The Walk
Midnight air was cold and unforgiving. The city slept, convinced it understood the world. I walked east, past the last lamp, beyond the comfort of walls and names.
The forest did not welcome me. It observed.
A figure stepped from the darkness, face hidden beneath a hood.
“Do you believe the world is governed by truth?” he asked.
I hesitated. Then answered honestly.
“No. I believe it is governed by illusion.”
The figure remained silent for a long moment.
“Then you are ready,” he said.
“Ready to forget what you think you know.”
He turned. I followed.
Illuminati breach 