The Midnight Warp

The city is a phantom, a memory of light drowned in the cold and

relentless rain. Reflections warp and bend, showing us a fractured world that

was never meant to exist. Shadows crawl along the walls of corridors long forgotten

by the warmth of the sun. Smoke dances with the candlelight, a silent conversation

held in the heart of the dark. In the rhythmic pulse of the

neon, something ancient and hungry begins to stir tonight. Every flicker is

a heartbeat, and every shadow is a secret that we keep hidden.

The air is heavy here, filled with the scent of dying sparks and cold