You sit in the dark.

The glass is cold.

It hums.

A low vibration.

Feel it in your teeth.

The ink is dry.

The seal is cracked.

You break it.

Shards on the floor.

Black and jagged.

Like teeth.

Like bones.

You do not pick them up.

You look at your hands.

They are steady.

They are not your hands.

They are too old.

Too thin.

The room is small.

A city apartment.

No time.

No date.

Just the hum.

The phone rings.

You let it ring.

It stops.

Starts again.

You pick it up.

It is Silas.

"Did you do it?"

His voice is wet.

Heavy.

"You broke it?"

"Yes."

A long pause.

The hum gets louder.

"Then we are done."

"Done with what?"

"With the cycle."

You lean back.

The chair creaks.

"Silas, you promised."

"I promised you an end."

"You promised me freedom."

"I lied."

The words hit hard.

Soft and hard.

Like rain on stone.

"Why?"

"Because I am tired."

"Tired of what?"

"Of being the bridge."

You close your eyes.

The darkness is full.

Full of faces.

Your mother’s face.

Your father’s face.

Silas’s face.

They are all there.

Waiting.

"Let me in," you say.

"You cannot."

"I can."

"No."

"I will burn this place."

"You will burn yourself."

"Try me."

Silas laughs.

A dry sound.

Like leaves scraping.

"You are not the master."

"Who is?"

"The ink."

"The seal."

"The debt."

You hang up.

The line is dead.

Silence.

Then the hum.

Loud now.

Deafening.

You stand up.

Your knees shake.

You walk to the window.

The city is below.

Lights.

Millions of lights.

Like stars on the ground.

Like eyes.

Watching.

You touch the glass.

It is warm.

It burns.

You pull your hand back.

A red mark.

A brand.

The shape of the seal.

You look at it.

It is your name.

No.

It is everyone’s name.

You remember.

You have always been here.

In this room.

With this glass.

With this hum.

You try to forget.

You cannot.

The door opens.

Silas stands there.

He looks small.

Broken.

His coat is torn.

His eyes are red.

"Let me in," he says.

"I said no."

"Please."

"Go away."

He steps inside.

He does not ask.

He walks to the center of the room.

He looks at the shards.

He kneels.

He picks up a piece.

It cuts his finger.

Blood drips.

Red on the white floor.

"You see?" he says.

"I see."

"It is not magic."

"What is it?"

"It is memory."

"Whose memory?"

"Yours."

He holds up the shard.

It glows.

A faint blue light.

"It holds the past."

"And the future?"

"It holds the debt."

You look at him.

You do not trust him.

He is the traitor.

He broke the promise.

He left you alone.

For years.

Decades.

Centuries.

You do not know.

Time is a lie.

"Give it back," you say.

"I cannot."

"Why?"

"Because you are me."

The room tilts.

The hum stops.

Total silence.

Silas smiles.

It is a sad smile.

Tired.

Ancient.

"You were always me."

"No."

"Yes."

He throws the shard at you.

It sticks in your chest.

Not deep.

Just enough.

You gasp.

You fall to your knees.

The pain is cold.

Like ice.

Like water.

You look at your hand.

It is changing.

The skin is peeling.

Underneath is ink.

Black ink.

You look at Silas.

He is fading.

Like smoke.

Like mist.

"Let me go," he whispers.

"I will."

"Will you?"

"Yes."

He vanishes.

You are alone.

The glass is gone.

The shards are gone.

The floor is clean.

Only the red mark.

Only the blood.

You look at the window.

The city is still there.

But it is different.

The lights are dark.

The streets are empty.

The buildings are gray.

Ash.

Everything is ash.

You touch the mark on your chest.

It is warm.

It is alive.

You feel it.

The weight.

The burden.

The cycle.

You cannot break it.

You cannot escape.

You are the seal.

You are the keeper.

You are the debt.

You stand up.

You walk to the door.

You open it.

The street is there.

It is quiet.

A woman walks by.

She looks at you.

She sees you.

She knows you.

She nods.

You nod back.

She walks on.

You follow.

The city is awake.

The hum is back.

Soft.

Constant.

You walk.

You do not stop.

You do not look back.

There is nothing to look back at.

There is only now.

Only the next step.

Only the next breath.

You are tired.

So tired.

But you walk.

Because you must.

Because it is your life.

Your curse.

Your gift.

You are the bridge.

You are the wall.

You are the door.

And you are closed.

The woman stops.

She turns around.

She looks at you.

Her eyes are empty.

Like wells.

Deep.

Dark.

She opens her mouth.

No sound comes out.

She points to your chest.

To the mark.

You touch it.

It burns.

She points to the sky.

There is no sky.

Only the city.

Endless.

Gray.

She points to herself.

Then to you.

Then to the street.

Then to the ground.

She is telling you something.

A secret.

A truth.

You do not understand.

You want to.

You need to.

You step closer.

She steps back.

The distance grows.

You cannot reach her.

You try.

Your hand passes through the air.

Through her.

She is gone.

The street is empty.

Again.

You are alone.

The hum is loud.

It fills your head.

It fills your heart.

It fills the world.

You close your eyes.

You breathe.

In.

Out.

In.

Out.

The pain fades.

The fear fades.

The anger fades.

Only the duty remains.

You open your eyes.

The city is there.

It is waiting.

You are waiting.

You are the same.

You are different.

You are the same.

You walk.

The steps are heavy.

The air is thick.

It tastes of iron.

It tastes of old paper.

It tastes of time.

You see a shop.

The window is open.

Inside, there is a desk.

On the desk, there is a glass.

It is full of ink.

It is black.

It is deep.

You look at it.

It looks at you.

You know what it is.

You know what you must do.

You walk into the shop.

The bell rings.

A soft chime.

Like a bell in a church.

Like a bell in a grave.

You sit at the desk.

You pick up a pen.

It is dry.

You dip it in the ink.

It soaks up the black.

It becomes alive.

You look at the paper.

It is blank.

You start to write.

The words come.

They are not yours.

They are old.

They are true.

They are the end.

You write your name.

You write the date.

You write the debt.

You write the release.

The pen stops.

The ink stops.

The hum stops.

Silence.

Total silence.

You look at the paper.

The words are gone.

The paper is blank.

The ink is dry.

The glass is empty.

You are empty.

You feel light.

You feel free.

You feel dead.

You stand up.

You walk out of the shop.

The city is bright.

The sun is out.

The sky is blue.

The people are there.

Living.

Breathing.

Laughing.

You look at your hands.

They are yours.

Young.

Strong.

Clean.

No ink.

No blood.

No mark.

You look at your chest.

Smooth skin.

No brand.

No pain.

You are free.

You are free.

You are free.

You walk into the crowd.

You disappear.

You are one of them.

You are no one.

You are everyone.

You are free.

The hum is gone.

The cycle is broken.

Or is it?

You stop.

You feel it.

A tiny vibration.

In your teeth.

In your bones.

It is back.

Soft.

Faint.

But there.

You close your eyes.

You smile.

It is a sad smile.

A brave smile.

You open your eyes.

You walk on.

You do not look back.

You do not stop.

You are the bridge.

You are the wall.

You are the door.

And you are open.

The city goes on.

The life goes on.

You go on.

Always.

Forever.

Until the end.

Which is never.

Which is now.

Which is you.

You take a breath.

It is clean.

It is sweet.

It is yours.

You walk.

The steps are light.

The air is thin.

The world is wide.

You are small.

You are big.

You are here.

You are there.

You are the echo.

You are the voice.

You are the silence between the words.

You are the space between the stars.

You are the threshold.

You cross it.

Again.

And again.

And again.

The glass is broken.

The ink is dry.

The seal is cracked.

But the door is open.

You walk through.

Into the light.

Into the dark.

Into the life.

Into the death.

Into the loop.

You do not fight it.

You accept it.

You carry it.

You are strong.

You are weak.

You are human.

You are more.

You are less.

You are enough.

The hum fades.

The silence grows.

You are alone.

You are together.

You are home.

You are lost.

You are found.

You are free.

You are bound.

You are the story.

You are the teller.

You are the listener.

You are the end.

You are the beginning.

You are the middle.

You are the truth.

You are the lie.

You are the real.

You are the fake.

You are the shadow.

You are the light.

You are the dark.

You are the dawn.

You are the dusk.

You are the night.

You are the day.

You are the time.

You are the space.

You are the void.

You are the all.

You are the nothing.

You are the something.

You are the I.

You are the Me.

You are the We.

You are the They.

You are the It.

You are the Who.

You are the What.

You are the Where.

You are the When.

You are the Why.

You are the How.

You are the Answer.

You are the Question.

You are the Silence.

You are the Sound.

You are the Voice.

You are the Word.

You are the Ink.

You are the Paper.

You are the Pen.

You are the Hand.

You are the Eye.

You are the Ear.

You are the Nose.

You are the Mouth.

You are the Tongue.

You are the Tooth.

You are the Gum.

You are the Bone.

You are the Skin.

You are the Blood.

You are the Heart.

You are the Lung.

You are the Liver.

You are the Kidney.

You are the Brain.

You are the Soul.

You are the Spirit.

You are the Ghost.

You are the Demon.

You are the Angel.

You are the God.

You are the Devil.

You are the Man.

You are the Woman.

You are the Child.

You are the Old.

You are the Young.

You are the Dead.

You are the Alive.

You are the Past.

You are the Present.

You are the Future.

You are the Now.

You are the Then.

You are the Before.

You are the After.

You are the First.

You are the Last.

You are the Only.

You are the Many.

You are the One.

You are the All.

You are the Nothing.

You are the Everything.

You are the Truth.

You are the Lie.

You are the Real.

You are the Fake.

You are the Shadow.

You are the Light.

You are the Dark.

You are the Dawn.

You are the Dusk.

You are the Night.

You are the Day.

You are the Time.

You are the Space.

You are the Void.

You are the All.

You are the Nothing.

You are the Something.

You are the I.

You are the Me.

You are the We.

You are the They.

You are the It.

You are the Who.

You are the What.

You are the Where.

You are the When.

You are the Why.

You are the How.

You are the Answer.

You are the Question.