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The Vanishing Hour

DEADLY_GAMING_YT
28
chs / week
The average realized release rate over the past 30 days is 28 chs / week.
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Synopsis
When Elias Mercer wakes up in a hospital with no memory, covered in blood, and holding a cryptic note, his life takes an unexpected turn. Unable to recall his past, Elias is thrust into a world of conspiracy, manipulation, and supernatural forces. A mysterious woman claims to be his only ally, revealing that Elias’s memories have been erased as part of an ancient project by the Council—a powerful, secretive organization that has been pulling the strings behind history’s most significant events for centuries. As Elias starts to uncover the truth about his past, he learns that he’s not just a victim of the Council’s mind-altering experiments—he is the key to stopping them. But the more he remembers, the more dangerous his situation becomes. The Council will stop at nothing to eliminate him, and the line between friend and foe begins to blur as Elias is forced to confront his own identity and the dark secrets he’s been buried under. In a race against time, Elias must navigate a world where nothing is what it seems, uncovering hidden truths about the supernatural, crime, and his own fractured psyche. As the Vanishing Hour—the moment of ultimate reckoning—approaches, Elias must decide whether to embrace the past he can’t remember or fight against the forces that want to rewrite everything he is.
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Chapter 1 - A Wakeful Night

Elias Mercer's eyes snapped open, a harsh rush of air filling his lungs as his body jerked upright in the sterile white bed. His heart hammered, and the world around him spun. The faint smell of antiseptic lingered in the air, sharp and metallic. He blinked, but it didn't help. His head throbbed, his vision blurry, and there was a tightness in his chest, like something was pressing down on him.

He wasn't sure where he was.

Panic crept up his spine as his eyes scanned the room. The walls were a cold, lifeless white, the harsh fluorescent lights flickering above. It looked like a hospital, but something was off—something that he couldn't quite place. The room was too quiet, too empty. His fingers brushed the sheet beneath him, smooth and clean, but it didn't feel real.

He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, but that didn't stop the feeling of dread gnawing at the back of his mind. Something wasn't right. His chest felt heavy, and as he lifted his hand to his face, he found his skin covered in cold sweat.

His gaze shifted, falling on the bedside table. There was a piece of paper there—scrap of white, a single word written on it in jagged, hurried handwriting.

RUN.

His fingers trembled as he reached for it, gripping the paper tightly as if the words were some kind of lifeline. He turned it over, but there was nothing else. Just that one cryptic message. The adrenaline surged in his bloodstream, urging him to act, but he was paralyzed with confusion.

He had no idea who had written it.

He hadn't even known his own name until the nurse had spoken it earlier—Elias Mercer, she'd said, her voice soft and clinical, like he was just another patient. But Elias... the name felt foreign. It didn't fit him. Nothing about this place felt like it belonged to him, not the room, not the name. His past was a blur, an empty void.

His thoughts spiraled, his breath shallow. Panic bubbled beneath the surface. He struggled to remember anything before this moment—anything about who he was or how he had ended up here—but the harder he tried, the further away it slipped.

What happened to me?

He needed to get out. The word "RUN" was like an alarm bell in his head. But how could he trust it?

Without another thought, Elias swung his legs over the side of the bed. His body felt weak, his muscles uncooperative, like he hadn't used them in days. He staggered slightly but caught himself against the edge of the bed. The cold tile beneath his feet sent a chill up his spine.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed himself up, one shaky step after another. The room felt wrong, its silence oppressive. No sounds of life outside the door, no nurses bustling in the hall.

He reached for the door handle, but before he could touch it, the sound of footsteps reached his ears. Footsteps coming closer.

Elias froze.

He wasn't supposed to be here, was he? And why was he the only one awake?

The footsteps stopped just outside the door. The handle turned. Elias stepped back, his heart racing, every muscle in his body coiled with tension. The door opened slowly, a figure silhouetted against the dim hallway light.

A woman. She was dressed in dark clothes, a heavy black coat that seemed too big for her slender frame, her face shadowed beneath the hood. She didn't speak immediately, but her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that made Elias's stomach tighten. Her gaze was sharp, calculating.

"Who are you?" Elias demanded, his voice shaky but louder than he intended.

She didn't respond right away. Instead, she stepped into the room, her eyes flicking to the note in his hand. The word RUN was scrawled across the paper, and she grimaced at the sight of it.

"You don't remember anything, do you?" she asked softly, her voice low and steady, as if she were speaking to a child.

"Remember? What's going on? Where am I?" Elias's voice broke slightly, frustration creeping in.

The woman's eyes softened, but only for a moment. Then she stepped closer, her eyes scanning the room, as if searching for something—or someone. She didn't seem surprised to find him awake.

"You're in a facility. A hospital, though I'm not sure it's really one you should trust," she said, her words clipped but purposeful. "And no, you don't remember anything. That's... to be expected." She hesitated, biting her lip, before adding, "That's part of it. You weren't supposed to wake up."

Elias stared at her, trying to make sense of her words.

"I don't—" he started, but she held up a hand, cutting him off.

"We don't have much time. Someone's going to come looking for you. You need to get out of here. Now." She took a step forward and grabbed his arm, pulling him gently but firmly toward the door.

"No," Elias protested, his confusion turning to a knot of panic. "I'm not going anywhere with you. I don't even know who you are."

She didn't flinch, didn't seem surprised. "I'm the only chance you've got right now."

Elias glanced around, looking for an escape. There was no way he could stay here, not with whatever—or whoever—was coming for him. The room was too quiet, too still. The feeling of wrongness clung to everything, like the walls were closing in on him.

"Why? Why would I trust you?"

"Because if you don't, they'll find you," she said firmly, her voice hardening. "And you won't like what happens next."

He looked at her again—at the uncertainty in his own reflection in her eyes—and hesitated.

"I can't just leave," he muttered, but his resolve was starting to crack. Something about the way she spoke made it hard to argue. Her urgency, her sincerity—it all felt real.

She sighed, releasing his arm, then moved toward the door. "You don't have a choice. Not anymore."

She stepped into the hallway, turning briefly to give him one last look. "Follow me, or stay here. But know this: if you stay here, you won't live to remember anything. And you may never wake up again."

Her words hung in the air long after she was gone.

Elias took a step toward the door, then another, and another. He couldn't remember anything—his past, his life, his purpose. But he knew one thing for sure: he had to leave this place, and he had to do it fast.

He followed her.