The darkness did not feel empty.
It felt crowded.
Daniel couldn’t see, but he could feel it—like eyes pressing against every inch of the room.
Sarah’s breathing was rapid beside him. Michael’s grip on his shoulder was tight enough to hurt.
Then the silence broke.
A whisper, not from one direction, but everywhere at once.
“We found him.”
Daniel froze.
“Who… who is that?” Sarah’s voice cracked.
No one answered.
A second later, the house lights flickered back but wrong. Dim. Pulsing. Like they were struggling to stay alive.
And in that unstable glow, Daniel saw something that made his stomach drop.
The air itself was changing.
Thin strands like glowing threads—hung in space.
They stretched across the room, faint but unmistakable, connecting objects, people… moments.
One thread ran from Michael’s chest toward the broken window.
Another wrapped around Sarah’s wrist, trembling like a live wire.
And one thin, bright, almost alive was attached directly to Daniel’s head.
“What...