Elias[/@ch_1], hunched at his desk. The air is heavy and silent, the world outside lost in a hush of night.] Elias rubs his eyes, fatigue etched deep into his features, as he squints at the video editing timeline. The screen shows a familiar figure—himself—walking into the kitchen, his every movement looped and dissected. Fingers trembling, he whispers, "Almost done...", and presses play, watching the digital version of himself traverse the mundane path from desk to kitchen counter.

Elias[/@ch_1] walks into the kitchen, grabs a glass, but instead of looking at the camera, his gaze shifts—directly past the lens, toward a shadowed corner of the real room.] Elias freezes, a frown tightening his brow. He drags the playhead back, replaying the moment, confusion mounting as he mutters, "What the hell? I didn't film that." The air seems to thicken, the quiet suddenly too complete, as Digital Elias on the screen stands at the edge of the frame, expression blank, finger pressed to his lips in an unsettling, silent shush.

Elias[/@ch_1] as he keeps his eyes glued to the screen, too frightened to turn.] He stares, heartbeat thudding in his ears, as on the monitor, something new materializes. Behind Digital Elias, a distorted, shadowy shape—wrong in its proportions, crawling with an unnatural gait—emerges from beneath the bed that stands mere feet from where Elias sits.

Elias[/@ch_1]'s own racing pulse.] Now, on the screen, the shadowy shape looms fully into view, towering behind Digital Elias. Its hand—pale and too many-fingered—settles on his shoulder, and Digital Elias's face twists into terror. He pounds on the inside of the monitor, mouth open in a soundless scream, the heartbeat growing louder, more insistent.

Elias[/@ch_1] reaches for his phone, his hand trembling so violently he can barely grasp it.] A sudden chill caresses the back of his neck—impossibly cold, like the breath of something not quite alive. He glances at the laptop one final time, only to find the video gone; the screen is now a dark mirror, reflecting the room behind him. In the reflection, the shape stands, impossibly close, its inky form looming over his shoulder.

Elias[/@ch_1] steels himself.] His breath comes in ragged gasps, eyes locked on the screen as he watches his own reflection begin to turn. He feels the presence behind him—heavy, suffocating, real. Time slows, the moment suspended, as Elias starts to pivot, dread and inevitability intermingling in the darkness.