Chapter 19 – "Fractured Reflections"

Riven doesn't sleep.

He spends the night staring at the ceiling, his body still but his mind racing, trapped between two conflicting truths—one that tells him this world is real, and one that whispers the undeniable fact that it isn't.

Something is watching him. He can feel it in the weight of the silence, in the way the shadows stretch just a little too far, in the way the room feels too perfect, too constructed. His every breath feels like a disruption, like an intruder inside a machine that isn't meant to have flaws.

The cracks are growing. He sees them in the way time stutters, in the flicker of a streetlight outside that blinks out of sync with the rhythm of the night, in the brief but unmistakable way Emery's face seemed to lag when she turned toward him earlier.

They're watching.

And they know he sees it.

---

By morning, he can't take it anymore.

The air inside the apartment feels suffocating, pressing against him like an unseen force trying to smooth out the edges of his defiance. Emery hums in the kitchen, the same tune she always does, her movements identical to yesterday, to the day before, to every single morning that came before.

A perfect loop.

Riven stands abruptly, grabbing his coat. He needs air.

Emery's voice calls after him, gentle and patient. "Riven? Where are you going?"

He hesitates. There's a part of him that doesn't want to answer—doesn't want to break whatever fragile equilibrium is keeping this illusion intact.

"Just for a walk," he mutters.

She smiles, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "Be safe."

The way she says it makes his stomach twist.

Like she already knows he won't be.

---

The streets are too clean. Too orderly.

People pass by in a mechanical rhythm, their footsteps falling in sync with an invisible metronome. There's no tension, no unpredictability, no mistakes.

It's wrong.

His feet carry him without direction, his mind too tangled in the overwhelming sensation that something is closing in. He rounds a corner, his breath uneven, and then—

The city glitches.

It happens so fast, so violently, that it nearly knocks the air from his lungs. The entire street shudders, like a ripple through reality, like a film reel catching on a broken frame.

For a fraction of a second, the world peels away.

Buildings flicker—glimpses of something older, darker, a city beneath the city. The sky above twists, revealing a vast, unending void where the stars should be.

And the people—

They aren't people.

Riven staggers back, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. The pedestrians around him freeze mid-step, their faces distorting, bodies stretching into grotesque, hollowed-out figures, their eyes nothing but empty voids.

It's a moment. Just a moment.

Then—snap.

Everything returns to normal.

The buildings, the people, the sky—all back in place, as if nothing happened. But Riven felt it. He saw it.

And someone else did too.

A figure stands at the end of the street, just beyond the reach of the morning light. They don't move. They don't blink. But their presence is suffocating, radiating a pressure that digs into Riven's skull like a phantom nail.

The same man from the café. The one who had looked at him like he knew.

Riven barely has time to process before the man tilts his head.

And suddenly, the world fractures again.

---

Riven stumbles, the ground beneath him tilting like a ship caught in a violent storm. He blinks, and in that instant—

He's somewhere else.

The city is gone. The world is gone.

He stands in an endless expanse of black glass, stretching infinitely in every direction. The air is dense, thick with something he can't name. His reflection stares back at him from the polished surface beneath his feet. But it's wrong.

The figure in the glass isn't mimicking his movements. It stands still, watching him.

Then—

It smiles.

Not his smile. Something else's.

A voice whispers from the void, cold and hollow.

"You're unraveling, Riven."

He turns sharply, searching for the source.

"They won't let you go."

He feels it then. The weight of something colossal pressing down on him. An unseen force gripping the edges of reality, trying to reassemble it before it's too late.

"You are not the first."

The air quakes. The reflections around him begin to fracture.

And then—

Hands burst from the glass.

Dozens of them. Grasping, clawing, pulling.

Riven barely has time to react before they drag him under.

---

He wakes with a violent gasp.

Cold sweat clings to his skin. His heart slams against his ribs.

He's back.

Back in his apartment. In bed. The ceiling above him is the same as before, the world unchanged.

But something is different.

His hands are trembling. His breaths come in shallow, ragged gasps.

And Emery—

She sits beside him, her face unreadable.

"You were talking in your sleep," she says softly.

Riven swallows hard, his throat dry. "What did I say?"

Her expression darkens. "You kept saying the same thing. Over and over."

He grips the sheets, his knuckles white. "What was it?"

She hesitates, then whispers:

"They're rewriting me."

The room feels too small. Too quiet.

And in the mirror across the room—

His reflection is still smiling.

Even though he isn't.