Elliot sat hunched over the kitchen table, the faint hum of his refrigerator the only sound that filled the empty apartment. His eyes were heavy, a dull ache throbbing in his temples as he stared at the book in front of him. The words on the pages blurred together, the cryptic symbols twisting before his tired eyes.
He hadn't been able to put it down since he'd gotten home. His sleep deprivation, coupled with the odd pull the book seemed to have on him, kept his mind fraying at the edges. Every time he blinked, the world around him felt slightly different, as if the walls were inching closer. He rubbed his eyes, groaning.
"Guess I'll take a nap," he muttered, leaning back in his chair.
The book lay there, still open, but his vision was starting to blur. His body felt heavy, and the pull of exhaustion was too much to fight. He laid his head down, surrendering to the sleep he had been denying for days.
Elliot awoke to the harsh light of morning streaming through his window. His body ached from the way he'd fallen asleep, his limbs stiff and uncomfortable. Blinking rapidly, he shook his head to clear the fog from his mind, as though the haze of sleep hadn't quite left him.
For a few moments, he lay still, trying to reorient himself. It wasn't unusual for him to wake up feeling disoriented—he hadn't been sleeping well—but something about today felt different. Something was off.
He got up slowly, his feet dragging across the cold wooden floor, and went through his usual morning routine. Shower, brush teeth, stare at himself in the mirror for far too long. Nothing about today was unusual. It was just another dull day in his monotonous life. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. Nothing ever changed, and that seemed to be the worst part of it all.
Yet, as he stood in front of his kitchen sink, absentmindedly rinsing a mug, his gaze flicked toward the small table.
The book.
It was still there, open, lying in front of him. It almost looked as if it had moved since last night—had he been dreaming? He couldn't remember. The world still felt a little foggy, but it was enough to grab his attention.
His stomach churned with the feeling that something wasn't right. The air was still, too still, as if everything around him was waiting for something to happen.
Hesitantly, he walked over to the book, his hand hovering above it. His mind still felt fuzzy, like he was just waking up from a deep sleep, but there was a sense of urgency now that he couldn't shake off.
The symbols on the page seemed different somehow—more vivid, as though they were pulsing with life. As he read, the words seemed to come alive in his head