[center][hr][img]https://i.imgur.com/R4obRVc.png[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/v3yFihS.png[/img][hr][quote][i]The waves crashed against the shore. 

The moon reflected its light as the night went on peacefully. 

A woman clad in crimson appeared. 

A skull of death.

She walked from the shoreline all the way into the water until the waves kissed her bare feet.

The sea trembled. From its black surface, a shape began to swell—an orb of shifting water, vast and heavy, dripping. It hovered just above the waves, its glow casting a sickly hue on the water.

For a moment, the orb bent. Water surged upward, curling into the suggestion of shoulders, arms, a face that never fully resolved. A hand - if it could be called such - emerged, long and liquid, its outline collapsing and reforming with each heartbeat.

The Witch bowed her head. Mother Deep did not speak with words. The air carried her meaning, a pressure that sank into bone.

[i]I am ready.[/i]

The Witch knelt, carving lines into the sand with a blade of bone. Circles upon circles, bound together with ash and salt, lit only by the pale moon. She laid offerings - iron, blood, fragments of old scripture - each placed with a trembling precision.

The circles burned as the offerings sank into the sand.

Blood darkened, seeping into the tide.

Mother Deep raised her hand, water clinging to her fingers like a veil. The Witch mirrored her, pressing both palms into the final sigil.

The world shuddered.

The sea bent backward, waves twisting into a silent wall. The moon flared bright, swallowed by an unseen hand.

And then—light.

It did not simply shine; it [i]erupted.[/i] A tower of brilliance speared upward from the shoreline, carving a scar across the night sky. The moon’s reflection on the waves shattered like glass, every fragment swallowed into the column’s core. The stars themselves seemed to recoil, their patterns bent and warped by the sheer force that rose from the earth.

It was not fire, nor lightning, nor anything the world had language for. It was a wound—raw, searing, infinite—torn open in the fabric of existence. The horizon folded in on itself, coastlines bending, sky dragged down toward the sea. For miles, the ocean convulsed, pulled into impossible angles, as tides collapsed and reformed as if gravity itself had forgotten its role.

And through it all,[i] silence. [/i]Not the absence of sound, but the suffocation of it - an oppressive, unyielding void that crushed the air from lungs, pressed against hearts, and filled the skull with a ringing emptiness. Every creature near, awake or dreaming, felt it: the certainty that something had been undone.

The ritual was complete.

The line was broken.[/i][/quote][/center][hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/maSDWYS.png[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/GJcmAD6.png[/img][/center][right][b][code]Adrien's Apartment, Capitol Hill, Seattle. Shadow.[/code][/b][/right][right][b]Interactions: None.[/b][/right][hr][hr][center][hider=Massive Attack - Black Milk][youtube]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bf9AgX4Ixs4[/youtube][/hider][/center][hr][hr]

Rain licked the window, drawing crooked lines down the glass. Adrien leaned back on his couch, one arm slung over the side, the other turning the sleeve of a record between his fingers. The low hum of Massive Attack filled the apartment, bass vibrating gently through the floorboards. He liked the way the sound filled the silence—thick, steady, like a second pulse.

The apartment was small but orderly. Stacks of books leaned on the end table, their spines marked with notes and tabs. A jacket was draped carefully over a chair. On the counter, the faint steam of a half-forgotten mug curled upward, dissolving into the air. He moved with precision in the space, never bumping a corner, never knocking things out of place—as though the room had been built around his awareness.

Outside, Capitol Hill glowed in neon smudges and streetlight reflections. Adrien’s glasses caught the light as he looked out across the street, watching a couple argue under an awning, their gestures sharp and obvious even without words. He studied them a moment, then turned away. Not his story.

He dropped the needle back on the record. The track restarted, filling the room with familiar shadows. He closed his eyes, let the rain and the music carry him. For now, this was enough—Seattle nights, a record spinning, the world quiet enough to hold together.

Rain pressed harder against the glass. Adrien sat back, head tilted, letting the bassline wash through him. The track played steadily—until it didn’t.

For half a breath, the sound warped. The record didn’t skip exactly; it bent, notes dragging low like a voice underwater. Adrien opened his eyes. The room was the same, but the edges of it wavered, like heat rising from asphalt. His mug on the counter seemed farther than it should be, then closer again. The couple across the street blurred into smears of light.

He blinked, rubbed at his face, but the distortion deepened. In the hum of the music, another sound bled through—a voice.

[i]"... lee-"[/i]

It was drawn-out, hollow, like someone speaking through an old radio left at the bottom of a well. Adrien’s chest tightened.

[i]"... rooooy..."[/i]

He froze. The name dragged across him like static, thick with a weight he couldn’t place.

[i]"... Leeeeroy."[/i]

The voice was neither inside nor outside, neither dream nor waking. Adrien gripped the arm of the couch, grounding himself in the familiar. The record hissed. The rain slowed. The whole room folded inward.

He tried to move, to speak, but the name rang again—clearer, closer.

[i][b]“Leeroy.”[/b][/i]

Adrien blinked-

And he was gone.[hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/SOLlZcq.png[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/DiV2LGk.png[/img][/center][right][b][code]Streets of Ft. Myers, Florida. Shadow.[/code][/b][/right][right][b]Interactions: None.[/b][/right][hr][hr]

The road hummed beneath the tires. Streetlights flashed rhythmically across the windshield, scattering colors over Imani’s hands. In the backseat, Illiana lay across several seats, braids spilling over her shoulders. The radio played low - some old R&B track that blended with the sound of rain starting to spit against the glass. Imani took in a deep breath and then let out what was on her mind...

[color=#fc0808]"... Your teacher called me again,"[/color] Imani sternly said.

Illiana shifted in her seat, pulling her jacket tighter. "So what? She’s [i]always[/i] calling you." She punctuated that with a roll of her eyes that Imani missed.

They hit a red light, and Imani's head whipped back, [color=#fc0808]"Don't get smart with me, lil' lady. She said you walked out."[/color] Imani didn't raise her voice at all. [color=#fc0808]”Mind explaining [i]why?[/i]”[/color] 

Illiana scoffed. “Because she wouldn’t let me go to the bathroom. What, I’m supposed to go on my-”

[color=#fc0808]”Don't twist it, girl,”[/color] Imani's knuckles tightened against the steering wheel as the light turned green and she pressed the gas pedal. [color=#fc0808]”You didn’t go to the bathroom, you went to the [i]parking lot[/i].”[/color] She would have whipped her head around, but her attention was dead set on the road.

Illiana turned, smirking. “Maybe I just wanted some fresh air.”

[color=fc0808]”Keep it up, and you won't be getting much of that,”[/color] Imani rolled her own eyes.

"... Why's that?" Illiana asked.

[color=fc0808]”Because they're going to suspend you. And best believe if [i]that[/i] happens, you aren't going to be out here running these streets,”[/color] Imani glanced over her shoulder.

Illiana sat up halfway. “[i]'Running these streets?'[/i] You act like I’m doing drugs or some dumb shit. You don’t know what it’s like at that school.”

[color=fc0808]”One, don't curse at me,”[/color] Imani hissed, [color=fc0808]”And two, I know what's [i]not[/i] going to fix it; throwing tantrums every time something's not going your damn way.”[/color] Imani had to stop herself from shouting, taking a deep breath.

“You [i]never[/i] listen,” Illiana shot back. “You just take their side. Every time. Like [i]I’m[/i] the problem."

[color=fc0808]”Because you keep [i]making[/i] yourself the problem,”[/color] Imani snapped, eyes fixed hard on the road. [color=fc0808]”I’ve been around long enough to know how [i]this[/i] ends.”[/color]

Illiana crossed her arms. “‘Cause you’ve got it all figured out.”

[color=fc0808]“You think I’m your enemy, but I’m the one keeping this whole damn thing together. You’ll see that one day.”[/color]

“No, I won’t,” Illiana muttered. “I don’t want your life.”

The air in the car went heavy. Imani’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She opened her mouth—

—and then the world broke.

The road. The rain. The wheel beneath her palms—gone, snatched away in a blink.

Her chest seized. The air folded, bent, warped around her like glass under a hammer. A ripple passed straight through her body, erasing her breath.

And then she was standing somewhere else entirely.

Her body wasn’t her own.[hr][center][img]https://i.imgur.com/OdJ4wyQ.png[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/gwI90I0.png[/img][/center][right][b][code]University of Central Florida - Brandi's Dorm. Orlando, Florida. Shadow.[/code][/b][/right][right][b]Interactions: None.[/b][/right][hr][hr]

The hallway buzzed with faint echoes—doors shutting, someone laughing two floors down, the hum of a vending machine at the end of the corridor. Brandi’s sneakers tapped in rhythm against the floor, syncopated like her own private beat. Her headphones blared a rough demo she’d been working on—layered vocals, half-finished percussion—but it was enough to make her lips curl into a grin.

She swung her dorm room door open with a flourish, tossed her bag onto the bed, and moved straight to her desk, where her laptop and MIDI controller waited. Posters of artists she idolized lined the wall - some glossy and professional, others taped-up magazine cutouts. A strand of LED lights bathed the room in a neon pink glow.

Brandi shimmied her shoulders to the music, fiddling with her fair for a moment. [color=#B2AFA9]Feels... feels right... maybe this track... yeah... gotta nail it...”[/color]

Her fingers tapped the desk in anticipation, drum patterns spilling from her. She could already hear it—the track she was about to make, the kind of beat that would get people out of their seats. For a moment, she forgot about everything else.

And[i] then-[/i]

The sound collapsed. The music warped, folding in on itself like a tape chewed up by a hungry machine. Brandi ripped her headphones off, blinking. Her laptop screen glitched, her LED lights flickered, and the whole room seemed to sway.

She staggered back. The air vibrated, heavy, like bass turned too high. A pressure bloomed in her chest, pushing at her ribs.

Her hand shot to her desk for balance, but her palm hit nothing.

The room dropped away—walls, posters, music, even the hum of her own pulse.

Brandi’s breath caught, her voice snagged in her throat as if she were mid-song and the mic had been cut.

And then—

She was gone.[center][hr][img]https://i.imgur.com/PPSWMhT.png[/img]
[img]https://i.imgur.com/ctoMViz.png[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/uTEH3nG.png[/img][img]https://i.imgur.com/9mjXM0j.png[/img]
[right][b][code]???[/code][/b][/right][hr][/center]
Imani’s eyes snapped open. The first thing she noticed was the weight—her body pressed down against something hard, stiff. Armor. Black, dented, scuffed plates covered her torso and shoulders. The straps dug into her skin as she tried to sit up, and her fingers brushed over a holster empty of a weapon she didn’t remember having. She froze. Nothing looked familiar. The room reeked of chemicals and burnt ozone, with a metallic and acrid scent. Her ears picked up a low, wet scrape near the corner. She turned sharply—and froze again.

[url=https://i.imgur.com/DmJ0ycm.jpeg]A massive shark-like creature lay on the floor.[/url] Its body was jagged and wet, scales glittering in strange, impossible colors. It wasn’t torn or burned, and the walls and floor were untouched—just flattened, as if the air itself had pressed the life out of it. Imani’s stomach knotted. Whatever had killed it hadn’t followed standard rules; it was as if something impossibly precise and deadly had swept through, leaving nothing behind but stillness.

Her chest heaved. [color=fc0808]“Illiana...”[/color] The word tore out of her, but it didn’t sound like her own voice - it was softer and younger than she'd remembered. Panic gnawed at her mind. She swept her eyes across the room: steel beams overhead, pipes crisscrossing the walls, tanks humming softly. Shadows shifted along the floor. She wasn’t alone. Figures - other people - scattered around the room, their forms tense, unfamiliar. None of them spoke, but each seemed to be sizing the space and the danger, just like her.

Before she could speak to ask what in the world was going on, a distant roar hit her ears - waves crashing like the ocean itself had turned into a weapon. Explosions, clangs, shouts, [i]something[/i] was fighting out there. Her body jerked as if it wanted to run.

She tried to remember. Her daughter. She had to find Illiana. Pushing to her feet, she felt the armor shift differently - lighter, less cumbersome than before, her joints springing with a strength she hadn’t had in years. Every movement was more effortless, almost unnervingly so, and yet instinct kicked in without hesitation - hands steady, eyes sweeping the room, tactical awareness sharp despite the rising panic.

Now-

A high-pitched scream shredded the air, sudden and raw. Imani spun toward the sound just as a small girl collided with the floor, scrambling backward over pipes and debris, arms flailing.

[color=B2AFA9]”Oh. [i]My. [b]GOD![/b][/i]”[/color] The girl screamed, [color=B2AFA9]”[i]What the fu- [b]WHERE THE FUCK AM I?![/b][/i]”[/color]

Her petite frame shook with panic, afro puffs bouncing as she spun in place, eyes wide and wild. She slammed against a wall, then pressed her hands to her face, muttering broken fragments of words. Every syllable was a squeal, a stutter, a gasp.

Imani's chest tightened, [color=fc0808]”Hey! Look at me!”[/color] Imani commanded, effortlessly getting the girl's attention, as she closed the gap effortlessly. She grabbed the girl by the shoulders and said, [color=fc0808]”Keep your feet underneath you. Panicking isn't helping right now.”[/color]

A low, shaky voice came from across the room. Imani’s head snapped toward it. A man was rising from a pile of pipes, his black suit and trench coat singed in places. He opened his mouth, clearly trying to speak, and the words stumbled out.

[color=9b1d25]"W-wait-hey, we-uh..."[/color]

The voice faltered mid-sentence, breaking into a rough, unfamiliar timbre. Imani’s eyes narrowed - he [i]looked[/i] just as disoriented as she [i]felt.[/i]

The realization hit him as hard as the chaos around them. His lips moved again, trying to speak, and he stopped himself, biting his tongue. His shoulders slumped.

[color=9b1d25]”... Something's wrong,”[/color]

Imani rolled her eyes, [color=fc0808]”Yeah. I blinked and I'm in a room full of strangers. There's a dead monster in the middle of the room. [i]Something's[/i] wrong alright.”[/color]

The man scrunched his eyebrows, he scanned the room for a moment as if to find this 'monster' before saying, [color=9b1d25]”... [i]What monster?[/i]”[/color]

Imani’s eyes swept the room again, landing on every unfamiliar face, who looked just as confused as the other two she had just spoken to. [color=fc0808]”We don't have time for this.”[/color] Imani muttered to herself, before her eyes swept across the room, taking in the scattered bodies, the unfamiliar armor, the dead shark sprawled on the flaoor. [color=fc0808]”Hey, everyone, look at me.”[/color]  She got everyone's attention, pointing at herself.

Heads turned. Some hesitated, unsure. A few whispered to one another. She didn’t flinch at their confusion. [color=fc0808]”I don’t know what happened, but freaking out isn’t going to help. Find your feet. Take a breath. Focus. Let's figure out what's going on, maybe why we're here...”[/color]

Imani’s eyes flicked toward the shadows at the edges of the room. She didn’t see it - she didn’t hear it - but somewhere down the hall, a wet, subtle slap... slap... echoed faintly, almost imperceptible, the rhythm of something heavy moving. Her gut tightened, though she didn’t know why.