Page 76 of Lost Echoes

Sofia grabs my hand. “We move now. Then we have to find the others. Hurry!”

I nod, forcing air into my lungs, forcing my feet to move.

As we race, the lights flicker again, just once. And through the broken static of the intercom, I hear that distorted voice one last time.

“The performance isn’t over. It’s your cue.”

I stop in my tracks.

38

Billa

An alarm splits the air. It’s a jagged, metallic wail that seems to come from everywhere at once. Red lights flash along the ceiling, painting the white walls in blood.

Luke curses, fingers flying over the tablet. “Feed’s gone. Hard cut. It looks like they wiped everything.”

Florencia’s already moving, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Then we go analog and get them out.”

Ember’s eyes dart to me. “The west wing.”

I nod then burst into a run.

The corridor bucks with light, each pulse a heartbeat. Somewhere in the distance, numerous doors slam shut. They’re locking down the building.

Luke sprints ahead, bypassing the keypad on the main security door with a small black device in his hand. Sparks jump, then the door clicks open. “Hurry!”

We rush through. The hallway beyond smells of smoke and burned plastic. When we turn the corner, there’s a trail of white thread stretched along the floor, looped around corners, leading deeper into the wing.

Ember skids to a stop. “No, not the spool.”

Florencia stares. “It’s the same signature, the same pattern from Radley.”

My stomach turns cold. “It has to be Phoenix.”

Luke’s head snaps up. “What do you mean? He’s dead.”

“We never knew that. They took him.”

Ember’s face pales. “He’s here now.”

Florencia’s expression grows even grimmer. “We have to stop him.”

No one argues, though it’s obvious Ember and Luke are conflicted, as they’re the ones who had talked to him.

We follow the thread. It glows faintly in the red light, leading us past shattered glass and overturned equipment. The sound of the alarm fades under static from the intercoms, like a voice trying to push through but caught in a loop.

We reach the rehearsal hall doors. The glass is blown out. Inside, the light flickers.

I step through first. Kenzi could be in there.

The room is chaos. Smoke hangs in the air, the walls are alive with half-burned projections. Old performance footage flickers on the cracked monitors, showing children reciting lines, lights dimming, curtains falling.

But the chair in the center is empty. No Radley, Sofia, or Kenzi. Not even Phoenix. Just the trail of thread, coiling into the open vent shaft at the back of the room.

Ember kneels beside the chair, brushing away a piece of glass. “They were here. Minutes ago.”

Luke scans the room with his flashlight. “There’s an access tunnel under a vent somewhere in here. It leads to the east maintenance wing.”