In the video, the hallway was dark. A figure stood perfectly still just outside his bedroom door. It was Elias, or something wearing his favorite gray hoodie, staring at the wood of the door with an intensity that made his skin crawl.

On-screen, the Elias-thing leaned in. It didn't knock. It whispered something—three distinct syllables—but the audio cut to static the moment its lips moved.

Elias sat in the silence of his room, his eyes locked on the bedroom door. From the other side, in the dark hallway he had just seen on his screen, he heard the soft, rhythmic thumping of a heartbeat. Then, a voice that sounded exactly like his own whispered: "Don't say it."

Elias looked at the video progress bar. There were ten seconds left. In the footage, the figure slowly turned its head toward the camera—toward the vent—and smiled. It wasn't a human smile; it had too many teeth and not enough soul. The video ended. The file vanished from the folder.