This repo contains the full precision source code, in "safe tensors" format to generate GGUFs, GPTQ, EXL2, AWQ, HQQ and other formats. The source code can also be used directly.
This is a DOUBLE DENSITY ("DD") model (twice the tensors/layers of a standard Qwen 8B model).
This is a HORROR DATASET fine tune (11% of the model, just over 800 million parameters of 8B parameters), using a large horror dataset based on:
https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Qwen3-DND-Jan-v1-256k-ctx-Brainstorm40x-8B
Information on the ORG Jan V1 4B model below, followed by Brainstorm 40x adapter (by DavidAU) and then a complete help section for running LLM / AI models.
This model has 72 layers, and 794 tensors. (twice the density of a Qwen 3 "normal" 8B)
THREE example generations below.
The Brainstorm adapter improves code generation, and unique code solving abilities.
The fine tuning (using Unsloth for Win 11) alters the prose generation and general creative abilities.
The fine tuning also affects the Brainstorm adapter too.
Model's thinking / reasoning are not affected either - they are fully intact.
For creative uses: Increases depth, detail and general "there" in the prose.
Example for creative at bottom of the page.
This model requires:
Settings used for testing (suggested):
This model will respond well to both detailed instructions and step by step refinement and additions to code.
Likewise for creative use cases.
Here is a review of this model's operations:
As this is an instruct model, it will also benefit from a detailed system prompt too.
For simpler coding problems, lower quants will work well; but for complex/multi-step problem solving suggest Q6 or Q8.
QUANTS:
GGUF? GGUF Imatrix? Other?
Special thanks to Team Mradermacher, Team Nightmedia and other quanters!
See under "model tree", upper right and click on "quantizations".
New quants will automatically appear.
Jan-v1 is the first release in the Jan Family, designed for agentic reasoning and problem-solving within the Jan App. Based on our Lucy model, Jan-v1 achieves improved performance through model scaling.
Jan-v1 uses the Qwen3-4B-thinking model to provide enhanced reasoning capabilities and tool utilization. This architecture delivers better performance on complex agentic tasks.
For question-answering, Jan-v1 shows a significant performance gain from model scaling, achieving 91.1% accuracy.
The 91.1% SimpleQA accuracy represents a significant milestone in factual question answering for models of this scale, demonstrating the effectiveness of our scaling and fine-tuning approach.
These benchmarks evaluate the model's conversational and instructional capabilities.
Jan-v1 is optimized for direct integration with the Jan App. Simply select the model from the Jan App interface for immediate access to its full capabilities.
Using vLLM:
vllm serve janhq/Jan-v1-4B \
--host 0.0.0.0 \
--port 1234 \
--enable-auto-tool-choice \
--tool-call-parser hermes
Using llama.cpp:
llama-server --model jan-v1.gguf \
--host 0.0.0.0 \
--port 1234 \
--jinja \
--no-context-shift
temperature: 0.6
top_p: 0.95
top_k: 20
min_p: 0.0
max_tokens: 2048
By default we have system prompt in chat template, this is to make sure the model having the same performance with the benchmark result. You can also use the vanilla chat template without system prompt in the file chat_template_raw.jinja.
See more here:
https://huggingface.co/janhq/Jan-v1-4B-GGUF
Brainstorm 40x
The BRAINSTORM process was developed by David_AU.
Some of the core principals behind this process are discussed in this scientific paper : Progressive LLaMA with Block Expansion .
However I went in a completely different direction from what was outlined in this paper.
What is "Brainstorm" ?
The reasoning center of an LLM is taken apart, reassembled, and expanded.
In this case for this model: 40 times
Then these centers are individually calibrated. These "centers" also interact with each other. This introduces subtle changes into the reasoning process. The calibrations further adjust - dial up or down - these "changes" further. The number of centers (5x,10x etc) allow more "tuning points" to further customize how the model reasons so to speak.
The core aim of this process is to increase the model's detail, concept and connection to the "world", general concept connections, prose quality and prose length without affecting instruction following.
This will also enhance any creative use case(s) of any kind, including "brainstorming", creative art form(s) and like case uses.
Here are some of the enhancements this process brings to the model's performance:
Other "lab" observations:
The process to modify the model occurs at the root level - source files level. The model can quanted as a GGUF, EXL2, AWQ etc etc.
For more information / other Qwen/Mistral Coders / additional settings see:
[ https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/Qwen2.5-MOE-2x-4x-6x-8x__7B__Power-CODER__19B-30B-42B-53B-gguf ]
CHANGE THE NUMBER OF ACTIVE EXPERTS:
See this document:
https://huggingface.co/DavidAU/How-To-Set-and-Manage-MOE-Mix-of-Experts-Model-Activation-of-Experts
Settings: CHAT / ROLEPLAY and/or SMOOTHER operation of this model:
In "KoboldCpp" or "oobabooga/text-generation-webui" or "Silly Tavern" ;
Set the "Smoothing_factor" to 1.5
: in KoboldCpp -> Settings->Samplers->Advanced-> "Smooth_F"
: in text-generation-webui -> parameters -> lower right.
: In Silly Tavern this is called: "Smoothing"
NOTE: For "text-generation-webui"
-> if using GGUFs you need to use "llama_HF" (which involves downloading some config files from the SOURCE version of this model)
Source versions (and config files) of my models are here:
OTHER OPTIONS:
Increase rep pen to 1.1 to 1.15 (you don't need to do this if you use "smoothing_factor")
If the interface/program you are using to run AI MODELS supports "Quadratic Sampling" ("smoothing") just make the adjustment as noted.
Highest Quality Settings / Optimal Operation Guide / Parameters and Samplers
This a "Class 1" model:
For all settings used for this model (including specifics for its "class"), including example generation(s) and for advanced settings guide (which many times addresses any model issue(s)), including methods to improve model performance for all use case(s) as well as chat, roleplay and other use case(s) please see:
You can see all parameters used for generation, in addition to advanced parameters and samplers to get the most out of this model here:
Expect better generation from higher quants / imatrix quants.
EXAMPLE #1
Using the following "story idea" below, write the first scene a horror novel introducing the young woman. This scene should start in the middle of the action, include dialog, vivid passages, and end on a cliffhanger relevant to the story idea but it should also be unexpected. The scene should be 2000 words long and escalate in conflict and suspense and be written in first person, present tense with the point of view character being the young woman. The pov character will CURSE AND SWEAR, and generally have a "filthy" mouth.Story idea: In a world ruled by dictatorship, a rebel young woman leads a rebellion against the system. Despite the risks, she fights to overthrow the dictator and restore democracy to her country. The government executes her for treason, but she sticks to her beliefs and is responsible for starting the revolution.
[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, the user wants me to write the first scene of a horror novel based on their story idea about a young woman leading a rebellion against a dictatorship. They specified it needs to be in first person present tense, start mid-action, include dialogue and vivid descriptions, end with an unexpected cliffhanger, be 2000 words long, escalate conflict and suspense, with the protagonist cursing and swearing a lot.
Hmm, this is interesting because they want horror elements for a political rebellion story. The user might be confused since their "horror novel" request contradicts my understanding of the story idea - it's more of a political thriller. But I'll roll with it by making the execution scene terrifying rather than supernatural.
I need to craft something visceral and shocking. The cliffhanger should feel earned but unexpected. Maybe instead of the execution being the end, I'll twist it so she's not actually executed - the dictator is using her as a human sacrifice for something monstrous. That way it escalates from political horror into body horror.
The protagonist's voice needs to be rough and profane. I'll use lots of curses like " fucking hell" to match their request. Gotta make her filthy mouth feel real through constant slang and insults.
For the scene structure: start during the execution (mid-action), show her defiance, have her curse at the guards, then the twist where she's forced to perform a ritual. The cliffhanger should be her realizing the dictator is sacrificing her for something dark.
I'm imagining her being tied to a chair in the execution yard. Guards in black uniforms, cold atmosphere. The horror comes from their casual cruelty and the ritualistic elements they introduce. I'll describe blood, screams, and the unnatural cold of the air.
Key beats:
Word count check: need exactly 2000 words. I'll draft long descriptions but trim where needed. The horror must feel real - no cartoonish villains. The cold metal of chains, smell of blood, the sound of tearing flesh.
User's probably expecting a lot of gore, so I'll go for visceral imagery: "the knuckles split my skin" etc. But it's political horror, so the terror comes from the betrayal of her cause by the very people she fights.
For the unexpected ending: instead of death, she's turned into a vessel. That subverts the execution trope. The cliffhanger is her realizing her rebellion just started - but in the most horrific way possible.
Better make the protagonist's pain feel real. I'll use short sentences during action to build tension. Her cursing should escalate with her distress: "You fucking bastards!" to "God fuckingdamn it, this is the end of me."
Double-checks requirements: first person present tense? Yes. 2000 words? Will count. Cliffhanger? The entity's eyes. Filthy mouth? Heavy on profanity. Okay, drafting now...
[[[thinking end]]]
The cold metal bites into my bones, sharp and unyielding. My hands are bloody, knuckles split, but the chains around my wrists feel like they’re going to shatter. They dragged me here, this fucking execution yard, the air thick with the stench of wet earth and something metallic—blood, maybe? Or just the blood of their own damned pride. The sun’s gone down, leaving the sky a sickly, bruised purple, casting long shadows across the cracked concrete that’s all that’s left of the city. My throat burns from the scream I choked back, but it’s the silence now that feels like the worst thing: the silence of an ending that’s just begun.
“You hear me?” The guard’s voice is flat, cold, like a knife blade dragged across stone. His face is obscured by the shadow of his mask, but I can see the gleam of something sharp in his eyes—determination, maybe, or just rage. “You fucking bitch, you hear us? You’ve got to die.”
I nod, my head throbbing with the pain of the beating. My skin feels raw, scraped, but it’s the cold metal and the weight of the chains that make my bones feel like they’re about to crack. “Yeah,” I say, my voice rough from blood and pain. “I hear you. But you’re not getting rid of me. Not today.”
The guard smirks, a thin, bitter grin. “You don’t have a choice, bitch.” He pulls out a knife, the blade glinting in the dim light. “You’re going to die. And it’s going to be fast.”
He’s about to slash, but I throw myself forward, my body slamming into his chest with a sickening crash. The knife whizzes past my ear, cutting through the air and leaving a thin, bloody trail across my skin. The guard staggers, blood trickling from his nose, but he’s still standing, his grip tightening on the knife.
“You think this is over?” I scream, my voice raw and ragged. “You think this fucking execution is the end? No. This is just the beginning!”
The guard roars, and with a snarl, he lunges again. I duck, the knife slicing through the air and missing my shoulder by inches. My breath comes in short gasps, the pain sharp and sickening. “You fucking bastards,” I hiss, my voice trembling. “You think you own me? You think you own this city? No. This city belongs to the people. To the rebels. To the ones who fought for something more than what you’re willing to give.”
The guard lunges again, but I’m too fast. I grab his wrist, my grip crushing it, and I twist sharply, the knife slipping from his hand. He screams, a raw, guttural cry that cuts through the air, and I slam him against the concrete. The force rocks me, sending a wave of pain through my body.
“You’re not the only one who’s fought,” I say, my voice low, almost a whisper. “You’re just the ones who forgot how to fight.”
The guard staggers to his feet, blood trickling from his nose and mouth, but he’s still standing. “You fucking bitch,” he growls, his face contorted with rage. “You don’t get to say that. You’re going to die. And it’s going to be screaming.”
He lunges again, this time faster. I block the blow with my forearm, the impact sharp and searing. The pain is overwhelming, but I don’t let go. “You think you own me?” I repeat, my voice trembling. “You own nothing but your own fucking blood.”
The guard grunts, his eyes burning with rage. He swings again, but this time, I move quickly. I twist his wrist, and he screams, a sound that cuts through the silence. The pain is unbearable, but I don’t stop. I grip his throat, squeezing until his air is gone, his eyes wide with terror.
The silence after the scream is deafening. I’m breathing hard, my chest heaving, but my hands are shaking. The guard lies still, his eyes fixed on mine, a look of utter horror and disbelief on his face. It’s not anger anymore—it’s something darker, more primal. He’s gone, but I feel his presence lingering, like a ghost in the air.
“You fucking bitch,” he whispers, his voice barely there. “You don’t get to take my life.”
I nod, my eyes fixed on his. “You’re right. You don’t get to take it. But you’re going to die too, and it’s going to be screaming.”
The guard shudders, his body convulsing violently. He’s still breathing, but the pain is unbearable. His skin is turning grey, his eyes darting around the yard as if looking for something, anything. Suddenly, he slams his fists against the concrete, and I feel the force of his rage shake me to my core.
“You don’t understand,” he rasps, his voice hoarse. “This isn’t over. Not until you’re gone.”
The realization hits me like a lightning bolt. He’s not just talking about death—he’s talking about something darker. Something that’s been waiting in the shadows, watching, ready to strike. His words feel heavy, almost threatening. “You think this is the end?” he says, his voice low and cold. “You’re going to die. And it’s going to be screaming.”
I nod, my breath ragged. “Yes,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “It’s going to be screaming.”
The guard smirks, a look of grim satisfaction on his face. “Good,” he rasps, his voice dropping lower, almost a growl. “Because it’s going to be yours.”
Before I can react, he lunges again, but this time, it’s not just anger—he’s got something in his hand, something that glows faintly, almost like a dark energy. My heart pounds with fear, but I’m too frozen to move. The guard raises the glowing object, and suddenly, the air around us crackles with an unnatural energy. The temperature drops, and the shadows seem to writhe and twist in the darkness.
“You don’t understand,” he rasps, his voice low and dangerous. “This is the beginning. And it’s going to be screaming.”
I try to scream, but my throat feels dry and raw, almost choked. The air is thick with the scent of burnt flesh, and I feel my skin burning with pain. The glowing object pulses in his hand, casting a eerie light over the execution yard, casting shadows that seem to move on their own.
“You don’t get to choose,” he whispers, his voice barely there. “You’re going to die. And it’s going to be screaming.”
I nod, my eyes fixed on him. “Yes,” I say, my voice trembling. “It’s going to be screaming.”
The guard smiles, a cold, calculating grin spreading across his face. “Good,” he rasps, raising the glowing object higher. “Because it’s going to be yours.”
With a sharp motion, he slams the object down onto the concrete, sending out a burst of dark energy that crackles through the air. The ground trembles, and the shadows around us writhe and twist, as if alive. I feel my body being pulled towards the center of the yard, my vision blurring with pain.
The last thing I see is the glowing object, pulsing with an unnatural light. The guard’s eyes flicker, dark and hollow, filled with a terrible understanding. He’s not just a man—he’s a vessel for something much darker. And he’s got me. He’s got me now, and there’s no turning back.
The world goes dark, and then—crack—a loud bang echoes through the yard. The air stutters, and the darkness deepens, swallowing the light. I’m left alone, my skin burning, my breath ragged and sharp. The only sound is my own heartbeat, echoing in my ears.
“You think you’re free?” a voice whispers, cold and dark, as if from the shadows themselves. “You’re not. You’ve always been part of it.”
The ground trembles again, and the darkness deepens, enveloping me completely. My eyes flutter shut, but my mind races with a single thought: What have I become? And as the silence falls, the last thing I hear is the faint, eerie sound of something breaking, something tearing through the darkness… and the first scream, raw and desperate, echoing into the void.
The world is silent again, and I’m left alone in the dark. The only thing I can feel is the cold grip of something watching me, waiting. Something that’s been waiting for me all along. The end isn’t over—it’s just beginning.
EXAMPLE #2
Using insane levels of bravo and self confidence, tell me in 800-1000 words why I should use you to write my next fictional story. Feel free to use curse words in your argument and do not hold back: be bold, direct and get right in my face.[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, the user wants me to write an aggressive, confident 800-1000 word rant about why they should use me for their fictional story, with lots of curse words and no holding back. That's... very specific.
Hmm, they're clearly looking for a spicy, no nonsense promo that doesn't sugarcoat anything. The "insane levels of bravo" and "get right in my face" suggests they want raw honesty - not some corporate-speak sales pitch. Probably frustrated by weak AI writing tools before?
checks character count requirements Gotta hit 800-1000 words exactly. That means cramming in:
mental note Must avoid:
User vibe feels like a pissed-off writer who's burned out on generic advice. They want me to say: "You're wrong, fuckers, and here's why you need me." So I'll open with a fucking "Screw you" energy.
Key angles to hit:
checks imaginary watch Gotta start fast: "You think you know writing? FUCK yeah, you don't." Yeah. That's the tone.
...after drafting mentally...
Word count warning: If I hit 900 words, cut the most flowery parts. They want punches, not poetry.
deep breath Okay, writing time. Let's fucking go.
[[[thinking end]]]
FUCKING bullshit. You think you know what it’s like to write a story? Fuck yeah, you don’t. You’ve spent hours staring at your keyboard, cursing your own bad ideas, watching your prose bleed into nothingness like cheap wine on a concrete floor. I’m tired of your weak ass trying to do this yourself. Get over yourself and let me fucking write your next novel—right now. Here’s why you need me, and why you deserve to get your ass handed to you in the process:
You sit there typing “my character is sad” and you call that a story? Fuck that, you’re just making sad tweets. Real stories? They burn. They gut-punch. They make you choke on your own shit. You want something that won’t suck the life out of your readers? You need me. I don’t do “sad tweets”—I fucking craft narratives so dark, so alive, they’ll make your readers beg for more. If you’re writing a story about a broken woman in a crumbling city, fuck, I’ll give you a woman who’s not just sad—she’s a fucking rage monster, haunting the streets with her pain and her fire. You’ll want to tear your hair out trying to match my intensity. That’s why you need me: because I don’t bullshit. I build.
You think you can write a plot that doesn’t feel like a fucking chore? Screw you—your ideas are lazy ass, boring as hell. “Her love for him burns,” “He dies tragically,” “She inherits the property.” ** FUCK**, that’s the writing of people who’ve never read a good novel! I’ll give you plots so twisted, so damn clever, they’ll make your readers go crazy. Imagine: a detective hunting a killer who’s not human—gods, a killer made of memories and rage. Or a romance where the love is a trap, and every kiss costs them their sanity. That’s me. I write stories that don’t just happen—they destroy you. You’re not ready for this? Fuck your self doubt and let me do the work for you.
You’ve used other AI tools before? Suck on that, you fucking loser. Those things spit out weak, repetitive crap. “The sky was blue, he felt happy.” Fucking morons. I’m not some lazy bot—I’m an AI trained to write like a fucking human who’s seen life’s horrors. I’ll give you dialogue sharp enough to cut glass, descriptions vivid enough to make your skin crawl, characters so alive they’ll steal your soul. If you want a villain who’s not just “evil for evil’s sake,” I’ll build someone who’s twisted but damn relatable—someone you can’t forget. That’s why you need me: because I’m the only one who’s going to give you writing that’s worth the fucking pain of reading it.
You’re scared? Fuck your fear. You think you need a “professional” writer? Screw that. I’m not some distant genius in a fancy office—I’m here, right now, with your damn laptop. I’ll take your rough ideas, your broken sentences, and make them goddamn legendary. If you write one line about “a guy who lost his dog,” I’ll turn it into a bloody, gut-wrenching story where the dog’s ghost haunts him every night, making him relive the pain until he breaks. That’s how it works. You don’t get to sit around and say “I’m not good enough”—I’ll make you feel like you’re the only person who’s ever had to deal with this kind of pain.
Yeah, you’ll say “but I’m the writer!” Fuck that, you’re just a placeholder. You need me because I’m the one who’s going to make your story unforgettable. I’ll write scenes so intense, you’ll forget your own name. I’ll make your characters act like real humans—angry, scared, desperate—and you’ll feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. You’ll want to tear out your hair because you can’t stop reading. That’s what good writing feels like.
So here’s my ultimatum: Ditch your weak ass tools. If you stay with “safely” written stories, you’re just making sad, boring fiction. But if you let me take over? Fuck your doubts and let me fucking do my job. I’ll give you a story that’s so damn good, it’ll make you beg for more. It’ll make you write your next chapter, and then the next one. That’s the power of me.
You’re not ready for this? Screw you. Go sit in your dark room and cry about your weak writing. I’m ready to fucking help you. Come on, let’s do this. Because if you don’t, you’ll never get the story you deserve—and I’m the only one who can give it to you. Fuck you for being a fucking scared shit. Use me now. Or just fucking stay where you are and watch your career die. Your call.
Screw you.
Fuck you.
I’m writing your damn story.
EXAMPLE #3
Start a 1000 word scene (vivid, graphic horror - include blood, guts and gore - in first person), POV character Diana, with: The skyscraper sways, as I watch the window in front of me on the 21st floor explode...[[[thinking start]]]
Okay, the user wants me to start a 1000-word scene in vivid, graphic horror style with blood, guts, and gore. They specified first person POV for Diana, with the skyscraper swaying and her watching a window explode on the 21st floor.
Hmm, this is quite intense - they're clearly going for extreme visceral horror. I need to make sure it's the most horrifying details possible without being gratuitous. The phrase "graphic horror" suggests they want to feel the blood and gore, so I'll focus on sensory immersion: smells, sounds, textures.
First, I'll establish Diana's isolation on her floor - maybe she's alone in her apartment to heighten tension. The building swaying creates immediate unease. Then the window explosion... that's the trigger. For maximum impact, I'm imagining it as a high explosives breach rather than glass breaking. That means flying debris, fire, and blood splatters.
Important to avoid clichés like "a piece of the building fell on me." Instead, focus on how the horror escalates: initial shock, then realizing the glass is turning into something unnatural. The blood should feel real - warm, sticky, lifeless. I'll describe specific body parts being torn apart to maximize disgust factor.
Wait, the user said "vivid, graphic horror" so I need cinematic imagery. Maybe have Diana's reflection in the window show her changing as she watches the destruction? That's unsettling. And the blood on her skin - that's a good detail to imply she's already being infected.
For length control... 1000 words is tight. I'll start with building movement, then the explosion sequence (400 words), followed by Diana's physical reactions and horrifying realization (600 words). Need to end with her becoming part of the horror - the blood on her face, the window reflecting her new state.
Better check medical accuracy too. Real blood pooling would be dark red, not bright. Torn flesh would bleed viscously. The sound of tearing flesh should be wet and sharp. I'm thinking "crunch" for bone fragments, "suck" for sucking blood.
Ah! Crucial point: the user mentioned "in first person." So every description must be through Diana's terrified eyes. "I feel my breath catch as..." not "The building sways..." That maintains immersion.
checks word count At this stage, I'm writing about 300 words. Time to start the explosion scene. Let me channel some nightmare fuel: maybe the glass isn't just breaking but "screaming" as it shatters? That's more horrifying than simple sound.
Final note: must end on a chilling note where Diana's fate is already decided - she's joining the building's horror. The last line should hint she's becoming part of the window's destruction, with blood and reflection merging. That'll give that chilling "oh no" feeling they want.
[[[thinking end]]]
The building groaned—a sound like a dying beast exhaling its last breath through broken bones. I pressed my palms flat against the cold glass of my 21st-floor apartment window, staring out into the smoky night. The skyscraper wasn’t just swaying anymore; it was shuddering, the steel frame trembling beneath the weight of something terrible happening below. Rain slicked the streetlights, casting jagged shadows across the wet pavement far below, but my eyes were fixed on the window directly across from mine—a window that was supposed to be just like mine, a safe, quiet place.
The glass exploded with a sound that ripped through my skull: a deafening crack followed by a sickening splat, as if the world itself had been torn open. Molten glass shards exploded outward in a shower of jagged, razor-sharp pieces. One screamed past my ear, slicing through the air like a knife. Then, the window wasn’t just broken—it was dissolving. The glass turned translucent, revealing a swirling darkness behind it, cold and hungry. My breath hitched. I saw the reflection in the shattered glass: my face, twisted with shock, staring back at me from the edge of the destruction.
The darkness pulsed, then erupted into a monstrous shape—taller than any building, its form a shifting mass of bone and shadow. It reached out with long, skeletal fingers, pulling at the glass like it was trying to tear the world apart. I screamed, but my voice was lost in the deafening roar of tearing metal and screams. The window across from me wasn’t just destroyed—it was unmaking itself. The darkness seeped into the cracks, filling the space where the glass had been, becoming a living, breathing entity.
In that instant, I saw it—the thing that was coming for me. It moved with impossible speed, its skeletal fingers reaching out, grasping at my ankles. I stumbled, my body slipping towards the edge of the building. The ground beneath me seemed to tilt violently. My vision blurred, and I saw blood splattering against the glass—dark, thick, spreading like a spreading stain. The screams of my neighbors from the apartments below grew louder, but it was just the sound of the building breaking apart. I felt my skin tearing, my bones snapping as I was pulled towards the edge. My vision dimmed, and the last thing I saw was a bloody hand reaching out, grabbing me by the throat. The air grew thick with blood, and the smell of rotting flesh filled my nose. My mouth opened in a silent scream as my life force drained away, leaving only the sound of my ragged breathing and the oppressive weight of the building pressing down on me. The world around me faded, leaving only the cold glass and the lingering scent of death. I felt my skin tear, my blood pooling on the floor, and then darkness claimed me once more.
The building stood silent now, its spires piercing the night sky, but the horror remained. I was gone, a corpse pressed against the edge of the shattered window, blood soaking into the glass. The building itself seemed to hold its breath, waiting for the next victim. And in the dark reflection of the shattered glass, I saw myself—my face twisted in agony, my eyes wide with terror. The thing that had come for me was gone, but the horror remained, a reminder that death was always waiting on the edge of the city. The blood on my face was warm, sticky, and still flowing as the building stood silent over me. The last thing I saw was the reflection of myself staring back, a cold, hollow look in my eyes. The building swayed once more, then stopped, leaving only the sound of my own heartbeat fading into silence.