Img_20230131_014326_328.jpg

To anyone else, the photo was a blurry mess of dark shadows and a single, piercing blue dot from a router across the room. But to Elias, it was evidence. He had been staying in Room 328 of the Oakhaven Inn for three nights, and every night at exactly 1:43 AM, that blue light didn't just blink—it pulsed in a sequence. Long. Short. Short. Long. He pulled up a Morse code translator on a separate tab. The next night: S.

The digital clock on Elias’s nightstand flipped to . He didn't need to look at the clock to know the time; he could feel it in the sudden, rhythmic hum of the radiator and the way the streetlamp outside cast a jagged shadow across his desk—a shadow that looked like a reaching hand. IMG_20230131_014326_328.jpg

The floorboards in the hallway creaked. Heavy, deliberate steps stopped right outside his door. Elias looked back at his phone. The photo he just took—ending in —wasn't just a filename. It was a countdown. The doorknob began to turn. To anyone else, the photo was a blurry