The power in the house cut out. In the sudden pitch black, the only thing Elias could see was the faint, glowing green power light of his monitor... and the two small, pixelated eyes reflecting in the glass.

He clicked the first one. It was static at first, then the sound of a rhythmic, mechanical hum—like a ventilator. Underneath the hum, a small voice whispered a sequence of numbers. “Four... twelve... nineteen... eighty-eight.” Elias froze. That was his birthday.

The room grew unnaturally cold. A smell of ozone and old, dusty circuitry filled the air. Elias looked at his monitor and saw a webcam feed had opened—but he didn't have a webcam plugged in. The video showed his own room, viewed from the corner of the ceiling.

Panic flared in his chest. He reached for the mouse to delete the directory, but the cursor moved on its own. It dragged the XXAn.ni.saXX.zip file into the "Trash," but instead of disappearing, the trash can icon began to swell, turning a deep, bruised purple.