The glass doors part with a low hiss. Inside, the air is cool, tinted with the glow of empty neon signs and the steady hum of escalators. The mall feels alive, but no one is here.
Black marble floors shine with reflections of storefronts. Each shop glows faintly with its own light — burnt orange, pale white, flickers of red. Food trays steam in the court, untouched, and reset each time you blink.
The intercom crackles to life overhead:
“Attention shoppers… closing time… closing time…”
But the mall never closes.
They say if you walk the upper level long enough, the windows will stop showing Amberveil and instead reveal a city skyline you’ve never seen before — endless towers glowing at midnight.