Elias leaned in. The architecture was impossible. The hallway seemed to stretch for miles, lit only by the cameraman's narrow beam, yet the metadata of the file insisted the footage was recorded in a space no larger than a standard basement. The Glitch

The screen went black. The hum intensified until it was the only thing left in the room.

As the hand in the video reached for the handle, Elias heard the unmistakable sound of his own front door unlatching. He turned, heart hammering against his ribs, but the hallway of his apartment was empty. When he looked back at the monitor, the camera in the video had turned around.

The audio shifted. The breathing stopped, replaced by a synthesized voice reading out a string of coordinates and dates. “47.6062° N, 122.3321° W... April 28, 2026.”