You stand frozen in the street, trying to piece together what just happened. The woman—her face is burned into your mind now. Her words echo in your head: "You left."
The world around you feels more solid now, more tangible, yet it's still wrong. The air seems thicker, almost suffocating, as though something is watching.
You glance around. The street looks like a normal city street - except it isn't. The buildings are too tall. The cars move too slowly. There's a lingering sense of decay in the air. Everything seems off.
A figure passes by you, and you turn to look. It's a person, but their eyes—they're staring right through you. They don't blink, don't even acknowledge your presence. They just walk past, their expression empty.
Your pulse quickens.
The city knows you're here.
It remembers.
You start to walk, driven by an instinct you can't explain. There's something pulling you forward, something you have to see. The woman's face lingers at the back of your mind, and you feel like the world is shifting beneath your feet, moving in strange ways.
You turn another corner, and then—
There it is.
The Clock Tower.
But this isn't the same tower you saw before. This one is… alive.
It's grown taller, more towering than before, and the clock face has changed. The hands are moving erratically, shifting forward and backward in an unpredictable rhythm. The black void inside the clock seems to pulse, like it's breathing, waiting for something—or someone.
You can feel it now. The pull. It's stronger, more urgent.
You don't know why, but you walk toward the tower, drawn to it, as if it's your only choice. The city around you begins to fade, the noise and bustle of the streets blurring into a low hum. Only the tower and the dark sky above are clear.
As you approach the doors, the familiar sensation of being watched hits you again. You pause, heart racing, then slowly push open the heavy doors.
Inside, the tower feels even more oppressive. The air is thick, almost sticky, and there's a sound—a voice—coming from above. It's a low murmur, like a crowd whispering in unison.
You look up.
And there it is again. The reflection.
It stands on the platform high above you, its form distorted and flickering in the low light, like it's not sure whether it's real or part of the tower itself. Its eyes lock with yours, and it smiles—that same, twisted smile.
"You came back."
The reflection's voice is cold, but there's something familiar about it. Something that makes your heart ache with a mix of dread and longing.
"You can't escape," it says. "You were always supposed to return."
You feel your chest tighten. "What do you mean? What is this place? What did I leave?"
The reflection steps closer, its form still flickering like a broken image, almost glitching in and out of existence.
"This city was never a place for you. It was a prison. A trap. You were meant to forget. All of you—all of us."
The words hit you like a punch to the gut. You stagger back, your mind racing.
"You left once," it continues. "And now you've returned. The city needed you back, and you… you're the key."
You swallow hard. "The key to what?"
"To its survival. To its end."
The reflection leans closer, its face flickering violently, like it's struggling to stay whole. "You are the one who can end it, or you are the one who can stay. Forever."
The room goes still. The sound of the clock ticks again—slowly.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
The clock's hands slow down to an agonizing crawl, and the reflection laughs.
"It's all falling apart, you see. Time doesn't work here anymore. It never did. And now it's almost over."
Suddenly, the ground beneath you shakes. You hear voices—thousands of voices—rising, murmuring in a language you don't understand. You can feel the city shifting, warping. The air grows colder, and the shadows stretch farther, deeper.
You don't know what's real anymore. The city itself seems to be breaking, as if it's trying to escape—or trying to trap you forever.
You turn to the reflection.
"What do I do? How do I fix this?"
It smiles again, but this time, there's something empty in it. The smile doesn't reach its eyes.
"You have two choices. You can destroy it all, end the loop, and escape. Or you can choose to stay—and become part of it."
The city's hum grows louder, almost screaming now. The clock ticks louder, and a deep, unearthly rumble shakes the tower.
You can feel the weight of the decision pressing down on you.
The hum of the city grows louder. The shadows stretch out, curling toward you like tendrils of smoke. The clock's tick has slowed to a crawl, each pulse like a dying heartbeat.
The reflection stares at you with those hollow eyes. The flickering image seems to dissolve and reform as if it cannot hold its shape any longer. Its lips curl into a smile that's more terrifying than comforting, something wrong about it, like it's not even truly alive.
"You can feel it, can't you? The end is near. The choice is yours."
The voices from the city rise in unison, each one a whispering thread weaving through your thoughts. End it. Stay. End it. Stay.
Your heartbeat is in your ears now. The city feels alive, but it's a living thing in pain—a thing that was never meant to be. You are the wound in its heart.
The reflection steps closer, its smile never wavering.
"If you stay, you will never escape. You will become part of the cycle, forever feeding the city's hunger. But you will have power. You will be something more."
The room around you begins to distort again, the shadows flickering, growing long and tall, almost alive. A sensation of cold dread floods your chest, but you feel something else too—a strange pull, like the city is trying to bind you to it, to make you a part of it forever.
"But if you destroy it, you will lose yourself. The city will collapse, and you will be free. But freedom comes at a cost. You will not remember this place. You will not remember who you were. And everything here will be gone."
Your eyes fall to the void—the black hole at the center of the clock. It's not just a void. It's a temptation, pulling at you, pulling at your very soul. The ticking grows louder, unbearable, as if the city is trying to push you into the choice.
"No matter what you choose, you will never be the same. But your choice will shape what comes next."
You close your eyes. The woman's face flashes again. The memory of her saying, "You left." You think about the feeling of home that memory brought—before it all became lost in the void. Was it a real memory? Or just part of the city's manipulation?
You open your eyes. The reflection's eyes gleam with something—knowledge? Fear? Satisfaction? It's all in its gaze.
"Time is running out."
The rumble beneath you deepens. The ground is shaking violently now. You have only moments before the city tears itself apart.
Option 1: Destruction
If you choose to destroy the city, the reflection's smile fades. The clock's hands stop, frozen at the last moment of time. The city trembles, its walls buckling as cracks spider across the ground. A deafening silence overtakes everything, like the world itself is holding its breath.
You step forward. The void calls to you. You reach for it, your fingers brushing the edge. The air around you feels electric, like everything is about to snap.
With a single breath, you push yourself into the void.
The world disappears. The city dissolves into nothingness, a distant echo fading away.
You open your eyes again. But this time, you're alone. The city is gone, and there's nothing left. No people. No reflections. Just you. And the memory of a life that was never yours.
But you're free.
Option 2: Stay
If you choose to stay, the reflection's smile widens. The city shudders, and a strange warmth floods the room—something wrong in its comfort.
You feel the pull—stronger now. It wraps around you, binding you to the city's will. The shadows stretch, coiling around your limbs, seeping into your skin. You can feel it—the city's hunger—and it fills you with a strange, overwhelming power.
The reflection steps back, its form solidifying, its eyes burning with anticipation.
"You are now one with it. You belong here, just as I do."
The clock's hands snap forward, the final echo of time ringing in your ears. The void shatters, and the city reshapes itself around you, molding you into something new, something that will never leave.