Ash Reforged

Ash walked into the city.

But it was no longer just a city.

It was frequency.

It was memory.

It was hunger wrapped in neon.

Every face he passed was a mirror with static—each person carrying invisible storms: grief behind mascara, rage behind office smiles, yearning behind silence.

He didn't see this.

He felt it.

The integration of the Hunter had sharpened his instinct—

Not to stalk prey,

but to feel pain.

He passed a street musician.

Each strum of the guitar triggered a wave—sadness. Not his.

A woman holding her child—terror. Hidden well, but not from him.

A man on his phone, laughing—despair beneath.

His chest grew heavy.

Was this his gift?

Or punishment?

Then she appeared.

Young, in grey. Hair tangled like neglect.

She followed him. Not closely, but with precision.

Not physically.

Energetically.

She resonated.

And she was unraveling.

Ash turned into a side alley.

Paused.

Let the frequencies catch up.

She arrived behind him, then dropped to her knees.

No words.

Just trembling.

Like her soul was disintegrating through her breath.

Ash didn't speak.

He knelt. Let his hand hover above her shoulder—not touching, just vibrating.

He let his breath guide his frequency, like he had in silence.

He wasn't healing her.

He was offering stability.

A tuning fork in the noise.

She looked up.

Tears streamed. But her breath slowed.

The tremor stopped.

Her gaze was wide—but not afraid.

Ash saw it:

Recognition.

Not of him.

But of the place within her that matched the place within him.

She whispered.

"What are you?"

He smiled faintly.

"A mirror.

And a silence."

They didn't speak further.

She stood. Nodded. Walked away.

But Ash remained.

The city wasn't just noise anymore.

It was listening.

And he was learning how to respond.

To be continued…