The sky was bright, washed in a pale gold that seemed to come from nowhere. The land was warm beneath its light, a gentle breeze carrying the soft scent of flowers across wide, rolling meadows. Grass swayed in calm, unhurried waves, as if time itself had slowed to match their rhythm. No sun hung in the sky, and yet the light was everywhere, wrapping the world in a glow so perfect it almost felt unreal.
But then, in the distance, the grass stopped moving — as though the breeze had simply chosen not to touch that part of the land. A bird's cry rang out sharp and clear, then cut off mid-note. Somewhere, faintly, there was the sound of water trickling… though no stream was in sight.
In such a heavenly place awoke a girl — kind, beautiful beyond the sparkle of any diamond, and composed in a way that made her seem untouched by the storms of life. Her name was Alyse.
She rose in confusion, her mind grasping for reason. How had she ended up here?
Memories of her life drifted in, uninvited yet vivid. Her father had died when she was only three, leaving behind nothing but a few photographs and her mother's careful stories. She had no memories of him, no sound of his voice, no trace of his laugh. And yet, she had never felt the hollow ache people spoke of when they lost a parent — because her mother had made certain of that. With warmth that could fill a room and a devotion that never wavered, her mother had given Alyse enough love for two parents. She grew up knowing she was the very center of someone's world.
As she grew older, the circle of people who adored her only widened. In high school, she had been beloved by teachers and classmates alike — not for beauty alone, though she had that in abundance, but for her sincerity. She remembered afternoons in sunlit classrooms where she helped struggling students without being asked, the easy way people smiled when she entered a room. By college, she had built a reputation for being the dependable one, the friend you called at three in the morning and knew would show up. Professors respected her; peers trusted her. She was the sort of person whose absence in a group was felt instantly.
It had been, by every measure she could recall, a good life. A happy one.
And yet sixty days of it were gone, stolen from her mind. All that remained was a single, jagged truth: she had jumped from a building…. and ended her own life.
Why she would do such a thing was a question she could not begin to answer.
As Alyse lifted her gaze, leaving the storm of thoughts behind, her eyes caught on something that did not belong in the serene landscape — a door.
It stood alone, detached from any wall or structure, its wood blackened and warped as though it had been burned but never consumed. Strange, curling markings clawed along its surface, shifting faintly in the light. It looked… cursed.
And yet, without knowing why, she stepped toward it. The darkness that seeped from its frame called to her, a pull that was as frightening as it was irresistible.
Her hand closed around the cold, iron handle.
The moment the door swung open, a sudden gust of black mist surged out, swallowing the warm light. In the same breath, the world fell into a suffocating silence. Alyse's vision went black.
She couldn't see. She couldn't hear. She could only feel — a thick, oppressive energy pressing against her skin, curling into her lungs. It was hatred without a voice, grief without a face. The air grew heavier, colder, until—
A sudden shift. The warmth returned.
Her eyes flew open to a blinding white light, and within seconds, she realized she was lying in her own bed. Her room surrounded her, every detail achingly familiar — the faint scent of lavender, the sunlight spilling across the curtains, the soft creak of the wooden floor beneath her fingers.
Tears came without warning, pouring down like a sudden storm. Relief and joy tangled together in her chest. She smiled through the blur, letting her gaze linger on each beloved detail. Memories flooded back — laughter at the kitchen table, evenings with tea and her mother's voice drifting from the next room.
She bolted upright, her heart racing. "Mom!"
Her voice cracked with excitement as she ran through the house, shouting her mother's name, laughing and crying all at once. But her calls went unanswered.
The laughter faded. The house was still. Too still.
She searched every room, checked the garden, peered out the front door — nothing. No sign of her. Maybe she'd gone for groceries, Alyse told herself. Or to visit the neighbors. The thought rang hollow.
She climbed the stairs slowly, a knot tightening in her stomach. Back in her room, something on the desk caught her eye — a folded sheet of paper, yellowed at the edges.
Her breath froze as she unfolded it.
It was a missing person report. Her own photograph stared back at her, the date stamped clearly: sixty days ago.
Her hands trembled. The edges of her vision wavered. The gaps in her mind pressed inward like thorns, sharp and unyielding, stabbing at something buried deep inside her. She tried to force the memories back, but they slipped away, leaving only pain and the weight of something she was afraid to remember.
Her knees weakened. The room swayed.
Darkness nipped at the edges of her mind once more.
Her trembling hands rifled frantically through the desk drawers, searching for more documents — anything that could explain the sixty missing days.
Then she froze.
Beneath a stack of unopened letters lay a folded newspaper, its front page splashed with bold, black headlines.
She pulled it out, the paper crackling in her grip, and the words seemed to twist under her gaze:
"FOUR CHARRED BODIES FOUND NEAR RIVERSIDE SLUM — IDENTITIES UNCONFIRMED."
The article's details clawed into her mind. The bodies had been burned so completely, so deliberately, that no physical evidence could point to the killer. But investigators had pieced together enough scraps to form a chilling suspicion — that the dead were employees of Lucy's Electronics Limited.
Her eyes caught the names, each one a punch to the chest:
Sam Williams. Oliver Brown. James Miller. Wilson Smith.
Her four most trusted colleagues.
Her only friends.
Her throat tightened until she could hardly breathe.
As her gaze slid lower, something else slipped from between the newspaper's pages — an envelope, sealed and yellowing at the edges. She opened it with clumsy fingers. Inside was a neatly folded card: an invitation.
From Sam.
The handwriting was unmistakable. He had invited her to an amusement park in the countryside — dated exactly sixty days ago.
Something deep inside her shifted. A flood of fragmented images slammed against the walls of her mind: spinning lights, the metallic tang of smoke, screams swallowed by the roar of wind — but before they could form a complete memory, they shattered and scattered, leaving only an echo of dread.
Her vision swam. She clutched the edge of the desk, fighting the pull of unconsciousness.
What had happened in those lost days?
What calamity had torn her life apart, burning her friends into unrecognizable remains?
She sank to the floor, helpless, her body trembling so violently she could not even cry. The fear was too heavy, too suffocating — it crushed the tears before they could fall.
She sank to the floor, her knees folding beneath her, the newspaper still clutched in her shaking hands. The ink smeared faintly under her damp fingers, though no tears had fallen. She wanted to cry, but the fear pressed down too heavily — a cold weight in her chest that crushed every other feeling flat.
Her gaze drifted back to the invitation lying on the desk, its neat handwriting now warped in her mind like something mocking her. Sixty days ago, she had been asked to share a day of laughter with her friends.
Sixty days later, their bodies were ash.
And she… she had no idea if she had stood beside them in life — or in death.