Beyond the Page

Ru's mind unraveled like a frayed nerve.

Before him, the Faceless twisted—not in flesh, but in perception, the void of its missing features warping into something worse: a swirling abyss that pulsed like a dying star. From its depths, a sphere of black energy erupted, spinning faster and faster—until the air itself screamed.

It was no longer a statue.

It was a face.

A face that was not a face—a grotesque, three-dimensional mockery of a creator, features melting and reforming with each rotation: a father's stern brow, a stranger's hollow cheeks, a god's lipless mouth.

The sphere hissed like steam on scorched stone: "My son."

Ru staggered back. His breath came in shards. The ash beneath him writhed, alive with the memory of fire.

"No. No. You're not him."