Mason hadn’t expected much from this new apartment.

It was… quiet. Empty. His own decisions finally mattered here. He’d unpacked a few boxes, a small victory, but leaving chaos in every corner wasn’t his style.

After a long day wrestling with cardboard and bubble wrap, he changed into his pajamas and collapsed onto the bed left behind by the old owner. Springs groaned beneath him. The mattress sagged in protest. Yeah, he’d need a new one—soon.

The night was heavy. Rain pounded the windows, lightning jagged the sky outside, illuminating the cramped space in violent bursts. Mason slept… until he didn’t.

He woke to a paralysis that gripped him like iron. His body refused to obey. His mouth opened, but only a pitiful whimper emerged.

At the foot of the bed, a shadow moved.

It was tall—abnormally tall. Its form rippled and shimmered, a wet mix of black and dark blue, like ink spilled into water. And yet, somehow, it didn’t stain the floor. The thing flinched at the crackling thunder, recoiling as if the storm itself hurt it.

Then he saw the eyes.

White. Glowing faintly. Pupils darting—sharp, deliberate, and unnervingly intelligent.

Mason’s mind scrambled. Heart hammering. Breath caught.

What… is that?

The figure shifted closer, slow, deliberate, and somehow aware of the terror it evoked. The room smelled of wet earth and ozone, heavy and metallic. Every instinct screamed at Mason to move, to fight, to escape—but he couldn’t.

All he could do was stare, paralyzed, as the darkness at the foot of his bed pulsed with a life of its own.