Transendance part 1

The video was dark at first, shaky—a dim backstage area lit by flickering candles. Then Cortney’s face filled the frame, her eyes glassy, lips parted in a dazed smile. “Bryce,” she whispered, her voice thick and slow. “You should see it… the way it feels...i want to fuck you ” The camera tilted, revealing the lead performer behind her, those unnatural fingers tracing the curve of her bare shoulder. His mouth was stained a deep, unnatural red. Bryce’s pulse roared in his ears.

Bryce’s throat went dry as the video cut to black. Another message popped up—not from Cortney this time, but an unknown number. "Tomorrow she transcends. You may come as well… since she loves you." The words curled into his brain like smoke. His reflection in the cracked phone screen looked hollow-eyed, haunted. Cortney’s voice echoed in his skull—I want to fuck you—and beneath the terror, something darker tugged at him., Bryce- but she the one that dumped me,

His fingers hovered over the keyboard, torn between fury and something sickeningly close to hunger. The unknown number sent another message before he could reply. "She remembers you. She craves you. And soon, tonight, after her trancendance, you will crave her too." Bryce’s stomach twisted.

Bryce’s phone buzzed again—another message sliding into view like a blade: "You’re not the only one invited tonight. All the loved ones of the chosen have been summoned… for their true transcendence." A photo followed: a dimly lit VIP lounge, velvet ropes cordoning off a sunken pit where figures writhed in slow, hypnotic undulations. Among them, faces Bryce recognized—the receptionist tina from last night, a woman who’d Their eyes were hazed, lips parted in eerie unison. AND blissBryce’s fingers trembled as he zoomed in. There, in the back, half-hidden behind a curtain of smoke, was Cortney. Her dress was gone, she was naked , masterbating.

Time passed in a sickening crawl. No more texts came—from Cortney, from the unknown number, from anyone. The silence was worse than the messages. Bryce paced his and Cortney’s hotel toom at the the ludwig, on isle de crime, the flyer for the final show crumpled in his fist. Tonight. Tonight she transcends. What the fuck that mean anyways. By the time dusk bled upon the isle, his nerves were raw. the memory of Cortney’s voice—I want to fuck you—clung to him, sticky and insistent. Yet truthful sounding. The festival grounds were already pulsing when he arrived. The air smelled of that sweet flowery smell already clouding his mind again.

Shadows stretched unnaturally long from the stage, where the same performers moved in slow, serpentine patterns. Their smiles were too wide, eyes gleaming like wet ink in the dim light. Bryce’s phone buzzed—one last message. "She’s waiting." A hand clamped onto his shoulder from behind. He spun, heart hammering, to face the lead performer—those black-red eyes inches from his own. Up close, the man’s skin had an unnatural sheen, like oil on water.and pale like a ghost.

The performer’s grip was ice-cold, his lips were unnaturally red—not from makeup, but something wet and glistening. "You resisted last time," the man murmured, his breath carrying the same cloying sweetness that clung to the air. "But tonight, you won’t." Bryce tried to wrench free, but his limbs moved sluggishly, as if swimming through syrup. The crowd around them swayed, their murmurs rising into that same guttural chant—"More, more, more." A hand slid into his, small and familiar. Cortney- you came..I'm glad, its almost time for my transendance

Her voice was dreamy, syrupy with pleasure, but her grip on his hand was firm. Bryce tried to focus on her face, but her pupils were hazy almost black.