ASH AND NEON

The alley smelled of wet asphalt, spray paint, and something acrid that burned Jace Arden’s throat. Neon lights flickered overhead, throwing jagged shadows across cracked walls, and somewhere nearby, a train rumbled like a beast in a cage.

Jace crouched low, can of black spray in hand, fingers trembling, not from fear, but anticipation. His latest piece was almost finished: a twisting, screaming face painted across the brick, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Stop staring at it like it’s alive,” he muttered to himself.

Except it was. The moment he pulled back, stepping to admire his work, a low whisper curled through the alley, soft at first, then rising like wind through a graveyard.

“He saw… he saw… he saw…”

Jace froze. His eyes darted along the wall. Nothing. Just bricks, mortar, and the smear of neon paint.

Then the whisper turned to voices, snippets of conversations, secrets buried deep in the minds of anyone who had passed by. A man’s shame. A woman’s fear. A child’s memory he didn’t recognize, yet somehow felt like his own.

He blinked, thinking he’d lost it. Heart hammering, he reached for his hood, but the air itself seemed thick, alive, vibrating with the confessions of the city.

And then he saw him, a shadow hunched at the far end of the alley, just beyond the flickering glow of a busted neon sign.

“Who’s there?” Jace called, voice sharper than he intended. No answer. Only the whispers.

The shadow stepped forward, and a cold laugh slipped from between cracked lips. “You’re too talented to hide in shadows, kid.”

Jace’s pulse quickened. He recognized that voice, not human, not ordinary. Controlled. Predatory.

Before he could react, the figure stepped into the dim light. A man in a tailored black coat, face obscured by the hood of his leather jacket. His presence was suffocating, like the city itself was pressing down on Jace’s chest.

“Lumen,” Jace whispered.

The man tilted his head. “You know who I am. Good. Means you’ve survived this long… but surviving isn’t enough anymore.”

Something clicked in Jace’s stomach, a primal warning. He dropped the spray can and backed up. The mural’s screaming eyes seemed to shiver, twisting. A faint glow rippled from the paint as though the face itself was breathing.

“Your little art project… it isn’t just paint, is it?” the man said. His voice was silk over steel. “It sees. It remembers. And it will tell me everything I need to know.”

Jace swallowed, tasting blood. He had no choice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Lies,” the man said, advancing a step. The bricks behind him pulsed, memories leaking like smoke. A child crying. A lover betrayed. A man murdered in his own kitchen. All flashing in impossible rhythm.

Jace’s stomach churned. It’s feeding them… His murals didn’t just reflect memories, they extracted them, displayed them, and now they were leaking. And Lumen knew exactly what he’d done.

“You’re coming with me,” the man said.

Jace bolted. Spray can forgotten, boots pounding the slick pavement, heart hammering. The alley stretched on endlessly, twisting like a snake, but the shadow behind him stayed steady. Silent. Patient. Unrelenting.

He turned a corner, and froze. A mural, one he hadn’t painted, glowed across the wall. Neon lines formed a face he knew too well. His own. And it was screaming.

“You can’t run… not from yourself…”

The shadow stepped forward into the light. The hood fell back. Cold blue eyes met his. Lumen’s eyes. And in that instant, Jace knew the city was no longer just a playground, it was a trap. Every secret, every fear he’d ever stolen, was now watching him.

And it was hungry. Jace clenched his fists. He had fought for survival his whole life. But tonight… survival might not be enough.

The mural’s mouth stretched impossibly wide, whispering a truth he wasn’t ready to hear. “You made me. Now I will make you.”

Jace ran. But the city was alive. And the walls remembered everything.