Then a soft chime. His laptop had reopened itself.

The video ended at 05:00 exactly.

The white room darkened. Not to black—to a shade Leo had never seen before. A color that didn't exist in nature. A color that felt like remembering a dream you never had.

He screamed and slammed the laptop shut.

He chuckled, then downloaded it.

Silence. Rain. His heart pounding.

Olivia's face pressed close to the lens. Her lips parted, and light spilled out—not from her mouth, but into her, as if she were a hole in reality.

She turned her head toward the lens. Not at it— through it.

Leo glanced at his dark monitor's bezel. His face was there, but his eyes were missing. Replaced by two tiny white squares.

Leo's hands were pale. Too pale. He held them to the lamp. The light passed through his skin. Through his bones.

"You're watching," she said. Her voice was warm, almost kind. "That's fine. Everyone watches at first."