Ethan didn't recognize the name at first.
It appeared on his phone screen just past midnight, not as a call, not as a message, but as a pinned location. No notification sound, no vibration—just a quiet presence, as if it had always been there waiting for him to notice. He stared at it for a few seconds, his thumb hovering over the screen, before he muttered, "You're not even trying to hide it anymore, are you?"
"No," Aval replied. "You are listening now."
Ethan exhaled slowly and grabbed his jacket. Cassidy Hills wasn't in the city. That much he knew. It sat on the edge of the outskirts, a quiet residential area that most people passed through without thinking twice. Nothing about it should have stood out.
Which meant something was very wrong.
The drive felt longer than it should have. The roads emptied out gradually, the bright lights of the city giving way to dim street lamps and stretches of silence. By the time Ethan reached the entrance sign—CASSIDY HILLS carved into a clean white board—the air had already changed. It wasn't cold like the mountains or unnatural like the alley.
It was still.
Too still.
Ethan stepped out of the car and immediately noticed the absence of sound. No dogs barking, no distant traffic, not even the faint hum of electricity. The houses stood neatly arranged on either side of the street, identical in structure, identical in spacing, like they had been placed rather than built.
"…This is wrong," Ethan said quietly.
"Yes," Aval responded. "This is containment."
Ethan frowned. "Containment for what?"
Aval didn't answer.
That was enough to put him on edge.
He stepped forward cautiously, his eyes scanning the rows of houses. Every window was dark. Every door closed. It looked abandoned—but not in the usual way. There was no decay, no damage. Everything was intact.
Preserved.
Like something had paused this place.
Ethan approached the nearest house and knocked.
No response.
He tried the handle.
Unlocked.
The door creaked open slowly, revealing a perfectly normal living room. Furniture arranged neatly, lights off, everything in place. He stepped inside, his footsteps echoing faintly in the silence.
"Hello?" he called out.
Nothing.
He moved deeper into the house, checking each room. Kitchen. Hallway. Bedroom.
Empty.
But not unused.
There were signs of life everywhere—plates in the sink, clothes folded on chairs, a television remote placed carefully on a table. It looked like someone had just… left.
Or been removed.
Ethan's chest tightened slightly.
"This isn't a call," he said.
"No," Aval replied. "This is accumulation."
That word again.
Ethan turned toward the window, looking out at the identical houses stretching into the distance. "…How many?"
"A cluster."
"That's not a number."
"It is enough."
Ethan clenched his jaw. "Enough for what?"
Aval didn't respond.
Ethan stepped back outside.
The air felt heavier now.
Like it had been waiting.
He moved further down the street, his pace slow but steady, his senses on edge. As he passed the third house, something caught his attention.
A flicker.
Not light.
Movement.
At the far end of the street.
Ethan stopped.
"…I see you," he said quietly.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then—
A figure stepped out.
A woman.
Young. Maybe mid-twenties.
Standing still.
Watching him.
Ethan didn't move closer immediately. Something about her presence felt… controlled. Not like Egor. Not unstable. But not normal either.
"…You're early," she said.
Her voice was calm.
Too calm.
Ethan narrowed his eyes slightly. "You knew I was coming?"
"Yes."
"How?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Because I didn't call."
That made his chest tighten.
"…Then why am I here?"
She smiled faintly. "Because I did."
Ethan didn't like that answer.
"…You're a user," he said.
She didn't deny it.
Instead, she stepped closer into the faint light.
"Cassidy," she said.
Ethan noted the name.
"…Ethan."
"I know."
Of course she did.
Ethan's gaze sharpened. "What is this place?"
Cassidy glanced around the empty street, her expression unreadable. "A solution."
"To what?"
"To them."
Ethan frowned. "Them?"
She raised her hand slightly.
And Ethan felt it.
Immediately.
The pressure.
The distortion.
But unlike Egor—
It was stable.
Contained.
Controlled.
Ethan's eyes widened slightly. "…You're holding it back."
Cassidy nodded once. "Yes."
A low hum filled the air.
Subtle.
But constant.
Ethan looked around.
And then he saw it.
The houses.
Not empty.
Filled.
Not physically.
But something was inside them.
Something pressed against the walls, against the windows, against the space itself, like it was trying to get out.
"…Those are calls," Ethan said quietly.
"Yes," Cassidy replied.
"How many?"
"All of them."
Ethan's chest tightened.
"That's not possible."
"It shouldn't be."
Silence stretched between them.
Ethan stepped forward slowly, his voice lowering. "You're containing all of this… alone?"
Cassidy didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"For now."
That didn't sound reassuring.
Ethan looked at her more carefully now. Her posture was steady, her expression composed—but there was strain beneath it. Subtle. Controlled.
But there.
"…Why?" he asked.
Cassidy met his gaze.
"Because someone has to choose differently."
Ethan frowned. "Differently from what?"
She didn't answer directly.
Instead, she asked, "How many have you taken?"
Ethan hesitated.
"…Three."
Cassidy's expression didn't change.
But something in her eyes did.
"…You're still early," she said.
Ethan exhaled. "Yeah, I've heard that before."
"Then listen this time."
The air shifted slightly.
Ethan felt it.
A tremor.
Small.
But real.
Cassidy's gaze flickered briefly toward one of the houses.
"…They're pushing harder," she said quietly.
Ethan followed her line of sight.
The window of the nearest house—
Cracked.
Not physically.
Something deeper.
"…What happens if you fail?" he asked.
Cassidy didn't look at him.
"They don't go back."
That was enough.
Ethan stepped forward, his jaw tightening. "…Then I'm helping."
Cassidy shook her head immediately. "No."
Ethan frowned. "No?"
"You don't understand what this is."
"Then explain it."
"I can't," she said. "Not fast enough."
Another tremor ran through the street.
Stronger this time.
The hum intensified.
Ethan's arm burned slightly.
The mark reacting.
"…They're breaking through," he said.
Cassidy didn't deny it.
Instead, she looked at him.
Really looked at him.
"…If you step in," she said quietly, "you don't get to step out."
Ethan held her gaze.
"…I don't think I ever could."
Silence.
Then—
A sharp crack echoed across Cassidy Hills.
The nearest house—
Split.
Not physically.
But something inside it tore open.
And something—
Started coming out.