The city of Orvale was alive — a restless pulse of glass and neon that bled into the night. It was a place where secrets hid in reflections, and people learned to look away before truth could look back. Surveillance drones buzzed between skyscrapers like silver insects, feeding the illusion of safety. But beneath the hum of progress, something darker stirred — something that had no face, no form, and no mercy for the curious.
Forensic psychologist Dr. Elara Voss had lived here all her life. Orvale had raised her, hardened her, and nearly broken her — yet she stayed. She studied the human mind not because she wanted to heal it, but because she feared her own. Her mother had vanished in this city twenty years ago, during another blackout no one remembered clearly. Now, history seemed to be folding back on itself.
The blackout came without warning. One moment, Orvale gleamed beneath its endless grid of light; the next, darkness swallowed everything whole. No electricity, no sound — just the faint rhythm of hundreds of heartbeats waiting for something to move.
When the lights flickered back six hours later, the city was not the same. People awoke in their apartments confused, trembling, and missing fragments of time. Some couldn't remember where they'd been; others swore they had never fallen asleep. And across the city, five bodies were found — each with a single handwritten note pressed into their palm:
Wake up.
Elara was called in by the Orvale Police Department, as she had been countless times before. But this case was different. The victims had no common connection — except that all had once been her patients.
She stared at the crime scene photos in the flickering fluorescent light of her office. The handwriting on each note was distinct — yet something about it was hauntingly familiar. Her pulse quickened as she leaned closer, studying the slant of a single word: Wake.
Her own signature.Exactly replicated.
A knock broke the silence.Detective Calen Dray, tall and sharp-edged, entered holding a manila folder. His eyes were heavy — the kind that had seen too many horrors and trusted too few people.
"You're not going to like this," he said, tossing the folder onto her desk."Then don't tell me.""Elara," he sighed, "one of the bodies was found outside your apartment."
The words hit harder than she expected. Outside her apartment. How could she have not seen anything? Unless… she wasn't home. Unless the blackout took her too.
Something inside her whispered: You don't remember, do you?
Elara ignored it, standing abruptly. "Show me the footage."Calen hesitated. "You sure?""I need to know."
They watched in silence as the CCTV feed from the alley played — grainy, low-resolution. A figure emerged from the shadows, dragging something limp across the ground. The timestamp read 02:17 AM. When the figure turned toward the camera, Elara's stomach dropped.
It was her.Or someone who looked exactly like her — same coat, same hair, same scar across the cheek.But her eyes… they weren't hers.
Then the footage glitched. The screen distorted, static filling the air. When it cleared, the alley was empty.No body. No woman. Nothing.