You wake up to find your phone buzzing. A message from an unknown number: a single image.

It’s Beck. She’s standing in front of a building you don’t recognize, holding a book with no title. Her eyes meet the camera, but there’s something… off. You try calling her, texting her, but nothing works.

Panic sets in. Beck isn’t answering. You notice a tiny note scribbled in the corner of the photo: “Meet me where stories end.”

You retrace every place she’s ever mentioned, every café, every bookstore, every hidden corner of the city—but nothing feels right. Hours pass. Her absence gnaws at you.

Then a faint email arrives. It’s blank except for a pin on a map. You recognize the area vaguely—it’s abandoned, old, and somehow familiar.

Your heart pounds as you step toward the location. Every street looks the same, every shadow stretches too long. And then you see it: the building from the photo. The doors are slightly ajar.

You hesitate. Beck’s voice echoes in your mind: “Some stories only reveal themselves to those brave enough to follow.”

You push the door open, and the air smells like paper and rain. The room is empty… except for a single book lying on a pedestal. You pick it up, and your pulse jumps: her name is written on the first page.

You’re not sure what you’ll find inside, but one thing is certain—Beck is somewhere beyond, and she left this trail for you to follow.