It started with a twitch. A shift beneath Havana's toes — subtle, almost imperceptible. She froze mid-step, breath held. The atmosphere changed. The air no longer clung to her like heat, but like hands — invisible, greedy. The floor pulsed once underfoot, a tremor that passed through her bones like a warning.
Then the world shattered.
Without a moment to scream, her feet were jerked downward violently, as if the earth had sprouted claws and chosen her as its prey. She cried out, arms flailing, but gravity twisted — she was yanked with such force it felt like her spine would snap in two.
Through the cracking floor she plunged, not through dirt or stone, but through a void. A space without space. Cold and burning all at once. It swallowed her completely.
She fell.
There was no wind. No
