Chapter 1: The Wrong Building

Chapter 1: The Wrong Building

The rain fell in a steady, determined rhythm, turning the city streets into a slick, grey mirror of the overcast sky. It was the kind of day that felt cozy from the inside, but miserable when you were caught in it. For Alex Thorne, however, it was just background noise to the easy banter of his friends.

“I’m telling you, it’s a conspiracy,” Max declared, pulling the hood of his sweatshirt further over his head. “They make umbrellas that break in the slightest wind just so you have to buy a new one every time it rains. Big Umbrella is a real thing.”

Chloe laughed, a bright sound that cut through the city’s dreary hum. “Right, and Big Puddle is in on it, aiming for your socks specifically.” She side-stepped a particularly treacherous pool of water with a practiced hop. “You’re just cheap, Max.”

Alex grinned, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his own soaked jacket. “He’s got a point. My last one inverted itself so fast I thought it was trying to achieve liftoff.”

They were taking their usual shortcut, a narrow street that cut behind a row of older shops. For the past six months, the corner they were approaching had been dominated by the skeletal frame of a new condominium complex. They’d watched it grow, week by week, a monument of steel and concrete rising from the mud. It was their landmark, the halfway point to the cafe where they’d planned to wait out the storm.

Alex glanced up, ready to make another joke about the slow pace of the construction crew, but the words died in his throat.

It was gone.

The entire construction site—the cranes, the scaffolding, the half-finished walls—had vanished. In its place stood a building that was profoundly, impossibly wrong.

It was a narrow, soot-stained structure of dark stone and tarnished brass, at least ten stories tall, wedged between the brick facades of its modern neighbors. Its architecture was a gothic nightmare of leering gargoyles and arched windows so dark they seemed to swallow the gray daylight. It looked ancient, as if it had been squatting on this corner for centuries, patiently waiting to be seen.

“Whoa,” Alex breathed, stopping dead in his tracks. The rain dripped from his dark hair into his eyes, but he didn't blink. “Guys… where did the construction site go?”

Max and Chloe walked a few more steps before noticing he’d stopped. They turned, looking back at him with confusion.

“What are you talking about?” Max asked, gesturing vaguely with his thumb. “It’s right there. Ugly as ever.”

“No, look,” Alex insisted, his voice rising with a frantic edge. He pointed a trembling finger. “That! That… building. It wasn’t there this morning. It wasn’t there a minute ago.”

Chloe squinted in the direction he was pointing. Her brow furrowed, but not in surprise. In concern. “Alex, are you feeling okay? It’s the same half-built condo we see every day. Did you hit your head?”

A cold dread, colder than the rain, began to seep into Alex’s bones. He looked from the monstrous stone edifice back to his friends’ bewildered faces. They couldn’t see it. They were looking right at it, but all they saw was steel and concrete.

“You… you really don’t see it?” he stammered. “The black stone? The pointy windows?”

“Dude, you’re starting to freak me out,” Max said, taking a step towards him. His easy-going expression was gone, replaced by a flicker of genuine worry. “Let’s just get to the cafe. You need some coffee or something.”

Alex felt a wave of dizziness. Was he hallucinating? The building was so solid, so real. He could see the way the rain slicked the grotesque faces of the stone gargoyles, the faint verdigris on the heavy bronze doors. It was more real than the familiar sidewalk beneath his feet.

He shut his eyes tightly, a desperate prayer forming in his mind. Please be normal, please be normal. He counted to three and opened them again.

The building was still there.

But his friends were not.

One second, they were standing right in front of him, their faces etched with concern. The next, the space they had occupied was empty. There was no sound, no flash of light, no cry. They were simply… gone. The rain continued to fall on the vacant pavement where they had stood.

“Max? Chloe?”

His voice was a raw whisper. He spun around, scanning the empty street. It was deserted. No cars. No pedestrians. Just the relentless rain and the oppressive silence. Panic, sharp and electrifying, seized him. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.

“MAX! CHLOE!” he screamed, his voice swallowed by the sheer wrongness of the moment.

His rational mind screamed at him to run. To get away from the impossible building and the empty street and never look back. But a more primal, terrifying thought took hold: they hadn't just vanished. They had gone inside.

It made no sense, but it was the only thought his terror-stricken brain could latch onto. They had walked forward, and the building had taken them.

He had to follow. He had to get them back.

With a resolve born of sheer desperation, Alex turned and faced the ancient structure. Each step felt like wading through molasses. The air grew thick and heavy, smelling of ozone and damp, disturbed earth. As he approached the massive bronze doors, one of them swung inward without a sound, a silent, unnerving invitation into the darkness beyond.

He hesitated for only a second before plunging inside.

The door swung shut behind him, cutting off the sound of the rain and plunging him into a tomblike silence. The lobby was vast and circular, coated in a layer of fine, grey dust that seemed to absorb all sound. The air was unnaturally still and cold. It wasn't the welcoming lobby of an apartment building; it felt like a mausoleum.

Across the cavernous room, a single point of light drew his eye. It was a soft, milky glow emanating from a call button next to a set of ornate elevator doors, wrought from the same tarnished bronze as the entrance. It pulsed gently, like a slow, sleeping heart.

It was a trap. Every instinct screamed it. But it was also the only path. There were no stairs, no other doors. Just the waiting elevator.

His footsteps echoed unnervingly on the marble floor as he crossed the room. He reached out a trembling hand and pressed the button. Instead of a chime, a low hum vibrated through the floor, and the bronze doors slid open with a whisper of metal on metal.

The interior of the elevator was surprisingly opulent, walled with polished bronze that reflected his terrified face like a distorted mirror. There were no buttons inside. No numbers for floors, no emergency stop. Just a smooth, blank panel.

He stepped inside, and the doors slid silently shut, sealing him in. For a moment, nothing happened. He stared at his own reflection, his chest tight with fear.

Then, the reflection flickered.

It wasn't just his own face staring back at him anymore. Two figures wavered into existence beside his reflection. Max and Chloe.

A choked sob of relief escaped Alex’s lips. He spun around, expecting to find them standing right there with him.

The elevator was empty.

He whipped his head back to the bronze doors. Their reflections were still there, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his. Max’s reflection wore his stupid, hooded sweatshirt. Chloe’s had a single raindrop clinging to her eyelash. But they weren't looking at him. They were looking forward, their faces utterly devoid of expression.

And their eyes.

Oh god, their eyes.

Where his friends’ warm, familiar eyes should have been, there were only two pairs of solid, black orbs. They were like polished stones, deep and soulless voids that drank the light. There were no whites, no irises, no pupils. Just perfect, horrifying blackness.

As he watched, paralyzed by a dread so profound it felt like a physical blow, the black-eyed reflection of Chloe slowly raised a hand. Her fingers were long and pale in the distorted bronze. She reached out, as if to place her hand on his shoulder.

The elevator gave a sudden, violent lurch, not up or down, but sideways, throwing Alex hard against the opposite wall. The polished bronze panels flickered once, twice, and then plunged into absolute, suffocating darkness. The last thing he saw, burned into the back of his eyelids, was the afterimage of those empty, black, staring eyes.