Chapter 19: The World Starts Folding Wrong

Chapter 19: The World Starts Folding Wrong

They found the market by accident.

It sat behind a half - collapsed laundromat and a chain pharmacy with a sun - faded logo and cracked windows. The painted "Grocery" sign above the door was so weathered it looked like a ghost of itself — letters half - flaked off, like the word had been trying to disappear.

No footsteps. No wind. Just that eerie pressure hanging in the air again — like the city had stopped breathing.

"I don't like this," Aria muttered, slowing down. Her fingers brushed the hilt of the knife Jules had handed her before everything fell apart. Just holding it helped.

Selene stepped ahead of her and tested the door. The automatic sensor twitched, hiccupped halfway open, then stopped like it forgot what it was supposed to do. She shoved it the rest of the way with her shoulder.

The air inside smelled like old sugar and something sour trying to hide underneath.

Aria followed cautiously, her boots crunching over crushed snack packs and torn coupons that had melted into the floor. She didn't like the way the light flickered overhead — too erratic. Like it was stuttering just for them.

"I don't think anyone's been here," she whispered.

Selene's voice was low. "Someone has. But not recently."

She crouched beside a streak of something dark smeared along the linoleum. Nearby, a burst juice box lay leaking down the aisle, half - frozen and syrupy. Selene touched the edge of the smear, then wiped her fingers on her coat.

"Blood's old. Nothing's been scavenged since."

They moved deeper into the store, steps soft, ears straining.

The aisles were still full — almost too full. Like the store had been restocked right before everything went to hell and then frozen in time. Everything was slightly off-kilter. Boxes leaned the wrong way. Cans weren't stacked neatly. A pyramid of baked beans had one can on top that looked placed — not dropped, not rolled — just intentionally set there, watching.

"This place feels… wrong," Aria said.

"It's waiting," Selene replied softly, already pulling out her knife again.

They cleared aisle after aisle without speaking. Aria's bag bounced lightly at her hip, still mostly empty. Her stomach growled, but she barely noticed.

She grabbed a box of crackers and paused, eyes closing.

That space — her space — was easier to find now. Like it was stretching toward her before she even reached for it. She didn't have to strain. She just… let go.

The box vanished from her hand.

Selene nodded from a few feet away. "You're getting better."

"Feels different," Aria said, moving to the pasta. "Like it's awake now."

Selene glanced at her, brow lifted. "Awake?"

Aria smiled, cheeks tinting pink. "Yeah. My pocket dimension. It's not like the paradise dimension I remember — the one I used to escape to. That one's endless, perfect, like a warm embrace, a place where time folds gently around me. But this pocket? It's smaller, cramped sometimes, more like a storage locker. I can shove anything in there, as much as I want. It's kind of… practical."

Selene approached, a small smirk playing at her lips. "Practical, huh?"

Aria shrugged, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Yeah. Not as dreamy as paradise, but useful. I can stash whatever — food, supplies, whatever. It's like I'm a walking storage unit. And I feel it can upgrade. Get bigger, stronger."

Selene chuckled. "I'm sorry I can't fully awaken your succubus bloodline like Elara would. I'm ice, not flame. I'm not the fire that burns through you."

Aria shook her head quickly, a flush creeping up her neck. "No. What I have right now? It's the best. Better to have control than to be consumed. And honestly, storing all this stuff? I'm kinda impressed with myself."

Selene arched an eyebrow, teasing. "I didn't hear that."

Aria rolled her eyes but smiled, playful despite the flutter in her chest. She didn't understand why she felt so drawn to Selene already — they'd barely met — but she trusted her. Completely.

Aria took Selene's hand gently, holding it like a lifeline. "Don't pretend you don't affect me. I'm not a kid. I know what a succubus is. Maybe I don't fully accept it yet, but it's because of you — because you're here — that I don't want to run from it. I don't mind… if, uh…" Her voice caught, cheeks burning hotter. "If you want to be part of it."

Selene said nothing — just leaned in, her lips soft and sure against Aria's, silencing her words with a kiss.

They went back to what they were doing.

Selene nodded from a few feet away. 'You're getting better.'

"Feels different," Aria said, moving to the pasta. "Like it's fully awake now."

Selene's brow lifted. "Awake?"

Aria didn't answer immediately. She pulled in a few sealed water bottles, some antiseptic wipes, and a pack of protein bars. Each item blinked out of existence in her palm, slipping into that strange place inside her like water disappearing down a drain. No weight. No sound.

"Not just space," Aria murmured. "It feels like it's learning me. Or… growing with me."

"Or because of you," Selene said.

Aria hesitated at the freezer aisle.

The hum was stronger here — deeper. Almost soothing. Frost clung to the glass doors like ivy. She ran her fingers down one pane and left a smear of warmth.

Then she looked at her reflection — and stopped.

For a second, her eyes weren't hers. They glowed faintly — amber and white like liquid sunlight. Then they blinked back to normal.

Selene moved beside her. "What are you thinking?"

"I want to try something."

She grabbed a frozen vacuum - sealed pack of tilapia, cold and stiff in her hands. Focused. Dropped it into the space.

Then she waited.

Ten seconds passed. Then twenty.

She pulled it back.

It reappeared — exactly the same. Still frozen. Still pristine.

"Time's not moving in there," Selene said slowly.

"It's more than storage," Aria replied. "It's like… it holds things in stasis. Untouched. Like whatever this is, it doesn't follow the same rules as here."

Selene watched her carefully. "Does it scare you?"

"Sometimes." Aria tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "But it also feels like mine."

She looked down at her hand. "And lately… it feels like it's hungry."

They didn't linger much longer. Aria pulled in a flashlight, sealed batteries, dry ramen. She didn't speak, just moved with practiced rhythm. By the time they left, her pack was still light — but she'd stored enough for a week.

Outside, the world had shifted again.

Twilight painted the sky in bruised lavender and bloodstained orange. Buildings shimmered at the edges, warping like heat mirages even though the air was cold. A strange wind blew petals — or maybe ash — through the street, whispering against their boots.

They walked in silence, tension tight between them.

Then Aria said, "What if I can put people in there?"

Selene didn't stop walking. "You've thought about it?"

"I don't know why. The idea just came." Aria swallowed. "Do you think I could?"

Selene turned to look at her, unreadable. "Maybe. But why would you want to?"

"I don't know," Aria admitted. "Safety? Escape? If I could bring someone inside with me… maybe they'd be protected."

"Or trapped," Selene said softly. "You don't know the rules yet."

They passed a crooked streetlamp flickering like it was trying to send Morse code. Neither of them could understand it. A dog barked once — but the sound came from somewhere underground.

They turned a corner — and stopped.

Something was off.

The buildings ahead hadn't collapsed — they'd folded. Like paper bent the wrong way, pressing inward at impossible angles. Windows faced down. A fire escape twisted into the ground like a corkscrew.

On the other side, a massive billboard buzzed to life.

Static flickered — then Aria's face appeared on it. Then Selene's. Then both, side by side, staring back at themselves with frozen expressions.

"What the hell —" Aria started.

Then the siren began.

It wasn't like the warning sirens from before — not mechanical, not an alert. This sound was deeper. Organic. Like the city itself was moaning through its bones.

The pavement trembled beneath their feet.

Selene grabbed Aria's wrist. "Don't move."

Aria's ears popped like she was rising in altitude too fast. Her vision blurred at the edges. Across the street, a man walking alone dropped to his knees, eyes rolling back white before he collapsed entirely.

The pressure shifted. Not down. Not above.

Inside.

Aria gasped.

The space within her pulsed.

She dropped to one knee, clutching her stomach. Her skin glowed faintly beneath her coat, right over her ribs.

"It's speaking," she whispered.

Selene knelt beside her. "What is?"

"That place — inside me. The one that holds things. It's whispering now. Not words. Just… feeling."

Selene stared at her, eyes narrowing. "What's it saying?"

Aria blinked up at her, breath catching.

"It's ready."

The siren cut off.

Just gone.

The silence left behind was worse.

Selene stood slowly, eyes scanning the street, the shadows, the building folds.

"We need to move," she said. "Now."

They took off down a side road, running lightly but fast, careful not to draw attention. The space inside Aria pulsed with every step — like it was tracking her, mapping her nerves, syncing with her heartbeat.

By the time they reached an alley two blocks over, Aria's glow had dimmed — but not faded. Selene pressed her back against the brick wall, scanning the street.

"Are you okay?"

"I think so," Aria said. "But that sound… that siren…"

"It was calling something."

"You think it was for me?"

Selene looked her dead in the eyes. "I think everything in this city is starting to orbit you. And whatever you carry inside? It's not just yours anymore."

Aria pressed her palm to her chest. "Then I need to learn how to use it before someone else does."

Selene's jaw flexed. "We'll figure it out."

A screech echoed in the distance — then another.

But this one wasn't human.

Aria didn't want to know what it belonged to.

The two of them moved again — no words this time. Just footsteps, breath, silence. The kind you make when you know the next move matters more than the last.

The city wasn't broken anymore.

It was transforming.

And she was changing with it.