The Man who Survived Time

The streets of the lower districts were a far cry from the polished skyline of the city above. Neon signs flickered between power surges, casting shifting colors onto the rain-slick pavement. The scent of burning wires and damp concrete filled the air, and the hum of distant machinery never fully faded.

Idris adjusted his coat, glancing at Elise and Nyla as they moved through the alleyways. Lane had stayed behind—this wasn't a job for a uniform. If Silas Rook was hiding down here, they couldn't afford to draw attention.

"You're sure he's still alive?" Elise asked, keeping her voice low.

"As sure as I can be," Nyla replied. "People like him don't just stop existing."

Idris raised a brow. "That's exactly what we said about Elias Kade."

Nyla didn't respond.

The three of them reached an old, run-down tech shop wedged between two buildings. The sign above the door had long since lost its lettering, and the windows were covered in thick layers of dust.

Nyla pressed a button on the side of her watch, sending out a silent ping. "This was his last known location. If he's here, he'll respond."

They waited. Nothing happened.

Elise exhaled sharply. "I hate this."

"Agreed," Idris muttered. He reached for the door handle. Locked. With a quick glance around, he took a step back and slammed his shoulder into it. The wood cracked, then gave way, sending him stumbling into the dimly lit interior.

Inside, the air was stale, filled with the scent of old electronics and burnt circuits. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with outdated tech—hollowed-out monitors, stripped cables, a few handheld devices that hadn't been used in decades.

"This place looks abandoned," Elise murmured.

"Looks can be deceiving," Idris said, running a hand along the counter. His fingers brushed against something—a thin layer of dust, except for one clean streak where something had been recently moved.

Someone had been here.

Nyla scanned the room, her eyes sharp. "Rook, if you're here, we're not enemies. We need to talk."

Silence.

Then—

A click.

Idris barely had time to react before the floor beneath them gave way.

The Drop

The fall was brief but jarring. Idris landed hard on his back, the wind knocked from his lungs. Above him, the trapdoor slammed shut, cutting off the faint light from the shop.

A dim red glow flickered to life.

"Well," came a voice from the darkness. "That was dramatic."

Idris groaned, pushing himself up as the others recovered. His gaze snapped to the figure standing before them.

Silas Rook.

He looked exactly like the image Nyla had shown them—hollowed eyes, sharp features, a long coat that had seen better days. But there was something else. Something unsettling.

The way he stood—too still. The way his eyes moved—not just watching them, but analyzing them.

"Silas Rook," Nyla said, dusting herself off. "You're as paranoid as ever."

Rook smirked. "And yet you still walked through my front door." He folded his arms. "I assume this isn't a social visit."

Idris stepped forward. "We need to talk about the Echoes."

For the first time, something flickered across Rook's face. Not fear, but recognition.

He exhaled, shaking his head. "If you're looking for a way to stop them, you're wasting your time."

Idris clenched his jaw. "Why?"

"Because," Rook said grimly, "they already know you're here."

The red light flickered.

And then, the world shifted.

The walls rippled like water. The air turned thick, vibrating with something unseen. The red glow distorted, twisting into shapes that shouldn't exist.

And then—

The shadows moved.

A shape formed in the corner of the room, just out of focus. A figure made of flickering static, its edges blurring in and out of reality. Its face was nothing but shifting void, its limbs stretched unnaturally.

It didn't walk. It didn't move.

But it was closer than before.

Idris' pulse slammed against his ribs. "Tell me that's not what I think it is."

Rook's voice was low. "That's an Echo."

The figure tilted its head. The air around it crackled, and suddenly—

The room snapped.

Idris felt it.

The pull.

Like something was reaching inside him, threading through his existence, unraveling the very fabric of him.

"Run," Rook whispered.

Then, the Echo surged forward.