The first light of dawn was bleeding into the sky when Alyse glanced at the clock. The hands hovered near half past six. In just thirty minutes, the night shift at Lucy's Electronics Limited would be ending, and the employees would be leaving for home.
If she moved quickly, she could catch someone before they disappeared — someone who might tell her what had happened to her friends during her absence.
She didn't waste another second. Throwing on a coat, she left her house and started down the quiet road. Her office wasn't close, but she didn't care.
Her neighborhood sat on the outer edge of the city — a sparsely inhabited strip where houses were scattered far apart, the silence broken only by the occasional bark of a dog or the rustle of wind through thin trees. It was beautiful in its own lonely way, calm enough that the rest of the city's chaos felt like a distant rumor.
She ran, barely noticing her surroundings, her mind fixed on the faces in that newspaper article. The pavement blurred under her feet.
But then something pulled her attention — a figure up ahead, standing at the edge of the muddy road.
A boy, no more than twelve, stood completely still, his head tilted downward. His eyes were locked on the ground with such intensity that Alyse instinctively slowed.
Following his gaze, she saw nothing at first. Then — movement. The dirt shimmered faintly, alive with the restless motion of countless ants, a dark ribbon weaving across the road. The boy's expression wasn't one of idle curiosity; it was something sharper. Shock. Or fear.
Alyse's heartbeat faltered for a moment. But she pushed forward, hurrying past him without a word. She didn't have time for distractions. Not now.
She had no money. No phone. No way to call a cab.
So she ran.
Her footsteps pounded through the narrow streets, weaving between rows of shuttered shops and houses sunk in silence. The city felt as though it were holding its breath — only the faint creak of old signs and the distant hum of a streetlamp broke the stillness.
She took every shortcut she knew — slipping down alleys, vaulting over low steps, darting across empty intersections — chasing the clock.
By the time she reached the company building, her breath came in ragged gasps. The front gates were open, and employees were already filing out, heading home with tired faces and easy conversation. Relief sparked in her chest, and she pushed herself forward, waving, calling out to them.
"Haley! Lara! Arthur!"
No reaction.
She got closer — close enough to touch them — but it was as though she wasn't there. Their eyes slid past her, unfocused, like she was nothing but empty air. She reached out, her voice cracking as she called again.
Nothing.
It was like she had been erased from their lives.
The relief drained from her in an instant, leaving her hollow. Her steps slowed, then stopped. For a moment she just stood there, watching the people she once laughed with walk away as if she had never existed.
Something inside her gave way. Without thinking, she turned and began to walk — not home, but toward the one place that had always given her a sliver of peace.
It was a terrace on the top of a forgotten building near the company. Hardly anyone went there; most didn't even know it could be reached. On days when work had drained her completely, she would come here alone, sit in the quiet, and let the wind carry her thoughts away.
The climb up the narrow, dust-choked staircase felt heavier than usual. Her footsteps echoed against the bare concrete walls, the sound almost too loud in the stillness. When she pushed open the rusted door at the top, the familiar expanse of the terrace spread out before her — the open sky, the weathered stone ledge, the faint smell of old rain in the air.
She crossed to her usual spot at the far corner and leaned on the railing, letting the morning light settle over her. The city sprawled below, waking slowly. For a few moments, she simply breathed.
Then the wind shifted.
It came sudden and sharp, carrying with it a scent she couldn't place — bitter, metallic, wrong. The warmth drained from the air, replaced by a chill that crawled across her skin. Somewhere behind her, a faint sound rose… like footsteps on the stairwell she had just climbed.
But when she turned, the terrace was empty.
She sank to the cold stone, pulling her knees to her chest. The wind whipped strands of hair across her damp cheeks as tears finally came, heavy and hot.
I knew they weren't good people, she thought, meaning the colleagues who had always looked at her with quiet envy. But I never imagined it would come to this — that all my friends would die in such a miserable way.
Sam, Oliver, James, and Ethan — they had been different. The only ones who treated her kindly, who had laughed with her, shielded her from the snide remarks and subtle hostility of the others.
Everywhere she went, Alyse had been met with warmth and respect from strangers, and it had only deepened her coworkers' resentment. They had made her life heavy in small, cutting ways — little reminders that she didn't belong in their circle.
Now the ones who had cared for her were ash in some nameless grave, and those who remained treated her like she had never existed at all.
It felt like the world had turned its back on her in an instant.
A hooded figure was walking toward her — small in frame, almost certainly a girl. Her face was hidden behind a mask, and the rest of her body was swathed in thick clothing and pale bandages, leaving no skin exposed.
Without a word, the stranger sat down on the bench beside Alyse.
Alyse glanced at her briefly, but her mind was too crowded with grief to dwell on it.
Then the air shifted.
The atmosphere thickened, the sky dimmed as if a storm were gathering, and the wind began to lash across the terrace in harsh, cold bursts. The masked girl lifted her chin slowly, turning her concealed face toward Alyse.
Her voice came low, edged with disbelief, each word striking like a drop of ice.
"Look… look… look in the mirror. Is it me… or an illusion?"
The wind stopped.
Silence flooded in, heavy and unnatural. Alyse's eyes widened, her jaw tightening as her breath caught in her throat. She tried to speak, but the words tangled before they could escape.
Shivering, she turned sharply toward the girl—
But the bench was empty.
No sound of retreating footsteps. No trace she had ever been there at all. It was as if Alyse had shared the space with something wearing a human shape… and the thought made her skin crawl.
Her legs felt unsteady as she rose from the bench. That was when she saw it — a small slip of paper lying where the stranger had sat.
She picked it up with trembling fingers.
An address. The location of the amusement park. And beneath it, scrawled in hurried, almost frantic handwriting, a single name: An.