work to get paid, not for charity... You don't have to pay me for the whole day, just the total number of hours I've worked."

  A long silence. Then: "You'll have your complete paycheck by the end of the day."

  "Alright."

  Dominic walked off the site without hesitation. Full pay secured, and the job will probably be gone by Monday once the supervisor cooks up a performance excuse.

  "What's the point of sending me home when we close in thirty minutes?" he muttered.

  He sighed. The heat pressed down harder.

  His phone buzzed.

  Unknown number.

  The digits are comprised of ones and zeros. Unease coiled in his guts, sharper than this morning's encounter.

  He stared at the screen and let it ring out.

  It rang again. And again. Three times total.

  "Doesn't this person know how to quit?" He powered off the phone.

  Finally.

  No scammer kept calling after three tries. The government might... but they'd send mail, not harass.

  What if somthing happend back home--?

  He snorted at himself. "As if they'd call..."

  The bus was late. He stood, restless.

  The phone vibrated in his pocket--powered off.

  He froze. Didn't I turn it off--?

  He pulled it out.

  Same number.

  The screen glitched: a pair of hollow eyes appeared in the middle of the static.

  He heard a scratchy voice. "Got you."

  Time stuttered.

  The air thickened. Sounds layered, distant horns, footsteps against concrete, his own heartbeat. Each one is separate and unnaturally clear.

  "What the--"

  The world became quiet.

  He spun around, but there was no one present.

  Almost like everyone disappeared.

  He doesn't know what's happening.

  He's asked that question a lot lately.

  And having no answers is starting to feel worse than any answer could be.