Rain fell in thin silver threads, streaking down the glass of Isaac Veyron's bedroom window. Outside, the city was a blur of neon reflections and wet asphalt, the kind of night that felt alive with secrets and whispers. Even the ordinary sounds—the distant hum of streetlamps, the occasional splash of a passing car—seemed heavier, as if the world itself were holding its breath.
Isaac pressed his palm against the cold glass, staring down at the quiet streets. He should have been thinking about homework or whether the old train would run on time in the morning. But he wasn't. His thoughts had been consumed by something else—a whisper.
It started earlier that evening.
At first, it was so faint he thought he had imagined it. A voice, soft and barely audible, whispering words he didn't recognize. But as he leaned back in his chair and shut his eyes, the words came again, clearer this time.
"Stop."
He hadn't moved. The voice was… familiar. Terrifyingly familiar. It sounded like him. But it couldn't be. He had never spoken those words before. Not tonight. Not ever.
"Stop, Isaac."
His heart thumped painfully in his chest. The rhythm matched the relentless beat of the rain outside. Cold sweat ran down his spine. His apartment—small, dimly lit, and cluttered with books, old electronics, and the faint scent of rain from the window—felt suddenly too tight, too fragile.
Isaac swallowed hard and muttered to himself, "I'm imagining things. It's just my imagination."
But deep down, he knew it wasn't.
---
The first echo came after midnight.
Isaac had been lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, trying to calm his racing thoughts. The rain drummed steadily against the roof, hypnotic and relentless. Then he heard it again: the voice.
"Don't move. Not yet."
This time, it was accompanied by a chill, like icy fingers brushing the back of his neck. He bolted upright, scanning the dark corners of his room, heart hammering.
"Who's there?" he demanded, his voice cracking in the emptiness.
No answer.
And yet, he felt it. Something… watching. Something that wasn't supposed to be there. Something that moved outside the boundaries of reality itself.
Then it spoke again:
"Isaac. Look at the mirror."
---
His bedroom mirror was old and cracked in the corner of the room. He hadn't noticed it much before, a hand-me-down from a neighbor who moved away, its edges chipped and stained. But now it seemed… wrong.
He approached it slowly, heart hammering, each step echoing in the silence of the room. The mirror's surface shimmered oddly, as if it wasn't reflecting the room accurately. The reflection of his own face stared back at him—but something was off. His eyes… they were older. Hardened. Wounded.
Isaac stumbled back. "No… this isn't real."
The reflection tilted its head and spoke. Not in words he expected, but in a tone that resonated deep in his chest.
"It is. And I'm you."
Isaac's breath caught. The rain outside seemed to fade, replaced by a silence so deep it pressed against his eardrums. "I… I don't understand."
"You will. Soon enough."
Then the reflection's eyes flickered like a dying flame, and it was gone.
---
The next morning, the world didn't feel any more ordinary.
The city smelled of wet concrete and distant smoke. Cars splashed through puddles on the streets, headlights cutting through the mist. Isaac trudged to school, backpack slung over one shoulder, trying to shake the memory of the mirror and the voice that sounded exactly like him.
He passed the usual groups of students, laughing and chatting, oblivious to the strange events that had begun to consume his nights. He wanted to tell someone—anyone—but the thought of explaining the impossible made him tighten his fists. How could he tell anyone that a future version of himself had spoken to him through a mirror? That voices from another timeline whispered in his ears, warning him about things that hadn't happened yet?
He kept his head down, tried to focus on the mundane.
Then he heard it again.
A whisper, softer than the wind, echoing in his mind:
"Follow the path. Do not trust what smiles."
Isaac froze in the middle of the street. His stomach twisted. He looked around. No one noticed. No one heard. Only he could.
---
By lunchtime, Isaac couldn't ignore it any longer.
He slipped into the school's empty library, the smell of old books and polished wood filling the air. He needed answers, some kind of guidance, even if it didn't exist.
"Why are you doing this to me?" he whispered to himself, pacing between rows of shelves.
The air shimmered slightly near the back of the room. A figure stepped forward—a girl.
Short hair, sharp eyes, and a silver ring on her finger that caught the light and reflected it strangely. She smiled faintly.
"You're Isaac Veyron," she said. Her voice was calm, but it carried a weight that made Isaac's pulse spike.
"I… uh… yeah," he stammered. "Do I know you?"
"No. But I know you," she replied. "And I know what's happening to you."
Isaac's mind raced. "You… you know about the echoes?"
She nodded. "I've heard them too. But they're not just whispers. They're fragments—parts of yourself from futures that may or may not come to pass. They want to warn you… or guide you… or trick you. And not all of them tell the truth."
Isaac's pulse quickened. "Then… which one do I trust?"
The girl's eyes darkened. "That's what you have to figure out. Fast. Because not all who warn you have your best interests at heart."
---
Hours passed in a blur. Isaac left school early, the girl—Lira, as she introduced herself—following silently. They walked in silence through alleys slick with rain. Neon lights reflected in the puddles around their feet, painting the wet walls in sharp blues and reds.
"You need to understand something about echoes," Lira said finally. "They're not just messages. They are versions of yourself that exist in other timelines. Each choice creates a branch. Every action has a consequence. And some branches… some of them are dangerous."
Isaac shivered. "Dangerous how?"
"Some show you as a hero," she explained. "Some as a monster. And some… some you might not even exist in at all. The echoes aren't lying, but they're not always honest either. They filter reality through the lens of what they need you to do."
Isaac felt his stomach tighten. "So… what? I'm supposed to choose? One future over the others?"
"Yes," Lira said quietly. "And if you choose wrong… you won't just lose a timeline. You could lose yourself."
A sudden chill passed through the alley, and Isaac felt the air thicken. Shadows moved against the walls, almost alive, bending and stretching unnaturally.
"They're here," Lira whispered, gripping his arm. "Not echoes. Something else. Something hunting us."
The distant streetlamp flickered, and Isaac saw a figure emerging from the fog. Tall, black coat flowing like smoke, eyes sharp and gray—human, but wrong. Too calm. Too… deliberate.
Alden.
Isaac felt his heart leap to his throat. The first act of fear, real and bone-deep, struck him. The world felt narrower. His options fewer. His breaths shallow.
"Run," whispered the echo again.
Isaac didn't. He couldn't.
He looked at Lira. She nodded slightly, understanding the unspoken question: How do we survive this?
And in that moment, he realized it wasn't just about running. It wasn't just about listening. It was about choosing—choosing which echo to follow, which path to take, and which version of himself he would allow to live.
The rain fell harder. The city seemed to close in. And the first thread of his destiny began to unravel.