The forest swallowed us whole.
Each step through the mud sounded too loud, echoing in ways that didn't make sense — like the noise was coming a second too late. The rain had thinned to a mist now, but the fog had thickened, clinging to our clothes and hair, cold and metallic.
Mira kept glancing over her shoulder. "I hate how quiet this place is. Even the bugs know to stay away."
"They adapt faster than we do," Silva replied without turning, brushing a wet strand of hair from her face. "When the air hums, lesser lifeforms stop breathing."
"Uh-huh. Great. Totally comforting, Chief," Mira muttered, tightening her jacket.
We pushed forward through the undergrowth, the faint red glow of the radio tower fading behind us. The deeper we went, the more it felt like the forest was tilting inward — the trees bending slightly toward our direction, their roots crawling across the ground like veins.
Every so often, my earpiece buzzed, faint static whispering between drops of rain.
[—Theo—f■■r m■■utes—lat■—]
My stomach tightened. "Silva… I think the signal's trying to tell me something again."
"Do not engage," she said calmly. "It's calculating probabilities, not truths. If you answer, you'll confirm one."
"Yeah," Mira muttered. "And then it's game over."
Still, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had heard Theo's voice — buried beneath the distortion, calling out from somewhere much deeper than the tunnels should've gone.
---
Theo's flashlight beam trembled as he descended the narrow staircase, each step groaning beneath his boots. The air smelled of rust and burnt circuitry — thick, electric, like breathing in static.
"Okay," he muttered under his breath. "Creepy underground bunker under a haunted radio tower. Totally fine. Seen worse. Probably."
The tunnel walls were lined with half-melted cables, snaking like veins. Every few meters, a faint red emergency light flickered to life — never in sync. Some flashed ahead, others behind, as if the system couldn't decide what time it was.
Then his earpiece crackled.
[—Th■■—s■■■■■—]
Theo huffed. "Oh great, garbled ghosts. Just what I needed."
[—mi■■—■e■th—at—■■tr■■■e—]
He froze mid-step. "Wait… Mira? What about the entrance?"
Static answered him. Then —
[—m■■■—s■■s—] the voice repeated, slightly clearer now, [—d■n't—t■rn—arou■■—]
A cold ripple crawled down his spine.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep walking — slower now, eyes fixed on the next step. He didn't turn. He didn't need to. The soft scuff of another pair of footsteps echoed behind him, matching his pace perfectly.
When he paused, it paused.
When he moved again, it followed.
And then, faintly, the voice came once more — not through his earpiece this time, but from the tunnel itself.
[—yo■■—lat■—th■■—]
Theo's breath hitched. That was his own voice.
---
[ D■■th—a■■a■ ]
After fifteen minutes of trudging through mud and fog, we reached a clearing — and there it stood.
Another radio tower.
"What?" Mira's voice broke through the static-laced rain. "There's only supposed to be one, right?"
"It may be connected to the underground passage Theo is traversing," Silva said, already moving toward it. "Let's proceed inside."
We followed her in. The control room greeted us like a photograph we'd already seen. The same burnt panels. The same blinking console. Even the same half-drunk cup of coffee sitting by the monitor.
"It's… the exact same one," I murmured.
My head throbbed — a sudden pressure blooming behind my eyes, like the air itself had folded in half. A wave of déjà vu crashed through me, dizzying and nauseating.
"Do you guys feel that?" I asked. "Like we've—already been here?"
"Negative," Silva said simply.
"Not really," Mira replied, frowning. "Though now that you said it…"
The speakers crackled, interrupting her.
[—four rem■in—]
[—time rewinds wh■n belief begins—]
"That again…" I muttered. "It said the same thing before."
Silva stepped closer to the console, her reflection ghosting across the dark screen. "It's adapting," she murmured. "Repeating phrases that resonate. Trying to fix us in place."
"Fix us?" Mira asked.
Silva didn't look away. "Yes. The anomaly thrives on certainty. If it can make you believe something, it can make it true."
A low hum began to build from the floor beneath us, vibrating through the soles of our boots. The console flickered, lines of distorted text crawling across it — fragments of words, coordinates, and timestamps.
[—09:23—reentry confirmed—]
[—Theo—sighted—control room—]
I froze. "Wait, what?"
Mira's eyes widened. "That's—our room. But he's underground."
The monitors flared to life, static swirling like fog.
For a split second, we saw him — Theo, standing inside a control room identical to ours. Only… he wasn't moving.
He was looking straight at the screen.
At us.
For a moment, nobody spoke. The only sound was the steady hum vibrating through the floor — a low, pulsing rhythm that seemed to match our heartbeats.
Theo's frozen image flickered on the monitors again, static rippling across the glass like waves. He was standing in the same control room — same layout, same everything — except there was no light. Just his flashlight, swinging faintly, illuminating the walls in fragmented arcs.
Then the feed stuttered.
He moved.
"—Yuwon?" His voice echoed faintly through our speakers, distorted but unmistakable. "Chief? Mira? Anyone—?"
Mira gasped. "He can see us!"
"Wait," I whispered, eyes narrowing. "Can he see us now, or… are we seeing something that's already happened?"
Silva tilted her head, blinking once, then twice. "The second option appears… statistically unpleasant, but correct."
Theo's voice grew louder — clearer.
"I don't know what's happening, but the tunnel led me back here! There's no exit! The clock on the console says 8:42 PM — what time is it for you guys?"
I glanced at my watch. 9:57 PM.
My stomach dropped.
"...We're out of sync," I said quietly.
Mira paled. "Wait — are you saying Theo got stuck inside this anomaly before we ever even entered it?"
Silva's impression darkned as she clenched one of her fists— the first sign of tension I'd ever seen from her. "The anomaly is segmenting timelines like radio channels. We are hearing him through delayed resonance."
Theo's voice cut through again.
"There's something off about the air in here — it's like it's thick. Every time I blink, things move. The tower outside… it's gone."
The static flared. The feed glitched — for a single frame, Theo's reflection on the monitor turned its head independently from him.
[—t■me sync err■■r—]
[—re■■nstance requ■■red—]
The console lights flared white, and suddenly the air inside the room snapped — like an invisible pressure shift. My vision blurred. The ground lurched sideways, then folded in on itself.
"Mira—Silva—"
The words tore from my throat, but they didn't sound like my own voice anymore. The color drained from everything — red lights fading to grey, sound vanishing except for a distant heartbeat.
And then — silence.
When my vision cleared, I was standing in the same control room.
Only... it was empty.
The monitors still glowed, but the screens showed nothing. The forest outside was gone, replaced by a flat white fog. No thunder, no rain. No Mira. No Silva.
Just me.
I turned slowly toward the window — and froze.
Across the clearing, another tower stood, identical down to the cracks in its metal frame.
And through the window of that tower — I could see Mira and Silva.
They were standing exactly where I'd been seconds ago, staring at something invisible to them. I pounded on the glass. "HEY! SILVA! MIRA!"
No response. My voice didn't carry. Not even an echo.
Then, faintly through the earpiece:
[—s■■parate ch■■nels c■■firmed—]
[—synchro■■zation impossible—]
And just beneath that — a whisper, almost human.
[—cho■■se wh■ch t■wer s■■rvives—]
"What?!" Cold sweat, panic and nausea all hit me at once, hard enough for me to almost pass out.
[09]
"Think Yuwon!" I grabbed my head going through tens and even hundreds of possibilities.
[08]
Thoughts and memories clashed with my mind.
"[Time rewinds when belief begins]"
Then Silva's words "Yes. The anomaly thrives on certainty. If it can make you believe something, it can make it true."
My mind spun. The words repeated in my head — Silva's voice overlapping with the anomaly's:
It thrives on certainty. When belief begins, time rewinds.
[07]
'Hold on... the anomaly doesn't predict a set future but multiple possibilities... If belief could bend its rules… then maybe disbelief could break them. If i don't believe in any of the futures its providing, then it can't anchor any of them!'
"Alright," I whispered, pacing the empty room, every step echoing like I was walking inside a speaker. "You feed on conviction… so i'll have to stop believing altogether."
[06]
The console flickered. Lines of code rearranged, almost questioning me. The static hissed louder, pressing against my skull.
[—obs■rvation requ■■red—]
"Sure," I muttered. "But you don't get to observe me. Not if the 'me' of this Timeline deliberately stays here. You're not going to destroy any of the towers, and i'll be the one observing the next couple of loops, no matter the cost."
That was it — the loophole. The anomaly didn't understand paradox. It calculated probabilities. Futures. Predictions.
But if I became something that couldn't be predicted — something undefined — I'd slip between its channels. Even if I had to become a part of it.
I took a deep breath, closing my eyes.
The hum changed pitch, rising like an alarm.
[05]
Light fractured across the room — red, white, black — folding in on itself. The floor felt fluid under my boots. The monitors split into hundreds of fragments, each one reflecting a different version of me — some terrified, some calm, some gone entirely.
I picked one reflection — the calm one — and stared straight into it.
"If belief starts the loop…" I whispered, "…then disbelief breaks it."
The reflection smiled back — not sinister, not human either, more like a mirror agreeing.
Then the world tilted.
The fog outside the window rippled like water, and for a split second, I saw through it — through time itself.
Theo's flashlight flickered belowground. Mira's hand hovered over the console in the other tower. Silva was looking around, her lips moving, but no sound reached me.
The anomaly's voice returned — warped, uncertain now.
[—st■te indet■■minate—]
[—p■rse err■■—]
[—corr■■■■■■■]
It was panicking.
I stepped closer to the console, my heartbeat syncing with the pulsing static. "You wanted a timeline to feed on? I'll choke you with all of them until you self destruct."
I pressed both palms to the screen. "Resync: manual override. Observation anchor — Yuwon."
The tower trembled. Glass cracked. The fog convulsed outward like breath being forced from lungs. Across the clearing, I saw the other tower — Mira and Silva's version — flicker in and out of existence, strobing between light and shadow.
"Come on, come on…"
[04]
The air shattered — a thunderclap without sound. My reflection split again — this time, thousands of versions branching like tree roots, spreading through the walls, the air, even the light.
Each one whispered something different.
This will kill you.
You've done this before.
Don't stop now.
I forced the thoughts down. "I don't believe you."
The hum snapped, and for a heartbeat — no, less — everything aligned.
Static roared, drowning everything.
[——]
[—belief c■rrupted—]