✦

The walk back to my base felt longer than it should've.

Not because of distance.

Because the world kept… watching.

Shadows paused a little too long.Reflections blinked a little too late.A lamppost hummed with a faint, rhythmic vibration — like it was remembering a song someone had ripped from its pages.

The girl clung to my sleeve with both hands, small fingers trembling.

Her form wasn't collapsing — not yet.But she flickered every few steps, as if her outline was negotiating with the story about how real she was allowed to be.

"You're stable," I murmured.

She didn't answer.

Not because she disagreed.Because she didn't trust her voice not to crack.

I didn't blame her.

✦My base came into view — a converted storage bunker tucked into the eastern block. Reinforced walls, sealed door, layered protection scripts, emergency power cells.

Quiet.

Controlled.

Safe.

Usually.

But today, as I approached, faint symbols flickered across the metal door — fragmented runes, half-words, stray punctuation marks.

Narrative traces.

Not mine.

Not the system's.

The world's.

I placed a hand on the surface.

It vibrated — a humming pulse that echoed with energy I didn't want to name.

The girl hid behind me.

"What is that…?"

"Someone tried to rewrite the door," I said. "Not well, but they tried."

[ System Notice: External Draft Residue Detected ][ Classification: Unknown Author ][ Risk Level: Moderate ]

Great.

Even my door was getting fanfiction.

✦I keyed my access code.

The door opened with a long hiss, heavy metal sliding aside.Inside, everything was exactly where I left it — the minimal furniture, the worn desk, the cold lamp, the stacked rations, the neatly folded blanket in the corner.

But the air felt wrong.

It tasted like someone had been whispering inside it.

A tiny tremor ran through the girl's hands.

"Bhaiya… something is in here."

"I know."

I stepped inside first.

She followed, hesitating only at the threshold — her outline stuttered once, as if the room disagreed with her shape, but she pushed through it.

The lights flickered on.

Everything looked normal.

Everything felt wrong.

✦I sat her on the small couch. She perched on the edge like sitting fully might make her disappear.

Her fingers twisted the hem of her hoodie.Over and over.Nervous looping.

"Ishaan…" she whispered. "Am I going to break?"

"No."

A lie.

But a necessary one.

She swallowed hard. "δ… it said I wasn't meant to be."

"Then δ is scared."

Her eyes rose, wide and startled. "Of me?"

"No." I smiled faintly. "Of what your existence says about the story."

She didn't understand — not fully — but the words steadied her a little.

Her outline wavered again, a faint glitch running along her left arm before settling.

I needed to anchor her.Soon.

But anchors weren't simple.Not for something that wasn't born into the main narrative.

Her existence was a question the story didn't want asked.

✦I moved toward the back wall, checking the layers of protection I'd carved there weeks ago.

The moment my palm touched the barrier—

The room shifted.

Softly.

Quietly.

Like a breath held between pages.

A ripple spread across the far wall — the concrete stirring like liquid.

The girl gasped and shrank back into the couch.

"What's happening?"

"It's not me," I murmured. "It's the world."

The ripple thickened — stretching upward, widening like a vertical pool.

Ink-dark at first.

Then shimmering into something crystalline.

A hallway began forming inside the wall.

A long corridor of faint luminescent lines.Walls made of words that hadn't been written yet.

A doorway into a draft.

[ System Warning: Unscheduled Corridor Formation ][ Type: Echo Corridor ][ Risk: High ]

Ah.

That explained the taste of whispering in the air.

"Echo…" I breathed.

The system didn't need to explain.

Echo Corridors were unstable bridges — places where discarded or future possibilities bled into the current narrative.

Hallways between might-have-beens.

Not safe.

Not predictable.

Not avoidable.

The girl stood shakily.Her voice barely held shape.

"Is it… calling you?"

"No," I said.

But the truth was worse.

"It's expecting me."

✦The corridor pulsed again — a soft beckoning glow running down its length, like a pulse moving through a sleeping creature.

The girl grabbed my sleeve.

"Don't go."

Her fear was sharp enough to hurt.

"I have to," I said softly. "If I don't see what's changing, we won't understand the fractures."

"You can understand them later!" She stepped in front of me, arms spread. "Please… please don't leave me alone. I just—"

Her voice broke.Her form blurred.

She flickered into three versions:One crying.One angry.One silent and hollow-eyed.

I touched her shoulder. All three flickers steadied, merging back into one trembling girl.

"I'm not leaving you," I murmured. "You're coming with me."

Her breath hitched.

"But… if I step inside—"

"You're anchored to me," I said. "And the corridor knows that."

She shook her head vigorously. "I-I'm unstable. What if it tries to pull me apart?"

"It won't."

"How do you know?"

"I don't," I admitted quietly. "But I won't let it."

Her eyes shimmered — fragile hope barely holding.

Slowly, fearfully, she nodded.

✦I stepped toward the corridor's entrance.

Cold brushed my skin like the chill of unread pages.

As I crossed the threshold, the world behind me dimmed — the edges blurring into soft ink.

The girl followed, clutching the back of my shirt.

The corridor stretched ahead like a river made of memory.Every footstep echoed with the faintest whisper — not sound, but thought.

Ishaan Reed.Variable.Contradiction.Walk carefully.Walk carefully.Walk carefully.

The words repeated, layered into the walls, shifting tone each time.

"Why is it saying that?" the girl whispered.

"Because Echo Corridors record every narrative that touches me," I said. "Past. Future. Rejected drafts. Lost outcomes."

"So this place is…"

"Everything I could have been."

She squeezed my arm tightly.

"I don't like it."

"Me neither."

But we kept walking.

✦Halfway through the corridor, the whispers changed.

A new set of words emerged from the walls — softer, slower, spoken by a voice that didn't belong to the story.

A voice I had heard once before.

During the override.

[ Do Not Break. You Are Not Finished. ]

My breath caught.

The girl's grip froze.

"That voice…" she whispered. "It's the same as before."

"Yes."

"Who is it?"

"I don't know."

But my heart beat too fast.

That voice didn't sound like a god.Or a narrator.Or a system directive.

It sounded like someone reading over my shoulder.

Someone outside.

Someone watching.

Someone who wasn't supposed to speak.

The corridor pulsed again — a deeper glow rising in the distance.

The walls trembled.

A shape began forming ahead.

A figure.

Tall.Blurred.Outline humming like static on old paper.

And it stood there.

Waiting for me.

Like it knew I would come.

The girl's voice cracked beside me:

"Ishaan… I think… that's another you."

I stared at the silhouette.

My pulse steadied.

My breath slowed.

Some part of me already understood—

This wasn't a Mirror Draft.Not α.Not β.Not γ.Not δ.

This was something worse.

A version of me the story once wrote…and then erased.

✦The silhouette ahead didn't move.

It stood like a statue carved out of everything the story regretted writing.

The corridor's walls flickered around it, echoing with half-words and broken lines — fragments of drafts that should never have touched light.

The girl clutched my arm so tightly her fingers trembled against my skin.

"That's not you," she whispered.

"No," I said. "It's who I could have been."

The silhouette stepped forward.

And its face sharpened.

My face.

But wrong.

Too hollow.Too sharp.Eyes like someone had scraped out the hope and filled the spaces with ink.

A cruel imitation wearing my features like a borrowed mask.

"Finally," he said, voice rasping as though dragged across pavement. "I was wondering how long you would take to find me."

My pulse didn't spike.It slowed.

Nothing was more dangerous than a version of myself that had nothing left to lose.

✦I stepped in front of the girl.

Erased-Ishaan tilted his head, examining me with the cold precision of someone dissecting a familiar corpse.

"You survived," he murmured. "Of course you did."

"That bothers you?" I asked.

His smile was thin and fractured.

"It disgusts me."

There it was.No ambiguity.No mystery.

Pure hostility sharpened into purpose.

The girl's outline flickered again — reacting instinctively to the tension between us.

Erased-Ishaan noticed.

His smile widened.

"You brought a stray draft with you? Interesting. You were always good at collecting broken things."

My jaw tightened. "Stay away from her."

His eyes darkened — an abyss swallowing imitation humanity.

"Oh? Protective, are we? Funny. In my draft, I didn't get the chance to save anyone."

"What happened?" I asked.

His smile split further — too wide, too sharp.

"The story corrected me."

Ah.

That explained the bitterness.

And the emptiness.

"And now," he continued, taking another slow, deliberate step, "I'm here to correct you."

✦The girl tried to hide behind me, trembling.

I kept her behind my arm.

"Why now?" I asked quietly. "Why appear here?"

He lifted one hand, palm up.

The corridor responded to him — words crawling up the walls, rearranging, rewriting themselves into swirling patterns around his fingers.

"This place," he said softly, "is where the story dumps the outcomes it doesn't want. The versions it kills. The lines it fears."

"And you were one of them."

"Yes." His smile twitched. "I died before the second scenario. Quickly. Pointlessly. The story erased me. But I lingered. Long enough to see everything I wasn't allowed to become."

His gaze locked onto mine.

Long enough to hate you.

He didn't need to say it.

It radiated off him like heat.

✦He took a step closer.

I matched it.

The corridor vibrated.

The girl flinched, pressing her forehead to my back.She was fading again — instability rising whenever the narrative pressure increased.

Erased-Ishaan noticed her trembling more intensely.

"Oh, look at that," he whispered. "She's already cracking. What a delicate little contradiction."

"She's not yours to touch," I said.

He laughed — abrupt, harsh, hollow.

"Everything in this corridor is mine."His voice sharpened. "Including you."

I felt the weight in his words — the story's forgotten pain condensed into something sharp enough to cut.

He stepped closer again.

This time the ground itself reacted — glowing beneath his feet, forming lines that converged toward mine.

The corridor wanted us to clash.

It fed on it.

Echo spaces liked confrontation.

They liked resolution.

They liked blood.

✦He stopped half a meter from me.

Close enough to see every crack in that stolen face.

Close enough for his voice to drop to a whisper.

"You know what I realized, Ishaan Reed?"His stare bored into me."We aren't different people. We're the same man — but you got pages I didn't."

"And now you want to take them?" I asked.

"No."His expression darkened."I want to tear them out."

His hand shot forward.

Not a punch.

Not an attack.

A grasp — reaching for my throat with the precision of someone who'd practiced killing me thousands of times in his mind.

The girl cried out.

My hand snapped up, blocking his wrist before it touched skin.

Heat flared between us.

The corridor's lines rattled.

The whispers grew louder.

Replace him.Replace him.Rewrite the error.Rewrite the error.

Erased-Ishaan leaned closer, grin stretching too wide.

"You feel it, don't you?" he murmured. "The story wants you gone. I'm the correction. I'm what happens when you defy too many lines."

I pushed him back.

He slid only an inch.But an inch was enough.

"Correction?" I said. "You're a malfunction."

His grin vanished.

He lunged.

✦His fist came toward my ribs — silent, controlled, deadly.I pivoted, letting it pass, grabbing his sleeve, twisting his momentum.

For a moment, it felt like fighting myself in a dream —every instinct mirrored, every move anticipated, every strike familiar.

But his fighting style wasn't mine.

It was mine stripped of restraint.Mine without hesitation.Mine without humanity.

He wanted death, not victory.

"You hesitate," he hissed, slamming an elbow toward my throat.

I ducked. He missed by a breath.

"You think," he snarled, kicking at my knee.

I blocked with my shin. Pain spiked.

"You feel," he spat, grabbing for my collar.

I twisted free.

He was faster.

Strong.

But his strength wasn't the problem.

His hatred was.

✦A crack split through the corridor.

Far down its length, the walls peeled open — collapsing into a dark, swirling absence.

The corridor was destabilizing.

The girl staggered, nearly falling.

Her outline split into three again — shaking violently.

"Ishaan…" Her voice trembled. "I can't— I can't hold—"

I turned toward her—

And that moment was all he needed.

Erased-Ishaan's hand closed around my throat.

He slammed me into the wall.

Pain sparkled behind my eyes.

"Careless," he whispered, tightening his grip. "You don't deserve the narrative."

I struggled against his hold — my fingers gripping his wrist, muscles tightening.

But he leaned in, his face inches from mine, eyes empty of everything except violent resolve.

"I will walk out of this corridor wearing your body," he whispered. "And no one will know the difference."

The world blurred.

The wall behind me vibrated like a waking beast.

His fingers pressed harder—

Something cracked.

Not my bones.

The corridor.

A sharp shockwave rippled through space, rattling the words around us. The girl screamed — her voice echoing through the hall, splintering into multiple overlapping cries.

Her instability was spiking.

I forced my voice past the pressure on my throat.

"You're… wrong."

Erased-Ishaan paused.

I looked him dead in the eyes.

"You're not me."

His grip faltered — for half a breath.

Just half.

But half was enough.

I slammed my forehead into his.

He reeled.

I drove my elbow into his jaw.

He staggered back — fury twisting his features into something monstrous.

The corridor pulsed in response.

[ System Notice: Echo Corridor Integrity—Failing ][ Collapse Imminent ]

Perfect timing.

✦"Stay back!" I shouted at the girl.

She tried — but her legs gave out. Her outline swung wildly, nearly fragmenting again.

I stepped toward her—

But Erased-Ishaan surged forward one last time, fingers curling like claws.

"You don't get to leave!" he roared.

The corridor cracked like lightning.

A fissure of pure blank space tore across the floor between us.

A swallowing void.

Erased-Ishaan lunged—

The floor gave way beneath him.

He grabbed the edge of the corridor — fingertips scraping at broken letters — hanging by sheer stubborn defiance.

His eyes burned into mine.

"This isn't over," he snarled. "I will climb out. I will tear your life apart. I will rewrite you."

"I'll be waiting," I said softly.

His grip slipped.

His eyes widened — not with fear, but furious disbelief.

Then he fell.

Dragged into the blankness below.

His scream didn't echo.

It was swallowed completely.

✦The corridor shuddered.

[ Collapse: 97% ]

I ran to the girl and scooped her up.Her form was flickering like a dying lamp.

"I-I'm not— stable—" she whispered.

"You will be," I said, tightening my hold.

"But if I—break—"

"Then I'll break with you."

She went silent.

I sprinted.

The corridor was collapsing behind us — walls shattering into torn sentences and disappearing into the void.

A rush of cold wind tore at my jacket.

The exit glowed ahead.

The floor cracked under my feet.

[ Collapse: 99% ]

I leapt—

✦We tumbled out of the Echo Corridor as it folded in on itself like a burning chapter.

The opening sealed behind us with a single soft sound.

A page turning.

I lay on the floor of my base, breathing hard.

The girl curled against me, shaking but whole.

Alive.

Outside, the world was quiet again.

Too quiet.

She lifted her head.

"Bhaiya… who was he?"

I stared at the now-silent wall.

"A warning," I said softly."And a promise."

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