Salem blinked as the world around him warped again. The violet city from the last loop melted into a dusky landscape of familiar streets—but with a twist. Cars drove upside down. People walked sideways. Streetlights flickered erratically, some blinking in Morse code that made no sense, and others seemed to hum, almost sentient.
He groaned. “Every jump feels worse than the last…”
A voice, familiar but impossibly sardonic, crept into his mind.
> “Welcome back, Salem. I see you survived the loop. Impressive, in a fragile, human sort of way.”
“…The Writer?” Salem muttered, rubbing his temples. “Or are you… something else this time?”
> “Call me your guide. Or tormentor. Or both. Titles are meaningless in fractured timelines.”
Salem sighed. He had learned by now that arguing with the
