The resonance follows me all night—soft, circling, restless.
Not loud.Not violent.Just… present, like a hand hovering an inch from my back, never touching but impossible to ignore.
By 3 a.m., I'm sitting on the kitchen floor, wrapped in a blanket, staring at the faint glow leaking beneath my bedroom door. It pulses once every few seconds—slow, steady, like breath.
Adrian's breath.
Or something pretending to be him.
I keep replaying the last whisper I heard:
"He's lying."
But Elias's warning haunts me just as fiercely:
"What you're trying to reach isn't the only thing trying to reach you."
A sound breaks through the silence—a soft tap at my window.
I freeze.
Another tap.Gentle. Rhythmic.
I stand, moving slowly toward the living room. The window's cracked glow brightens with each breath I take—blue, then violet, then back to blue again.
Tap… tap…
I press my palm to the glass.
"Adrian?" I whisper.
For a moment, the light brightens, blooming across the fractures like someone's hand presses from the other side.
My pulse quickens. "If you're there, please… show me something real. Something that's you."
Silence.
Then—A faint note rings through the room, vibrating through my bones.D5, shimmering gently.
My favorite note.
My signature.My anchor.
Tears blur my vision.
"It is you," I breathe.
But a cold draft sweeps across my ankles.A warning shiver.
The glow on the window shifts—fast, sharp—like a pulse skipping unnaturally.
A second note follows the first.
Not gentle.Not mine.Something metallic, discordant.
G#2.
A growling tone that drags through the air, scraping like claws against concrete.
My breath catches.
That isn't Adrian's voice anymore.
I step back from the window.
The glow flickers violently—blue to violet to a harsh, jarring red—before sputtering out entirely. The glass dulls, returning to its ordinary, fractured state.
The resonance inside me trembles.
Something pressed against the breach.Something strong enough to leave a mark.
And it wasn't him.
I back away from the window, heart pounding.
"I'm not opening it," I whisper to the empty room. "Not until I know who's on the other side."
A sudden vibration pulses through the apartment, rattling the cabinet doors. The resonance surges up my spine like a warning shock—and then stops.
Everything falls still.
I sink onto the couch, shaking.
The breach wants to open again.Something—maybe Adrian, maybe not—wants through.
And I'm losing control.
Morning comes as a pale, exhausted blur.
I must've slept for an hour at most.
When I wake, there's a note slipped under my door.
My breath halts.
I pull it open with trembling hands.
Lyra,We need to talk.—Elias
No threats.No instructions.No time.
Just need.
The simplicity terrifies me more than any warning could.
I dress quickly, hands shaking, and open my door.
Elias is standing at the bottom of the stairwell—perfectly still, hands clasped behind his back as if he's been waiting a long while. Hours, maybe. His dark coat hangs open, revealing a fitted black sweater underneath, sharp lines mirroring the severe focus in his eyes.
"Good morning," he says softly.
"You left a note," I say.
"You weren't answering your phone."
"I turned it off."
"I know," he replies. "That's why I came myself."
There's something about the way he looks at me…something intense, controlled, almost reverent.
As if he's standing in front of a dangerous instrument only he knows how to play.
"I need answers," I say, voice shaking.
"And I need the truth," he replies. "From you."
He steps closer.
"What happened last night?"
My mouth opens but nothing comes out.How do I explain the glow, the notes, the imitation of Adrian's voice?
He studies the tension in my shoulders, the exhaustion in my eyes.
"You were attacked by a resonance feedback, weren't you?"
I inhale sharply. "I wasn't attacked."
His expression darkens. "Something tried to breach your field. Again."
There's an urgency in his tone that wasn't there before—fear, even.
"Lyra," he says quietly, "you're not stable. You're vibrating at two frequencies at once. That shouldn't be possible."
"I'm not a problem for you to fix—"
"You could die," he interrupts sharply.Then softer: "And I don't want that."
The sudden warmth in his voice catches me off guard.He steps closer, so close I can feel his breath.
"No one else has survived dual resonance for more than a week," he murmurs. "You're already past the safe window."
My pulse quickens. "There were others? You said that yesterday."
He nods slowly. "Four."
"What happened to them?"
His eyes lower. "Three died."
"And the fourth?"
His gaze shifts, heavy with memory. "…She vanished."
A chill ripples through me.
"How?"
"We don't know. One night she went into resonance overload—and then she wasn't there anymore. No body. No trace." His voice drops. "Just a room full of harmonic residue."
I swallow hard. "She crossed over."
"Into what?" he asks intensely. "Into where? We can't study what we can't measure."
I turn away, my voice breaking. "Maybe she wasn't alone."
He steps closer again. "You think she found your... apparition?"
"My apparition has a name."
He searches my face. "Is it really him, Lyra? Or is the field giving you what you want to see?"
I flinch.
A direct hit.
"He's real," I whisper fiercely.
"Something is real," Elias corrects. "But is it him? Or a frequency echo wearing his shape?"
Tears sting my eyes.
I don't want to doubt Adrian.I don't want to believe I could be wrong.
But last night's false voice…That wasn't him.And something out there knows how to imitate. How to mimic. How to lure.
"Lyra," Elias says gently, "let me help you. Before the breach takes more than your sleep. Before it takes you."
He reaches out—slowly, carefully—and brushes a stray tear from my cheek.
His touch is warm.Human.Grounded.
For a moment, my trembling stops.
But then—A deep, resonant thrum vibrates through my chest, as if something inside me snarls.
Elias's hand freezes mid-air.
His expression sharpens. "The resonance is reacting to me."
I step back, breath hitching.
"It's never done that before," I whisper.
He watches me closely.
"It's bonding to something," he says. "Or someone."
I choke on a breath. "Adrian."
"Or the thing pretending to be him."
A crack runs through the air between us—a soft shimmer, like light bending.
I stagger back.
The resonance pulses violently.
A whisper curls through my ear—
"Lyra. Don't trust him."
My knees weaken.Adrian's voice—this one warm, familiar, real—floods my senses.
But Elias steps forward instantly, grabbing my arms to steady me.
"What did you hear?" he demands. "Tell me."
I shake my head, gripping his coat. "I don't know what's real anymore."
His eyes soften—truly soften—for the first time.
"You're real," he murmurs."Stay with me."
I look up at him.
And for one fleeting, disorienting moment…the world holds its breath.
Elias's face inches closer.His grip on my arms tightens.His voice trembles with something I can't name.
"Lyra… tell me what you want."
Before I can answer—the windows along the stairwell explode inward, spraying glass like glittering shards.
We both drop to the floor as a wave of force ripples outward, shaking the building.
The resonance screams inside my body—raw, furious, unmistakably alive.
Elias shields me with his body, shouting something I can't hear over the ringing in my ears.
The air warps.A rift of violet light opens at the far end of the hallway—thin, trembling, reaching.
And from within it…
A hand forms.
Outlined in shimmering blue light.Long fingers.A familiar shape.
My breath shatters.
Adrian.
He's pushing through.He's breaking the barrier.
Elias tightens his hold on me.
"Don't move," he whispers hoarsely. "We don't know if that's him."
Tears stream down my face.
The hand reaches further, trembling with effort.
A voice echoes through the rupture—warped, distant, echoing through layers of space—
"Lyra… come to me…"
Elias pulls me back.
"Don't," he pleads. "Please—don't go toward it."
I stare at the rift.At the hand that looks so much like his.At the voice that calls to the deepest part of me.
My heart breaks open.
Because the question slams into me harder than the resonance itself—
If I take that hand…am I reaching for Adrian?Or stepping willingly into something wearing his voice?
And worse:
What if choosing wrong means I never come back?