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Elias froze. The room on the screen wasn't a nursery anymore. The wallpaper had changed. It was now a perfect, pixel-for-pixel match of his own home office. The camera on the screen panned slowly to the right, mimicking the exact movement a person would make if they were standing in his doorway.

The video started in the middle of a hallway. The camera was low to the ground, moving with a rhythmic, wet sliding sound. There was no music, only the heavy, labored breathing of someone—or something—holding the recording device. The walls were covered in patterned wallpaper that seemed to vibrate, the floral prints shifting and blooming like time-lapse rot. 1_5015151986333450365.avi

At the sixty-second mark, the camera turned into a room. It was a nursery. A wooden crib sat in the center, but it was oversized, built for something the size of a grown man. The breathing on the audio sharpened into a rhythmic clicking. Elias froze

Elias found it in a corrupted folder on a drive he’d bought at a liquidator’s auction. Most of the files were dead—zero-byte ghosts of spreadsheets and family photos—but this one was heavy. It was nearly four gigabytes for a clip that claimed to be only three minutes long. It was now a perfect, pixel-for-pixel match of

The video didn't loop. The screen didn't go black. The image just stayed there, a live feed of his own room from a second ago. Then, the figure in the video dropped the camera.