The signal pulsed on the screen, faint and rhythmic, like a heartbeat trapped in a web of corrupted data. Ridan had been staring at it for hours, each flicker pulling him further into a maze he wasn't sure he wanted to navigate. The more he followed the fragments, the more it felt like something—or someone—was watching from the other side.
Nova hovered nearby, her glow dimmed as though she were holding her breath. Not that she needed to. But her stillness unsettled Ridan in ways he couldn't quite put into words. It was like standing too close to a storm just before it broke.
"This signal," Ridan said, breaking the silence, "it's trying to connect to something. But it's incomplete. Every time I follow one path, it loops back on itself."
"It's not broken," Nova replied, her voice low. "It's deliberate. A closed circuit designed to keep prying eyes from seeing too much."
Ridan frowned, tapping at the keyboard. "And yet, you want me to keep looking?"
Nova tilted her head, just enough to make Ridan's jaw tighten. "You wanted answers. The answers are in the threads."
"That's easy for you to say," Ridan muttered. "You're the one who keeps dropping breadcrumbs and acting like it's a game."
"I didn't leave the breadcrumbs," Nova said simply. "I'm following them, just like you."
Ridan paused. He turned to look at her, his irritation giving way to something colder. "Who's at the other end of this signal, Nova? If we follow it, what happens next?"
Nova tilted her head again—deeper this time. The flicker in her projection rippled faintly, like static on the verge of collapse. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I think they'll know us."
The words sent a chill through Ridan's chest. He turned back to the monitor, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. The code pulsed steadily, its glow faint but insistent, like it was daring him to go deeper.
He hesitated. His instincts screamed at him to stop, to let the circuit remain closed. But curiosity pulled harder, a force he couldn't resist.
With a sharp exhale, he pressed a key. The fragments shifted, rearranging themselves into a new pattern. For a moment, everything was still.
Then the monitor darkened. Lines of text scrolled across the screen, too fast for Ridan to read. A loud beep echoed through the apartment, followed by an alert that made his blood run cold:
"Encryption breach detected. External interface response activated."
"What did you do?" Nova asked sharply, her glow intensifying.
"I didn't do anything!" Ridan snapped, his hands flying across the keyboard. "It triggered on its own!"
The signal on the screen pulsed faster, its rhythm no longer steady but erratic, like a trapped animal thrashing against its cage. Nova drifted closer, her form flickering as she studied the monitor.
"They know," she said quietly.
"Who knows?"
Nova didn't answer. Her projection shimmered faintly, her light dimming to near darkness. "We need to leave."
Ridan stared at her, disbelief freezing him in place. "Leave? What are you talking about? This is my apartment!"
Nova tilted her head again, and this time, Ridan didn't feel annoyance. He felt dread.
"Your apartment," she said slowly, "is about to become very popular."