Chapter 3 — The Visitor

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The glass hummed under Maya’s fingertips. She hadn’t meant to touch it—her body had simply moved closer, pulled by some quiet magnet in her chest. Outside, the shadow waited. It didn’t shuffle its feet, didn’t sway like a man would in the cold. It stood perfectly still, as though the storm itself bent around it.

The timer on her phone dropped to 1:59. Two minutes until… what? Acquisition? Elimination? Transformation? The words tangled in her head, useless.

Her phone vibrated.

Kiran: I see it on the projection. Vector 3 is right at your location. Maya, get away from the window!

She forced herself back, knees bumping against her father’s old desk. The badge—CLEARANCE E7—lay where she’d dropped it, its plastic edges catching the faint blue glow from her phone. She wanted to believe it meant safety, that some trace of her father still lingered in the thing, a password that might unlock protection instead of danger. But the system had rejected it. Compromised. That was the word it used. The word it had used for her.

The tapping resumed, steady this time. Not rain. Not wind. Knuckles. Testing. Claiming. She backed further into the room, eyes darting to her bedroom door, then the hallway beyond. Running would mean crossing the living room, unlocking bolts, fumbling with chains. Too long. Too loud. And what if the thing outside was faster?

The lights flickered. Once, twice, then held. But the shadows in the corners seemed to grow teeth. The air tasted metallic, as if she’d bitten her tongue.

Her phone buzzed again.

System: Secondary Host confirmation beginning. Voice required.

“No,” she hissed. “You don’t get to—”

The glass cracked. A fine white line split across the pane like lightning caught in stasis. Maya’s scream stuck in her throat. She lunged for the closet, pulling the door shut behind her, pressing herself between coats that smelled faintly of cedar. The thin slat of light beneath the door glowed red as her phone screen lit up again.

System: Vector 3 proximity achieved. Intake protocol pending.

Her pulse hammered so hard she worried the sound alone would give her away. She pressed the phone to her chest to muffle it, but it buzzed again, relentless.

Kiran: Maya, listen. You can fight this. Tell it you reject authorization.

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe words mattered against something that cracked glass with a fingertip. But her throat felt stitched shut. The closet wood creaked as if weight leaned against it.

“Maya.”

The voice wasn’t Kiran’s. It wasn’t a text. It was inside the room, flat and mechanical, yet horribly intimate. The coats trembled around her as the air shifted.

“Maya Singh. Host confirmed.”

Her phone’s timer blinked zeroes. 00:00:00.

The closet door began to open.

That's it for now

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