Shifting Pieces

Cipher's breaths came in short, uneven gasps as he pressed himself against the cold metal of a fire escape. The city pulsed below, oblivious to the sheer madness that had begun unraveling around him. His phone buzzed again in his grip, another message flashing across the cracked screen.

Unknown Number: Keep moving. You're not alone.

He swallowed hard. Not alone. That could mean anything. Did they mean allies? Or was something else closing in?

His muscles screamed from the sprint, but adrenaline kept him upright. He risked a glance over the ledge, scanning the streets below. Neon signs reflected off puddles on the pavement. A couple laughed as they passed a dimly lit alley, utterly unaware that reality itself had started to tear at the edges.

Cipher had always been able to think fast, to adapt. But this was something else entirely. He had no control over what was happening—no way to explain it, no way to predict what would come next.

He gritted his teeth and forced his mind to slow down. There had to be a pattern, a logic to this madness. The distortion, the messages, the shadowed figure that had watched him—these weren't random events.

His phone buzzed again. Another message.

Unknown Number: They see you.

Cipher's pulse spiked. His head snapped up. The streetlights flickered in sync, an unnatural ripple spreading down the block like a wave. Shadows stretched unnaturally, elongating into shapes that didn't belong. Figures—half-formed, flickering between existence and absence—stood just beyond the reach of the light.

Cipher clenched his fists. His instincts screamed at him to run, but his mind fought against the panic. No. Not this time. He needed to understand what was happening. He needed to face it.

He gripped the railing and dropped down to the street, his sneakers slapping against wet pavement. The figures did not move, yet their presence pressed against him like an unseen force.

Slowly, Cipher took a step forward.

"Who are you?" he demanded, his voice steady despite the dread curling in his stomach.

No answer.

The air grew heavy, thick with something unseen. It was like the static before a storm, crackling with anticipation.

Cipher took another step. "You sent the messages, didn't you?"

Still, nothing.

His patience thinned. "You wanted me to see. Well, here I am."

The moment stretched, the silence unbearable.

Then, the figures shifted.

Not moved—shifted. Their outlines bent, flickered, like a glitch in a broken screen. And then, without warning, they collapsed into themselves—like ink bleeding into water, dissolving into nothingness.

Cipher exhaled sharply. His body was taut, every muscle poised for an attack that never came. The street was empty again, save for the hum of the city.

His phone buzzed. He checked the screen, expecting another cryptic warning.

But this time, it wasn't the unknown number.

It was a new message from someone in his contacts.

Nova: You need to come back. Now.

Cipher's chest tightened. Nova. He hadn't spoken to her in weeks. Not since things had started falling apart.

His fingers hovered over the screen before he typed back.

Cipher: Where are you?

The reply was instant.

Nova: The old lab. Don't be seen.

Cipher's grip tightened around his phone. The lab. Of course. That's where it had all started.

He turned on his heel, forcing his feet into motion. Whatever was happening, whatever he had stumbled into, he wasn't in it alone.

And if Nova had answers, he was going to get them.

The building loomed ahead, abandoned for years but never truly empty. Cipher slipped through a rusted side door, his breath steady despite the hammering in his chest.

The dim glow of a single monitor illuminated the space inside. And standing in front of it, her silhouette sharp against the blue light—Nova.

She turned as he stepped closer. "You're late," she said, her voice unreadable.

Cipher's lips twitched in a half-smile. "Had a few distractions."

She didn't return the expression. Instead, she gestured toward the screen. "I know what you saw," she said. "And I know why."

Cipher's breath caught. "Then start talking."

Nova hesitated. "It's worse than you think."

She turned back to the monitor, typing something rapidly. Lines of data scrolled past, unreadable to Cipher but clearly important to her. Finally, she stopped, stepping aside so he could see.

Cipher frowned. It was a map. Of the city. But something was wrong.

Sections of it were missing.

"Reality's breaking," Nova said quietly. "And it's not just you seeing it."

Cipher's jaw tightened. "Then who else?"

Nova met his gaze, her expression unreadable. "Everyone who's already disappeared."

A chill crawled down Cipher's spine. He looked back at the screen, at the missing parts of the city.

And in that moment, he understood.

Whatever this was—it wasn't just happening to him.

It was happening to the entire world.

And if they didn't figure out why, there wouldn't be a world left to save.