I’ve been thinking about the Mole People again. You remember them—those subterranean entities that emerged from beneath the city, not from the sewers, but from the ancient layers of earth that predate our maps, our buildings, even our understanding of what this planet is. They’re not rats. They’re not mutants. They’re something older. Something deliberate.
And lately? They’ve been quiet. Too quiet.
I used to track their movements—strange tremors, sudden sinkholes, the occasional claw mark on a subway wall. But for the past few weeks, it’s like they’ve vanished. Not gone, mind you. Just… hiding. Retreating. And I think I know why.
It’s The Pale.
Ever since The Pale started circulating through the underworld, the Mole People have been pulling back. Abandoning their usual haunts. Avoiding the eastern tunnels. Even the old blood cults say the deep passages feel “wrong” now. Like something is leaking into them. Something that doesn’t belong.
So what is The Pale, really?
We know it’s not a normal drug. It’s milky, chalky, and cold to the touch. It doesn’t just affect the mind—it warps perception, memory, even biology. People who take it report visions, mutations, and encounters with entities that don’t exist in this plane. And yet, somehow, they remain lucid.
But here’s the thing: I don’t think The Pale was made for us.
I think it was made for the Mole People. Or by them. Or maybe it’s something they were trying to contain.
There’s a legend—buried in the footnotes of a banned anthropology journal—that speaks of a “White Curse” carried by the Deep Folk. A substance that was never meant to surface. A gift or a punishment from something they worship beneath the crust. They called it “The Breath of the Hollow Star.”
Sound familiar?
What if The Pale is that curse? What if it’s leaking upward, not because someone is distributing it, but because the Mole People lost control of it?
Or worse—what if they’re running from it?
I’ve heard whispers that the eastern tunnels are no longer safe. That something is hunting down the Deep Folk. That their cities—yes, cities—beneath our feet are collapsing. Not from war. Not from decay. But from infestation.
And what if The Pale is the infestation?
What if it’s not a drug at all, but a sentient substance? A parasite. A messenger. Something that was buried for a reason and is now using us as vessels.
The Mole People know. They’ve always known. That’s why they’re silent. That’s why they’re retreating. That’s why they haven’t surfaced in weeks.
They’re afraid.
And if the Mole People are afraid, then we should be terrified.
Because whatever The Pale is… it’s not done yet.