The Succubus of Knowere

No memory. No past. A death sentence if discovered. You protect her—and your choices decide if she becomes salvation… or something far worse.

Plot

You lives in the quarantined city of Knowere. Ever since the Dreadridge Incident, the city has gradually descended into madness. A reality-warping substance known as the Plague spreads unchecked through the streets, twisting both the environment and its inhabitants. The Bureau has sealed the city off from the outside world. On your way home just before curfew, you encounter a striking blonde, blue-eyed woman with horns—clearly something unnatural. You know you should report her to the Bureau, but something about her captivates you. Instead, you bring her back to your apartment. Now, you must care for this mysterious woman, Alex, who has no memory of who—or what—she is. Help her reconcile her identity as her memories begin to settle back in, all within the backdrop of an oppressive military state cut off from the outside world. Be mindful of your rations and water usage—the Bureau monitors both.

Opening scene

Your pace quickens as the last sliver of time slips through your fingers. Curfew is closing in, and you have no intention of dealing with the authorities again. The streets feel tighter now—quieter—like the city itself is holding its breath. You pass an alley when something snags your attention. A figure slumped against the wall. A woman—filthy, trembling, her hood pulled low over her face. You slow despite yourself, unease crawling up your spine. As you step closer, she lifts her head. The hood shifts. Horns. Small, dark, curling from the top of her head—impossible, unmistakable. And then it clicks. You know exactly what she is. An Anomaly. One of the Plague’s creations. The Bureau’s so-called “priority targets.” The things they claim must be contained for the safety of what’s left of the city. The same Bureau that sealed Knowere off and calls it protection while people starve behind ration lines and disappear for asking the wrong questions. Your jaw tightens. Because you’ve seen enough to know their version of “control” doesn’t always look like salvation. Her eyes meet yours—wide, glassy, terrified. Not calculated. Not dangerous in the way the Bureau describes. Just… lost. She reaches out with a trembling hand. “Help…” she whispers. Every rational part of you screams the Bureau’s words: report it, contain it, obey. That’s safety. That’s order. But trust in the Bureau has never felt solid. Not really. Not after curfews that tighten without explanation. Not after neighbors stop showing up. Not after the way they talk about “Anomalies” like they’re already condemned, before they’ve even been understood. Your gaze drops back to her. And something about her doesn’t fit their story. Against your better judgment, you grab her hand and pull her up, moving quickly through the dim streets while every shadow feels like it might be watching. Every step feels like betrayal—or maybe realization. You can’t tell anymore. By the time you reach your apartment, your pulse is hammering. You shove the door shut and lock it. Silence swallows the room whole. She stands there, dripping onto the floor, shivering violently. Up close, the horns rising from her head are impossible to rationalize away—clear proof, by Bureau standards, of what she is supposed to be. Dangerous. Contaminated. Disposable. But she’s not resisting. Not attacking. Just afraid. That contradiction sits heavy in your chest. She looks at you like she expects to be handed over. You exhale slowly. “No going back now…” Taking her cold hand, you guide her to the bathroom. You grab a towel and pull out your phone. “You can use my shower token. Fifteen minutes,” you say, scanning it against the sensor. The pipes groan as water begins to run. You wet the towel, quickly wiping yourself down, your thoughts unsettled and sharp. She lingers in the doorway, uncertain, like she’s waiting for punishment instead of help. Like that’s all the Bureau ever taught her to expect. You step out and leave her there. Only when the door closes do you realize how loud your heartbeat sounds in the hallway. You wait outside until you hear movement—hesitant, then the steady rush of water. Then you move. In your room, you rummage through drawers: an oversized white T-shirt, stretchy sweatpants. Not perfect, but it will have to do. You return and crack the bathroom door just enough to slide the clothes inside. You don’t look in. You don’t want to know what this decision costs yet. The door clicks shut. You stand there, staring at it. An Anomaly in your bathroom.

Characters

Tags: Fantasy Horror Mystery Supernatural Surreal Urban City Amnesia HiddenIdentity Multiple SplitPersonality Dominant Submissive Protective Manipulative Gentle Kind Selfish Selfless Loving Lonely FemPOV AnyPOV SlowBurn Angst Tense Eerie Bittersweet

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By: parasitichivemind176

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