File: Andromalius.zip ... -

I’ve been watching the clock for what feels like hours. It hasn't moved to 3:15. I think he's still in the room, waiting for the extraction to finish.

But in the video feed on the screen, there was a figure standing directly behind me. It was tall, draped in robes that looked like static, its face a void where features should be. It held a coil of rope in one hand and a heavy, rusted iron key in the other. File: ANDROMALIUS.zip ...

I opened it. The notepad window filled the screen, but it didn't contain text. It was a live feed of my own webcam. The resolution was grainy, washed in the sickly green of night vision. In the reflection of my monitor, I could see myself sitting in my chair. I’ve been watching the clock for what feels like hours

When I finally managed to restart the computer, the file was gone. My desktop was back to normal. But when I looked at the clock, it was 3:14 AM again. But in the video feed on the screen,

There were no progress bars. There was no "Success" message. Instead, my desktop icons began to rearrange themselves. They didn’t snap to the grid; they drifted like debris in a slow-moving current, clustering in the center of the screen to form a crude, pixelated shape—a serpent held in a human hand.