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Elias finally turned around, but there was no one there. There was only the sound of his own breathing, perfectly synced with the rhythmic hiss of static now leaking from his speakers, even though the file had stopped playing.

The file sat on the desktop, a generic icon labeled Download Recording m4a. Elias didn't remember clicking a link or hitting save. He had spent the afternoon cleaning up his cluttered downloads folder, and there it was, wedged between a PDF receipt and a blurry screenshot. Download Recording m4a

The blood drained from his face. The voice was his own, but the tone was wrong—hollow, as if spoken by someone who hadn't breathed in years. Elias finally turned around, but there was no one there

He reached for the power button, but his fingers passed right through the plastic as if he were made of smoke. He looked down at his hands. They were fragmenting into jagged, green pixels. On the desk, the computer speakers pulsed one last time. "Recording finished," his own voice whispered from the air. Elias didn't remember clicking a link or hitting save

The media player opened. Silence stretched for the first ten seconds, filled only by the faint, rhythmic hiss of background static. Then, a sound emerged. It wasn't music or a voice. It was the distinct, metallic scrape of a key turning in a lock. Elias froze. The sound was too clear, too close.