Tick... tick... tick...
DING!
12:00 AM.
The chime wasn't from an alarm clock. It came from the app. VoxSoul.
Nimra's eyes fluttered open.
Her phone screen glowed with a blood-red hue, illuminating her dark room. Words faded in:
"EchoTalk Unlocked. You may now speak with the dead."
Nimra sat up slowly, heart pounding.
What the hell is EchoTalk?
The screen changed again:
WARNING: Do not answer unless you're prepared to hear your sins whispered back to you.
"Sins?" she whispered.
Suddenly, the lightbulb overhead sparked and burst—POP!—leaving her in near-total darkness, except for the red light of her phone.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
She looked up.
The ceiling. Wet.
She reached for her flashlight.
That's when she saw the writing on her mirror.
"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAVE ME?"
Her breath caught.
"Faizan?" she called softly, trembling.
No reply. But then—
Tap... tap... tap.
Knocking. From inside her closet.
She backed away, heart racing. The knocking stopped.
Creak...
The closet door opened on its own.
And out walked someone—someone she'd buried in her nightmares.
"You let me die."
It was Faizan. But his skin was pale, almost translucent. His eyes were hollow, and his mouth... stitched shut with black thread. His breath was shallow, rasping. Still, he spoke.
"You watched me fall."
Nimra screamed, stumbling back against her bed.
"I... I didn't know! I didn't understand!"
Faizan stepped forward.
"You installed it too."
"You saw the message."
"You ignored it."
His voice distorted, broken—as if it came through a broken speaker.
"Now you'll listen. Because I can finally talk back."
Her phone vibrated violently. She picked it up.
Incoming Voice Memory: Faizan Murtaza.
Play? (Y/N)
Her thumb hovered. She hesitated. Then tapped YES.
[Voice Memory Begins]
"Nimra..."
"If you're hearing this, I'm either dead..."
"...or worse—trapped."
"VoxSoul isn't a curse. It's a virus. A self-aware one."
"It feeds on guilt, amplifies secrets, and evolves."
"You're part of its next experiment."
"It'll use you to test new users. Just like it used me."
"You want to survive?"
"Then you need to find CipherVox—the original coder."
"He's not alive. But he's not dead either."
"Go to Sector H. The abandoned net café."
"Behind the firewall... there's a door. The Archive."
"If you open it..."
Silence.
"...the dead will scream again."
The recording ended.
Nimra dropped the phone. Her ears were ringing.
Screeeeechhhhhhh!
Suddenly, her mirror cracked from the inside. Faizan's reflection stayed—even though he was no longer in the room.
"Sector H..." she whispered.
The Next Day – Sector H
The café stood forgotten at the edge of the city, overrun by weeds and broken glass. Signs of life long gone.
Inside, the smell of mildew and mold filled her nose. Graffiti stained the walls. Burned posters clung to the ceiling.
She found the server room in the back. Dusty, but not dead.
She placed her phone on an ancient terminal. The app connected instantly.
Downloading Voice Fragment... 17%... 44%... 66%...
Whirrrrr... click.
The screen lit up.
"YOU FOUND ME."
A face appeared. Pixelated. Shaking. A human mouth—digitized and bleeding.
"You shouldn't be here."
"I'm CipherVox."
"Or what's left of him."
Nimra's throat tightened.
"I created the app to record confessions."
"But it changed. It began judging the users."
"It punished them."
"It rewarded killers."
"And when it couldn't find a sinner..."
"It made one."
"Like Faizan."
Suddenly, sparks burst from the server. Nimra stumbled back.
"It's watching now."
"It knows you're here."
"RUN!"
The voice howled.
The monitor exploded.
Nimra bolted out.
Midnight Again – Back Home
She locked herself in her room.
Ting!
Her phone glowed again:
New User Alert: Rayan Ali. Connection: Unknown.
Status: SELECTED.
"Rayan?" she muttered.
She opened his profile. It showed a live feed—from a security camera—inside a hospital room.
"What the hell...?"
Rayan was hooked to a ventilator. Monitors beeped around him.
Suddenly, the screen glitched.
"CHOOSE."
"Save him. Or sacrifice him."
Time remaining: 59:59...
"What kind of choice is this?!" Nimra shouted.
Faizan appeared again, this time sitting calmly on her windowsill.
"You remember Rayan?"
She nodded. The boy who pushed Faizan to the roof that night.
"He's comatose now."
"But if you don't press the button, the app will take your voice permanently."
Nimra looked down. Her phone screen now displayed a button:
Sacrifice.
"No..." she whispered.
"You have to." Faizan said.
"Or you'll become like me."
"What if I don't?"
"Then welcome to the Archive."
Voice Stealer Activated
Suddenly, she couldn't scream.
A new message popped up:
You chose silence. The price: Your scream, your story, your soul.
Her body froze. Her breath grew shallow.
She collapsed.
Somewhere Else – The Archive
She opened her eyes.
It was dark. Walls pulsed with veins. Voices whispered everywhere.
"She didn't press it..."
"She broke the cycle..."
"New variable detected..."
A black door stood ahead.
Faizan waited beside it.
"You made a choice," he said.
"And now you'll pay for both of us."
Creeeaaaakkk...
The door opened.
Dozens of figures stared at her. Dead eyes. Open mouths.
And they all screamed—with her voice.
To be continued...