Intro---The First Whisper

Part 1: The Body That Shouldn't Exist

The city morgue was never truly silent. The hum of the fluorescent lights, the distant dripping of a leaky pipe, the faint buzz of the refrigeration units—it all blended into a low, mechanical murmur, a song for the dead.

Orion Blackwood stood over the autopsy table, staring down at a corpse that shouldn't exist.

She had been brought in an hour ago. No ID. No fingerprints in the system. No police records. No next of kin. According to the report, she had been found in an abandoned warehouse, sprawled on the concrete like a discarded mannequin, her body untouched by decay despite the fact that she had—supposedly—been dead for over 72 hours.

That was impossible.

Orion ran a gloved hand along the edge of the steel table, his eyes locked on the woman's face. Her skin was bloodless, almost waxen, her lips slightly parted. Her eyes—half-open—held a glassy, vacant expression, as if she had died in the middle of saying something. A conversation cut short.

He had seen thousands of dead bodies before. But something about her was… wrong.

His fingers twitched toward his scalpel. The air in the morgue felt thicker than usual, pressing against his skin like damp velvet. He exhaled sharply and reached for the recorder.

"Case number 4702. Unidentified female, approximately late twenties. Found under anomalous circumstances. Cause of death—pending autopsy."

He set the recorder down and placed his hands on either side of the body. A routine examination. Nothing he hadn't done a hundred times before.

Then, as he bent forward—the corpse moved.

It was subtle. Almost imperceptible. The slightest parting of her lips, the faintest shift in her throat. Orion's entire body locked up, his breath frozen in his chest.

And then he heard it.

A voice.

Faint. Ragged. Coming from the unmoving corpse beneath him.

"Don't let him find you."

Orion's blood turned to ice.

The woman's lips had stopped moving. Her body was still. The morgue was silent once more.

For the first time in years, Orion Blackwood felt something he had long buried—fear.

Part 2: The Missing Body

Orion took a step back, his pulse pounding against his ribs.

He had heard whispers of the dead before—but never like this. Never so clear. Never so deliberate.

The words echoed in his skull, gnawing at the edge of his reason.

"Don't let him find you."

Who?

His fingers hovered over the call button on his desk. He should report this. Call Detective Halliday, the officer in charge of the case. But what the hell was he supposed to say? Hey, I think the corpse just spoke to me—

No. He needed proof first.

Steadying himself, Orion grabbed his scalpel and leaned in. He pressed the cold steel against the woman's sternum—

The lights flickered.

For a brief second, the morgue plunged into absolute darkness. The hum of the refrigeration units stuttered, as if the entire building exhaled.

And when the lights came back—

The corpse was gone.

Orion's breath hitched.

The autopsy table was empty. The body that had been lying there, frozen and lifeless just seconds ago, had vanished.

No footprints. No sound of a door opening. No movement in the room except his own ragged breathing.

He spun toward the security monitors in the corner. His fingers flew across the keyboard, rewinding the footage.

The screen flickered. The time stamp rolled back.

There he was, standing over the autopsy table. There was the body—pale, unmoving.

Then—nothing.

The footage skipped. Jumped forward in time. One frame, the woman was there. The next, she wasn't.

No transition. No sign of what had happened.

It was like she had been erased.

Part 3: The Footsteps in the Dark

A chill crawled down Orion's spine.

This wasn't possible. Bodies didn't just disappear.

His hands tightened into fists as he scanned the footage again. Then something else caught his eye—

A shadow.

A flicker in the corner of the screen.

Orion's heart slammed against his ribs. There was someone else in the morgue.

A figure. Standing just behind him.

The screen distorted, static crackling across the feed. But for one brief, horrifying second, Orion saw it clearly—

A man, dressed in black. Face blurred, like the camera refused to capture his features. He was just standing there, watching.

Then—the screen cut to black.

A sound echoed through the morgue.

Footsteps.

Slow. Deliberate. Coming from the hallway outside.

Orion turned, every muscle in his body tensed.

The morgue's entrance was still locked. The only other way in… was through the freezer.

And the footsteps were coming from the inside.

Part 4: The Freezer Door

Orion's breath came slow and measured. He reached for the nearest scalpel, gripping it tight.

The footsteps had stopped.

The heavy, reinforced steel door of the freezer stood just a few feet away. The morgue's dead should have been locked safely inside.

But someone was in there with them.

Orion hesitated. Every rational part of his mind screamed at him to leave. Call security. Call the police. Call anyone.

Instead, he stepped forward.

And as he reached out—

The freezer door swung open.

The lights flickered.

A gust of ice-cold air rushed past him, the stench of formaldehyde and something deeper, something rotten filling his lungs.

Inside, the freezer was empty.

The bodies, all of them—gone.

And then, from just behind him, close enough that he could feel the whisper of breath against his neck—

A voice.

"You shouldn't be here."