Night came faster than usual — not as a slow descent, but as if the sun had simply decided to vanish.Phyo walked along the riverside road, jacket zipped up to his throat, the chill wind carrying the faint scent of rust and old rain. He hadn't planned to come here; his steps had brought him without thought, as though his body remembered a destination his mind didn't.
The river moved like dark glass, heavy and slow.Reflections of streetlights shivered on the surface, breaking apart whenever the wind rippled across it.
He stopped near the abandoned warehouses that lined the far edge of the dock. The buildings stood like sleeping giants — forgotten relics from a time when the city had still cared about its river. Their windows were shattered, their walls scarred with graffiti that looked more like warnings than art.
Something about the air here felt alive.Not welcoming, but aware.
He ran his fingers along the cold metal gate and pushed it gently. It gave way with a tired groan, the sound echoing down the empty path like a voice in an old cathedral.
Inside, the ground was littered with broken crates, tangled ropes, and the soft crunch of glass beneath his boots. The air was thick with dust and something else — the faint hum of electricity, though there was no power here.
Then he noticed it — faint chalk markings along the inner wall. Not random graffiti this time. Symbols. Circles intersecting lines, spirals within spirals, geometric precision that felt intentional.
He stepped closer, tracing the largest one with his eyes.It was almost identical to the one he'd seen in his dreams — the circle with three intersecting lines, forming a shape like an open eye.
For a moment, everything else disappeared. The air thickened, the sound of the river faded, and the world narrowed into that symbol.
Then — movement.
Something shifted in the shadows.A silhouette at the far end of the room, half-hidden behind a pillar.
"Who's there?" His voice came out steadier than he felt.
No response. Just the faint sound of footsteps — deliberate, slow, not retreating but circling.
He took a cautious step forward, hand instinctively touching his pocket where his phone should've been. It wasn't there. He didn't remember leaving it, but it was gone.
Then a voice — low, human this time — broke the silence.
"You came earlier than expected."
Phyo froze.The figure stepped into a thin beam of moonlight filtering through the cracked roof. A woman — early thirties, maybe. Short dark hair, pale face, eyes that looked too calm for this place. She wore a long coat and gloves, and in her hand, she held a small metal case.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"That's not the right question," she replied, setting the case on a nearby crate. "The right one is — why are you here?"
He hesitated. He didn't know why. Not exactly.
She smiled slightly, reading his silence. "You feel it, don't you? The pattern. The pull."
He took another step closer. "What are these symbols?"
Her eyes flicked to the wall. "Anchors. We use them to stabilize crossing points. To keep the noise below the threshold."
"Noise?"
She looked back at him, expression hardening. "You've already heard it. Haven't you?"
The whisper.His name, spoken by no one.
His throat tightened. He didn't answer, but she didn't need him to.
"It's starting again," she murmured. "Faster than we calculated."
Phyo stared at her, confusion mixing with fear. "I don't understand—"
"You're not supposed to. Not yet." She picked up the case and opened it slightly — inside, something glowed faintly blue, like liquid light sealed in glass. "This isn't the first time you've been near an opening. But it's the first time it's responded."
He took a step back. "You're talking like this is all planned."
"It was. Until you changed the sequence."
"What sequence?"
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she pulled a small folded card from her pocket and handed it to him. On it was the same symbol — the open eye — drawn with a trembling hand. Beneath it, three words written in a language he didn't recognize.
"What does this mean?" he asked.
"You'll know when it happens again," she said quietly. "And when it does, don't run. The more you fight it, the louder it gets."
She turned as if to leave.
"Wait!" He reached for her arm. "What is this? Who are you?"
She looked back at him, her eyes reflecting the dim blue glow. "Someone who already made the same mistake."
Before he could say another word, the lights from outside flickered — car headlights sweeping briefly through the broken windows.When they passed, she was gone.
Only the case remained, open and empty.
Phyo stared at it, breath heavy. The air felt thinner now, charged, as though the walls themselves were vibrating.Then he noticed something new — scratched faintly into the crate beneath the case.
A date.Tomorrow's date.And below it, a single phrase written in English:
"The surface is never still."
He stood there for a long time, the words burning into his mind. Somewhere deep within the warehouse, he heard the low hum again — soft at first, then pulsing in rhythm with his heartbeat.
The echoes were no longer beneath the surface.They were rising.