Residuals of the City

The motel room was suffocatingly still. The thin, yellowed curtains barely held back the morning light, casting long, jagged shadows across the cracked linoleum floor. Ethan sat on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. He hadn't slept since the dream—or whatever that had been. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the city's twisted skyline rising behind his eyelids, heard the whispers curling through his thoughts like smoke.

Across the room, Anna paced in slow, deliberate steps, her eyes flicking to Victoria every few moments. Victoria lay motionless on the bed, her skin pale against the motel's threadbare blankets, her breath shallow and uneven. The marks had faded from her skin, but the city's hold hadn't fully loosened. It clung to her like a shadow that refused to be shaken, lingering in the hollows of her cheeks and the tension in her jaw.

Ethan felt it too—the pulse. It wasn't just beneath his skin anymore. It was in his bones, in his thoughts, humming faintly in the back of his mind like a song he couldn't forget.

"We can't stay here," Anna said finally, breaking the oppressive silence. Her voice was hoarse, as if she'd been holding in words all night. She stopped pacing, her hands on her hips, eyes sharp as glass. "It's only a matter of time before it finds us again."

Ethan lifted his head, meeting her gaze. "Where do we go?" he asked, though the question felt hollow. There was no map for this, no safe haven from something that wasn't bound by geography.

Anna didn't answer immediately. She moved to the window, pulling back the curtain just enough to peer outside. The parking lot was empty, the world beyond the glass unnervingly quiet. But the stillness didn't bring comfort. It felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for something they couldn't see.

"There's someone I know," she said at last, her voice quieter now. "Someone who might know how to deal with… this." She gestured vaguely to the room, as if the city's presence clung to the air itself.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Someone who knows about the city?"

Anna nodded. "Not about the city, exactly. But about things like it." She turned from the window, her expression unreadable. "Things that don't belong."

Ethan didn't hesitate. "Then we find them."

They left the motel before the sun fully crested the horizon, Victoria bundled in the backseat of the truck, her fragile form barely stirring as the engine rumbled to life. The road stretched out before them, a ribbon of cracked asphalt cutting through the desolate landscape. The world felt too empty, as if the city's influence had bled further than they'd realized.

As they drove, Ethan found himself glancing in the rearview mirror more than once, half-expecting to see the city's skyline rising behind them, its impossible architecture twisting the horizon into something unrecognizable. But all he saw was the endless stretch of road, disappearing into the morning fog.

Hours passed in strained silence. The pulse hadn't faded—it had only grown stronger, resonating in Ethan's chest like a second heartbeat. He could see the tension in Anna's shoulders too, the way her hands gripped the dashboard when she thought he wasn't looking. They were both feeling it, that creeping sense that no matter how far they drove, they were still being pulled back.

Anna finally broke the silence. "We're almost there."

Ethan glanced at her, his voice low. "Where is there?"

Anna's jaw tightened. "An old contact from my time before… all this." She waved a hand vaguely, as if the words were too heavy to say. "Someone who deals in the supernatural. He's off the grid, but if anyone knows how to sever a connection like this, it's him."

Ethan didn't ask more. He could see in her eyes that whatever past she was pulling from wasn't something she wanted to relive. But he trusted her. He had to.

They arrived at a rundown farmhouse nestled deep in the woods, miles from the nearest town. The building sagged under the weight of time, its windows boarded, its roof missing shingles like a mouth missing teeth. But there was something about the place that felt… wrong. Not in the way the city had felt, but in a quieter, more insidious way, like the house itself was holding secrets just out of reach.

Anna killed the engine, her hands resting on the steering wheel for a moment before she spoke. "His name's Elias. He won't be happy to see me."

Ethan frowned. "Why?"

Anna shook her head. "Because I promised I'd never come back."

Without waiting for more explanation, she climbed out of the truck. Ethan followed, helping Victoria as best he could, though she was barely conscious, her skin cold despite the rising heat of the day. Together, they approached the farmhouse, the weight of the city's pulse heavy in the air around them.

Anna knocked once, hard. The sound echoed through the silent woods.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the rustle of wind through the trees. Then, the door creaked open, revealing a tall, gaunt man with sharp features and eyes that seemed to see through them.

"Anna," he said, his voice a low rasp. "I told you never to come back."

Anna didn't flinch. "And I told you I'd only come if it was something big." She gestured to Ethan and Victoria. "This is bigger than anything we've ever dealt with."

Elias's eyes flicked to Ethan, then to Victoria, lingering on her pale, trembling form. His expression didn't change, but Ethan saw the faintest flicker of recognition—or maybe fear—pass across his face.

"You brought the city with you," Elias whispered, his voice barely audible.

Ethan's stomach dropped. "You know about it?"

Elias nodded slowly. "I've heard its whispers. But I've never seen anyone come back from it." He stepped aside, gesturing them in. "Until now."

Inside, the farmhouse was a chaotic mix of old-world charm and occult paraphernalia. Books lined every surface, their spines cracked and worn, while strange symbols were etched into the wooden floors and walls. The air smelled of herbs and something metallic, like old blood.

Elias guided them to a large room at the back of the house, where a worn couch and a makeshift cot served as the only furniture. Ethan laid Victoria down gently, watching as Elias's sharp eyes scanned her, his fingers hovering just above her skin, as if afraid to touch her.

"She's still connected," Elias murmured. "The city's inside her, but it's… deeper than that. It's not just holding her. It's using her."

Ethan felt his heart clench. "Can you break the connection?"

Elias didn't answer immediately. He moved to a nearby table, rifling through a collection of ancient-looking tools and dusty vials. "Maybe," he said finally. "But it won't be easy. And it won't be clean."

Anna crossed her arms, her voice hard. "What do you mean?"

Elias turned, his eyes dark. "The city doesn't just take. It binds. If we cut her free, we risk unleashing whatever it's been holding back inside her."

Ethan glanced at Victoria, her face pale and still, her breath shallow. He didn't hesitate.

"Do it."

Elias nodded slowly. "Alright. But you need to understand—once we start, there's no going back. Whatever happens, you have to be ready."

Ethan's jaw tightened. "We've been ready."