You don't remember why you’re running. You just know that you are. That you must. Your legs keep pumping and your heart is in your ears, as the ground beneath you pulses with the indecision of unstable code—earth one moment, grid the next.
Something is behind you. It doesn’t howl, growl, or pant. It doesn’t need to. In your spine, is a static pinch, a pull trying to realign your body with a timeline it doesn’t belong to anymore. Like a corrupted memory downloading too fast then too slow.
Your right hand is glowing. Not just glowing—beating. A bioluminescent pulse, green and steady, crawling up your veins like a digital heartbeat. It doesn’t hurt but it feels like ice. Your hand guides the way like an electric torch through the forest, illuminating pockets of deep emerald saved from an infinite black. The woods are unnaturally quiet.
Trees shiver between timber to shadow and code, flickering from pine needles to streaming algorithm. Bark warps into math, as Spanish Moss pixelates. It’s g…
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