There was no ground. No sky. No spire.

  Only white.

  Servius floated—or perhaps he fell; it was impossible to tell. The light wasn’t blinding, but it was consuming, leaving no room for shadows or substance. Time felt irrelevant here, stretched thin like taffy, moments bleeding into one another with no sense of sequence.

  It wasn’t a void, though. He could feel... something. A presence—not malevolent, but not welcoming either. Like the weight of a distant storm pressing against his skin, its charge waiting to break.

  His voice came unbidden, dry and biting despite the emptiness. “So this is it? After everything, I get swallowed by a light show. Fun.” His own voice echoed back at him, flat and lifeless, as if the space itself rejected his sarcasm.

  But then, faintly, there was a flicker—a ripple in the whiteness. At first, it was small, like a distant spark of heat lightning. But it grew, distorting the uniform expanse until the light folded into itself, collapsing inward to reveal...

  Servius blinked as the world reassembled itself around him, snapping back into the surreal landscape of the Hollow Nexus. He found himself standing in the middle of a winding street he didn’t recognize, though that wasn’t surprising—nothing in the Nexus ever seemed to stay the same. The spire was gone, or at least no longer visible.

  He flexed his claws absentmindedly, the faint ache of... something lingering in his fingertips. Whatever the spire had done—or shown him—was gone now, leaving behind only the faint memory of resonance, like the fading ring of a struck bell.

  But the Nexus itself had changed.

  It had shifted subtly but unmistakably, as if the spire’s resonance had rippled outward and touched every corner of its bizarre, otherworldly existence. The changes were layered, some obvious, others creeping in at the edge of perception. Servius couldn’t pinpoint everything that was different, but the atmosphere was heavier now, the kind of weight that pressed not just on his body but on his thoughts, his instincts.

  The streets themselves had taken on a more sinister, serpentine quality. Where before they had simply twisted and looped in disorienting but navigable ways, now they seemed to actively writhe beneath his feet, responding to his steps. The ground pulsed faintly, almost imperceptibly, like the shallow breath of a sleeping giant. It was disconcerting—alive but not alive, a suggestion that the Nexus itself was aware of his presence.

  The buildings had grown more intricate and invasive, their surfaces constantly shifting between textures that defied logic. Some sections shimmered like polished glass, reflecting fragmented images of the street and Servius himself—but the reflections moved in ways that didn’t match his movements. Elsewhere, the structures pulsed like living tissue, faint veins crisscrossing their surfaces and glowing faintly in rhythmic pulses, like a heartbeat. He could swear he heard the faint, wet sound of something moving just below the surface, as though the buildings themselves were digesting unseen things.

  The denizens, though still enigmatic, had shifted their behavior. Before, their movements had seemed automatic, like insects caught in an eternal cycle of building and creating. Now, their actions were slower, more deliberate, as if something had disrupted their routines. A Watcher that lingered at the edge of his vision turned its blank mask of void toward him, it now held shifting patterns within that threatened to draw him closer An Architect paused in the middle of weaving shimmering threads into a wall, its elongated fingers faltering for just a moment before resuming its work.

  The most obvious change was the sky—or what passed for it in the Nexus. The pale, uniform glow that had once bathed the town in an almost sterile light was gone, replaced by something darker, more volatile. Swirling patterns of color—deep purples, sickly greens, and faint, ghostly whites—churned above him like a storm trapped beneath glass. The colors bled into one another, twisting and writhing, and every so often, a faint crackle of light danced across the expanse, illuminating the streets below in brief, eerie flashes.

  But the sky wasn’t just a backdrop—it was watching him. Or at least, it felt that way. The swirls of color seemed to shift when he looked away, converging and dispersing in ways that made his skin crawl. It wasn’t malevolent, not exactly, but it was… aware. Observing.

  The Nexus wasn’t just a place anymore. It was reacting. To him.

  Servius exhaled, his breath visible in the suddenly chill air. The temperature had dropped, though he hadn’t noticed it until now. He rubbed his hands together, his claws scraping faintly against the hardened carapace of his gloves. The cold wasn’t unbearable, but it was sharp, biting into him with a clarity that was almost refreshing after the suffocating staleness of the Warp outside.

  He muttered to himself, his dry tone betraying a thread of tension. “So, the town’s alive now. Fantastic. Just what I needed—an audience that doesn’t blink.”

  The sound of his voice felt oddly out of place in the stillness, echoing faintly as if the Nexus were listening. For a moment, he hesitated, his sharp eyes darting to the twisting streets ahead. There was no sound beyond the faint hum of the buildings and the distant, rhythmic crackle of the sky. No footsteps, no voices, no signs of life beyond the denizens’ inscrutable movements.

  Yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted within the Nexus’s very fabric. It wasn’t just the streets or the sky or the denizens. It was the air, the atmosphere, the essence of the place itself. It felt closer now, more intimate, as though the Nexus were leaning in, watching him not as an intruder, but as a participant.

  And there it was again—that faint ache in his fingertips. He flexed them absently, the sensation more pronounced now, as if something had been drawn from him the moment he touched the spire. A resonance, like a faint hum that lingered just beneath his skin, reminding him that he had crossed a threshold, taken a step he couldn’t undo.

  His tail flicked sharply behind him as he adjusted the strap of his rifle, the weight of it grounding him in the midst of the surreal landscape. Whatever the Nexus was doing—whatever it had become—it wasn’t going to stop him. If it wanted to watch, so be it.

  He set off down the street, his sharp eyes scanning the shifting horizon. The Nexus might have changed, but so had he. Whether that was a good thing or not, he couldn’t say. But for now, the only way was forward.

  And the Nexus watched, its twisted streets and churning sky bearing silent witness to the cat who refused to stop walking.

  Servius moved through the twisting streets with deliberate steps, his tail flicking rhythmically behind him. The buildings loomed higher the further he walked, leaning closer to one another like conspirators sharing a secret. Their surfaces shimmered faintly, alive with pulsating veins of light that snaked across walls of stone, crystal, and something disturbingly organic. They weren’t just watching him—they were breathing, their faint movements rippling as though stirred by an unseen wind.

  The deeper he pressed into the labyrinth, the more the town seemed to close in on him. The streets tightened, folding over themselves in a way that turned every turn into a gamble. He rounded one corner, the air colder now, only to find himself staring at the very street he had just left behind. Its distinctive curve and broken lamppost were unmistakable.

  Servius stopped, his claws flexing unconsciously as his sharp eyes darted over the warped street. It wasn’t just a loop—it was deliberate. The Nexus was shifting beneath his feet, mocking his progress.

  “Clever,” he grumbled under his breath, his tail flicking sharply with irritation.

  Turning back, he retraced his steps, but the moment he turned, the ground behind him seemed to ripple like water disturbed by a stone. The street he’d walked moments before had been replaced entirely, its cobblestones now replaced by a wall of undulating stone and light. The wall shimmered faintly, its surface quivering with a wet, gelatinous quality that made his stomach churn.

  Servius clicked his tongue in irritation, his ears flattening against his skull. “Of course,” he muttered. “Wouldn’t want to make things too easy, would we?”

  The wall pulsed once, faintly, almost as though it were responding to him. He stared at it for a moment, his sharp eyes narrowing as the ache in his fingertips returned—subtle at first, but growing stronger, pulsing in sync with the faint movements of the Nexus around him. He flexed his hands, trying to shake off the sensation, but it clung to him like the ghost of an unseen weight.

  “So, we’re doing this now?” he said, his dry tone cutting through the silence like a blade. “Fine. Let’s play.”

  He pressed forward, his steps deliberate, his sharp ears twitching as he listened for any sound beyond the faint hum of the shifting streets. The denizens of the town were still there—he could see them moving in the distance—but their presence felt muted now, their forms drifting like specters through a dream.

  A Watcher lingered at the edge of his vision, its featureless mask tilted toward him. The shifting geometric patterns on its surface were more frenetic than before, as though it was feeding off the distortion of the Nexus. Servius ignored it, his sharp eyes locked on the twisting streets ahead. The Architects were visible further down the path, their elongated limbs weaving threads of light and shadow into the walls of a nearby building. Their movements were even more deliberate now, as though even they were struggling to keep pace with the Nexus’s shifting logic.

  But the streets were the worst.

  Each step brought a new sensation beneath his feet, the ground shifting unpredictably from one texture to another. Smooth stone, jagged crystal, slick surfaces that shone like polished obsidian—all gave way to something worse. Servius stopped abruptly as his boot sank into the ground with a faint squelch, the sensation sending a shiver up his spine.

  Looking down, he saw the ground had turned to flesh—or something like it. Pale and taut, it stretched beneath his feet, faint veins pulsing just below the surface. The rhythm matched the ache in his fingertips, a faint but insistent thrum that refused to be ignored.

  Servius stepped back quickly, his sharp eyes narrowing as the flesh receded, replaced by shifting crystal. “Right,” he muttered. “Body horror now. Good to know.”

  The ground pulsed faintly as though responding to his sarcasm. It wasn’t just a path anymore—it was alive, carrying him deeper into the heart of the Nexus. Each step felt like treading on the exposed nerves of a sleeping giant, and every shift in texture only heightened the unease clawing at his thoughts.

  The air around him grew heavier, colder. A faint mist began to drift through the streets, clinging to the ground like a restless tide. It wasn’t natural mist—it shimmered faintly with colors that shouldn’t have existed, twisting and curling as though alive. Servius could feel it brushing against his fur, leaving a faint tingling sensation that made his tail lash involuntarily.

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  The further he walked, the more frantic the town seemed to become. The streets twisted and shifted faster now, folding over themselves in a surreal display of geometry that made his stomach churn. The ground beneath him writhed with greater urgency, textures shifting from smooth stone to jagged crystal to wet, pulsing flesh in the span of a single step. The colors of the Nexus blurred together, bleeding into one another like paint spilled on water, and the air buzzed with an electric charge that set his fur on edge.

  He stopped abruptly as the ground beneath him convulsed, the vein-like patterns glowing brighter, pulsing in rapid, uneven rhythms. Servius grimaced, his sharp claws curling instinctively. “What the hell is this now?” he muttered, his voice sharper than he intended. The sound of his own voice startled him, echoing in the heavy air like a knife dragged across glass.

  As if in response, the buildings around him leaned in closer, their shifting surfaces flickering between translucent glass and rippling flesh. The mist that clung to the streets thickened, swirling around his legs and rising higher, its shimmering light casting warped, ghostly reflections on the pulsating walls. The ground trembled beneath him, each vibration a jolt that traveled up his legs, setting his teeth on edge.

  Servius’s sharp eyes darted around the distorted street, searching for something—anything—that made sense. But there was nothing. The Nexus was chaos, its twisted forms pressing in on him like the weight of a collapsing sky. His breath quickened, his tail flicking sharply as his claws dug into the strap of his rifle.

  It was too much. Too fast. Too unstable. The town was shifting, morphing, breaking apart and reassembling itself faster than he could process. The Nexus had always been strange, but this... this was different. It wasn’t just changing—it was spiraling out of control. And for the first time since entering this place, Servius felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel before: panic.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  The ground shifted beneath my feet again, rippling like liquid one moment, then crunching like brittle glass the next. The buildings groaned, twisting into jagged shapes that shouldn’t have been able to hold themselves up. The mist swirled higher, clinging to me, wrapping around my arms and legs like it had a will of its own. My tail lashed behind me, a sharp, involuntary motion as if it were trying to shake off the weight pressing down on me.

  The air felt thick, cloying, like it was trying to drown me in its weight. Every sound was too loud, every shifting shadow too bright. I tried to push forward, but it didn’t matter—every step only made things worse. The streets weren’t just changing anymore; they were closing in, warping faster and faster, the Nexus folding itself into some grotesque knot around me. It was chaos, endless and overwhelming, and it was my fault.

  I knew that, even if I didn’t want to admit it. Somewhere deep down, I could feel the truth of it—this place wasn’t just reacting to me. It was mimicking me. The frantic shifting, the twisting streets, the suffocating weight in the air—it wasn’t the Nexus losing control.

  It was me.

  I stopped moving. Not because I wanted to, but because I couldn’t anymore. My legs felt like lead, my chest heaving as I tried to suck in air that suddenly felt too thin. My ears twitched at every creak, every groan, every faint ripple of sound, each one digging into my skull like needles. My claws flexed involuntarily, scratching against my gloves as I clenched my fists. The ache in my fingertips flared again, sharp and rhythmic, pulsing in time with the frantic energy of the Nexus. It was like the place had reached inside me and dragged my own panic to the surface, amplifying it until it filled every corner of my mind.

  I needed to think. I needed to focus. But there was no room in my head for thought—only noise. The sky above churned with color, the buildings writhed in impossible shapes, and the ground shifted underfoot like it was trying to swallow me whole. Everything was too much—too loud, too bright, too alive.

  I dropped to one knee, gripping my rifle tightly, the familiar weight of it grounding me for a moment. But even that felt fleeting, slipping through my fingers like sand. I was losing control, and the Nexus was feeding on it, twisting itself into a mirror of everything I couldn’t contain.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, my ears flattening against my head as I forced myself to block out the chaos. “Alright,” I muttered, my voice tight, trembling with tension. “Think. Just... think.”

  It didn’t work. The sounds were still there, the shifting ground still pulling at me, the air still pressing down on my chest. My claws dug into my palms, grounding me in the faint pain as I clung to the one thing I still had: myself.

  “Focus,” I whispered to no one but myself. “One thing. Just one.”

  I opened my eyes—not to take in the whole scene, but to focus on a single detail. The ground beneath me, rippling faintly like water caught in stasis. I locked my sharp eyes on it, forcing myself to see it, to study the slow, rhythmic motion. It wasn’t hostile. It wasn’t alive. It was just moving. Just a surface, reacting to pressure, to weight, to... me.

  I inhaled deeply through my nose, forcing the breath to be slow, deliberate. The pulse in my fingertips matched the rhythm of the ground, steady now, no longer erratic. I exhaled through my mouth, slower still, and the sound seemed to settle the air around me, pushing back the suffocating weight. I did it again, and again, each breath measured, purposeful, until the frantic edges of my panic began to dull.

  One thing. Just one thing at a time.

  I kept my focus on the ground, willing myself to ignore the rest. The mist was still there, clinging to the edges of my vision, but it didn’t move closer. The buildings leaned inward, but their groans softened, no longer threatening to crush me. Even the sky above seemed to slow its churning, the swirls of color blending into each other with a strange, fluid grace.

  The Nexus wasn’t fighting me anymore.

  No, that wasn’t right. It had never been fighting me. It was reflecting me.

  The realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. I sat there, stunned, as the pieces fell into place. “That’s how it works,” I said quietly, the words barely more than a whisper. “It feeds off perception. Off me.” I glanced down at my hands, flexing my claws absently. “What I feel, what I think—it’s shaping this place. Warping it…”

  A sharp, humorless laugh escaped me. “...just like I did back there.”

  The thought should have terrified me. And it did, a little. The idea that this entire place was a reflection of my mind, my emotions, my very being—it was too big, too much. But it also made sense. For the first time since I’d stepped into this nightmare, something made sense. And that was enough.

  I stood slowly, my legs still shaky, the rifle slung across my back feeling heavier than it should. The ache in my fingertips had dulled, its sharp rhythm fading into a faint hum that lingered beneath my skin. The ground beneath my boots pulsed faintly, but it was steady now, almost comforting in its consistency.

  I took a deep breath, steadying myself, and looked ahead. The path stretched out before me, twisting and looping as always, but it no longer felt like a trap. It felt navigable. I didn’t know where it led, and maybe that didn’t matter. What mattered was that it wasn’t hostile. Not anymore.

  “Alright,” I muttered, my voice firmer now, more grounded. “Let’s try this again.”

  I took a step forward, deliberate and calm, and the ground rippled faintly in response, the pulse steady beneath my feet. The buildings didn’t groan or shift threateningly this time—they simply stood, their alien forms casting faint, flickering shadows that no longer felt oppressive. Even the mist seemed to retreat, clinging to the edges of the street like it had decided I wasn’t worth the effort.

  The Nexus was still strange, still alien, but it wasn’t trying to consume me. It was listening. And for the first time, I was listening back.

  I pressed forward, my steps measured, my sharp eyes scanning the path ahead. Somewhere in the distance, faint but distinct, I felt the presence of the spire again. A quiet hum, a pulse in the fabric of the Nexus, drawing me deeper into its labyrinth. I didn’t know what I’d find, but I wasn’t walking blind anymore.

  The Nexus was watching. Waiting. And so was I.

  The streets ahead were calm now, or as calm as anything in the Nexus could be. The pulsing veins beneath his feet had settled into a slow, rhythmic thrum, and the shifting buildings no longer leaned in threateningly. Servius could feel it in the air—a faint sense of equilibrium. For the first time since he’d arrived in this place, the Nexus wasn’t fighting him. It wasn’t testing him, pushing him, or reflecting his panic. It was waiting.

  Servius walked forward with deliberate steps, his tail flicking slowly behind him. The act of moving felt different now, less like wandering through a maze and more like tracing the lines of a map he couldn’t quite see. The streets still twisted and looped, but they felt navigable—more like a series of choices than a chaotic snarl. The Nexus wasn’t just a place anymore. It was a conversation, a game of call and response, and Servius was starting to understand the rules.

  He glanced at the buildings around him, their strange, shifting surfaces rippling faintly in the pale light. Before, they had seemed threatening, almost alive in their alien hostility. Now, they felt... neutral. Passive. They were no longer bearing down on him, no longer pressing into his space. They just were.

  Servius’s sharp eyes narrowed as he studied one of the structures. Its surface shimmered faintly, like polished glass, reflecting the street behind him in distorted fragments. But there was something else there, just beneath the reflection—a flicker of movement, too faint to make out. He didn’t stop to investigate. He didn’t want to know. Not yet.

  Instead, he exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cool, warped air. “It’s not just survival anymore,” he murmured, his voice low but steady. “This place... it’s more than a trap. More than a test. It’s... something else.”

  The ache in his fingertips flared briefly, a sharp reminder of the spire’s resonance. He flexed his claws absently, the sensation fading into a faint hum that lingered in the background of his thoughts. Whatever had happened when he touched the spire, it had left a mark. Not just on the Nexus, but on him.

  For the first time, Servius allowed himself to stop. Not because he was forced to, not because he was cornered, but because he chose to. He sat down on the edge of a low wall, its surface soft and pliable beneath him, like stretched leather. His tail curled around his legs as he rested his rifle across his lap, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon.

  The sky above him churned with faint swirls of color, their movements slow and deliberate now, like the steady beat of a drum. It wasn’t as oppressive as before, but it wasn’t inviting either. It simply watched, reflecting the stillness he’d forced onto himself. He wondered, briefly, how much of this place had been shaped by others before him. How many had passed through, fought the Nexus, panicked, and been consumed by it?

  And how many had learned to listen instead of resist?

  Servius leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he stared into the distance. The faint hum of the Nexus was everywhere, a constant presence that seemed to vibrate in his chest. It wasn’t hostile. Not anymore. But it wasn’t comforting either. It was... waiting. For what, he didn’t know. Maybe for him to make the next move. Maybe for him to make a mistake.

  He smirked faintly, the expression barely reaching his sharp eyes. “You’re a quiet one, aren’t you?” he muttered, addressing the Nexus itself. “Not like the gods. They love their theatrics. But you... you’re subtle. I’ll give you that.”

  The Nexus didn’t respond, of course. But the streets seemed to shift faintly, their edges softening, as though acknowledging his words. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to confirm what he’d already suspected. This place wasn’t just alive—it was listening. And maybe, just maybe, it could be reasoned with. Or manipulated.

  Servius’s smirk widened slightly, a dry chuckle escaping him. “Fine,” he said softly. “You want to play? Let’s play.”

  He stood, his movements fluid, and adjusted the strap of his rifle. The ache in his fingertips had dulled to a faint tingle, barely noticeable now, but it was there—a reminder of the spire and whatever connection it had forged between him and the Nexus. He didn’t know what it meant yet, but he would figure it out. He always did.

  The path ahead twisted and looped, as always, but it no longer felt hostile. It was an invitation now, a challenge. Servius took a step forward, his sharp eyes fixed on the shifting horizon. The Nexus had changed, and so had he. Whether that was a good thing or not, he couldn’t say. But he knew one thing for certain:

  He wasn’t just walking through the Nexus anymore. He was walking with it.

  Somewhere in the distance, faint and indistinct, a new sound echoed—a low, resonant hum, like the ringing of a distant bell. It wasn’t the spire, but it was something, and it pulled at him, drawing him deeper into the town’s labyrinthine streets.

  Servius exhaled sharply, his claws flexing briefly at his sides. “Alright,” he muttered. “Let’s see where this goes.”

  And with that, he pressed forward, the shifting streets of the Nexus twisting and folding around him as he moved deeper into the unknown.

  https://youtu.be/6-GxqvgfuAU?si=r59AnrO2IFG5UdpI