Prologue

The city of Wolferton exhaled into the night, its pulse softened by a veil of fog that curled through the streets and neighborhoods like a whispered secret. It was past two in the morning, that hollow hour when even the most restless denizens had surrendered to sleep, leaving the world to hum in quiet solitude. Streetlights cast pale halos, their glow muted, as if reluctant to disturb the stillness. Through this muted tapestry moved a solitary figure, a shadow among shadows, their presence as fleeting as a half-remembered dream.

They wore a long coat, its edges frayed but elegant, blending seamlessly with the darkness. A hood obscured their face, revealing nothing—not a glint of eyes, not a curve of jaw. Their steps were measured, deliberate, yet left no echo on the damp pavement. In their gloved hand, they carried a small bundle of stickers, each one a perfect square of black, no larger than a postage stamp. At their center glowed a neon-green QR code, intricate and alive, framing a tiny skull icon that seemed to shimmer with a knowing light, subtle and inviting, like a secret waiting to be shared.

The figure paused beside a weathered newspaper box, its glass smudged with the city’s fingerprints. They tilted their head, as if listening to the night’s faint breath, then pressed a sticker to the box’s metal frame. The QR code pulsed once, faintly, as though acknowledging its new home. The figure moved on, their path unpredictable, guided by some unspoken logic. They placed another sticker on the smooth curve of a bicycle rack, its steel glinting under the fog’s caress. Another found its place on the chipped corner of a café’s outdoor sign, the kind that advertised lattes in chalky cursive. Each sticker was a quiet offering, scattered like stars across a constellation only the figure could see.