Woke up with shoulder pain like I’d slept on a box of nails. Looked in the mirror and—two black wings. Not cool. Not useful. Kind of dramatic though. Hoodies fit different now.
Something’s been trailing me for weeks. Tall. Too long. Arms that wobble like bad scanlines. It’s not what I expected to be scared of; I’m an average dude with bills. But this thing doesn’t care about bills.
Alley lights stronger. Rooftop figures multiplied. Symbols under the city are reacting to… me? The feathers I found? The wings? Either way, the pattern’s getting louder. I’m getting drafted into something and I didn’t sign the paperwork.