Chapter 5: A Name That Isn’t Mine

Cass didn't move for a long time.

The dream—the memory—was still bleeding through, thick and suffocating. His body ached as if he had really been thrown from that car, as if he had really sprinted through that building, as if the explosion had really torn through him. He could still feel the heat of the fires licking at his skin. The air in his lungs felt sharp, like he had inhaled smoke.

But that was impossible.

Right?

His bedroom was still dark, the world outside still quiet. He turned his head toward the window, expecting—what? The burning sky? The flickering city? But there was nothing. Just the familiar skyline, washed in pale pre-dawn light.

He exhaled slowly, running a hand over his face. It was just a dream.

Except it wasn't.

Cass sat up, every muscle in his body tensed, waiting for something—anything—to feel normal again. But the floor beneath his feet felt like it wasn't quite there. The room was too still, too quiet, as if the world was holding its breath.

He needed to move.

Cass pushed himself up and padded toward the bathroom, the unease thick in his chest. He flicked on the light, bracing his hands on the sink. His reflection stared back at him—tired, pale, sweat still clinging to his skin. Normal.

He swallowed hard. Waited.

The mirror blinked first.

Cass stumbled back, his heart slamming against his ribs.

No. No, that wasn't—it wasn't possible. His breath hitched, his hands gripping the edge of the sink as he forced himself to look again.

His reflection was normal now. But it hadn't been.

His pulse roared in his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, inhaling sharply through his nose, trying to ground himself. It's nothing. You're exhausted. You're imagining things.

But he knew better.

And when he opened his eyes again, something was different.

The mirror was fogging over. But he hadn't turned on the shower.

Cass took a step closer. The condensation thickened, creeping over the glass in swirling patterns. He watched, breath caught in his throat, as something took shape beneath the fog—

A word.

A name.

Caleb.

Cass's blood ran cold.

His chest constricted, a sudden, suffocating panic gripping his ribs. That name—it wasn't his. But the moment he saw it, something inside him recoiled, like an exposed nerve had been touched.

Caleb.

He reached out with a shaking hand, fingers hovering just above the glass. The letters looked smeared, written hastily. Like someone had been desperate to leave him a message.

A memory flickered at the edges of his mind.

"If you fail, it resets."

Cass inhaled sharply, stumbling back, his shoulder hitting the wall. His vision blurred for a second, like the whole room had flickered between two realities. A static hum filled his ears, distorting the edges of his thoughts.

Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, the name faded.

The mirror was clear.

The room was silent.

Cass's hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. No. No, I saw it.

He wasn't imagining this. He wasn't losing his mind.

Something—someone—was trying to reach him.

And they had called him by a name that wasn't his.

Cass's heart pounded as he forced himself to stand straight, sucking in slow, steady breaths. The fear was still there, a tight coil in his gut, but beneath it, something else was taking shape.

Not just fear.

Resolve.

Something was wrong with the world.

And he was going to find out what.

Cass didn't return to bed. He couldn't. Instead, he found himself in the kitchen, staring at the clock on the microwave, the green digital numbers glowing eerily in the dark.

3:42 AM.

Too early to be awake. Too late to go back to sleep.

He made coffee with mechanical precision, the warmth of the mug doing little to shake the cold knot of unease in his stomach. His thoughts churned, circling back to that name—Caleb. He didn't know anyone by that name. Didn't recall ever meeting someone who went by it. And yet, it felt… familiar. Not like a person he'd met, but like something buried deep, beyond his reach.

A memory he wasn't supposed to have.

The dream still lingered at the edges of his mind, the taste of ash on his tongue, the weight of that countdown pressing into his chest. He could almost hear the radio crackling—If you fail, it resets.

Cass exhaled, rubbing his temple. It wasn't just a dream. It wasn't just his mind playing tricks on him.

It was something more.

A floorboard creaked behind him.

Cass stiffened, every hair on his arms rising. He turned slowly, the air in the kitchen suddenly feeling too thick, too heavy.

Nothing.

No one was there.

The hallway stretched back into darkness, silent and still. But for a moment—for just a fraction of a second—he could have sworn he saw a shadow move.

Cass swallowed hard, his grip tightening on the mug.

Something was watching him.

No.

Something was waiting.

End of Chapter 5