Halfway through the book, Elena reached a chapter that wasn't listed in the official table of contents. The text changed. The font grew jagged. It wasn't a story anymore; it was a list of names. And Elena’s was at the top.

She reached to delete the file, but the screen froze. A final line of text appeared, pulsing in red: "Thank you for finishing the story, Elena. Now, you get to write the ending."

As the EPUB file opened on her e-reader, the first sentence hit Elena like a physical blow: "Evil doesn't arrive with a thunderclap; it settles like the morning mist."

Elena spent the night scrolling. The further she got into the digital pages, the more the lines between Sierra’s prose and Elena’s own memories began to blur. The descriptions of the victim's house matched her neighbor’s old villa. The dialogue felt like transcripts of conversations she’d overheard at the local bakery.