The Livestream That Predicted Death

The Donor

Episode 4: The Donor

Ethan stared at Sarah's message.

Platform 6.

The words seemed to glow on the screen.

He looked at the livestream.

Oracle_13's donation was still visible to everyone watching.

$1,000

11:17 PM. Central Station. Platform 6.

This time, there will be no survivor.

Ethan's fingers hovered over the keyboard.

He typed slowly.

Ethan: How did you know?

Sarah's reply came almost immediately.

Sarah: Know what?

Ethan looked at the message.

His pulse quickened.

He typed:

Ethan: Platform 6.

The three dots appeared.

Then disappeared.

Then appeared again.

Sarah: The anonymous tip only mentioned Central Station.

Ethan swallowed.

Ethan: Then why did you say Platform 6?

There was a long pause.

Sarah: I didn't.

Ethan's stomach tightened.

He looked back at the livestream.

Thousands of people were watching.

The chat was moving so quickly he could barely read it.

WHO IS SARAH?

THE POLICE GOT THE SAME WARNING?

THIS CAN'T BE REAL

CALL THE POLICE NOW

Ethan suddenly realized something.

He hadn't told Sarah about Platform 6.

She had somehow said it anyway.

But she insisted she hadn't.

Someone else had inserted those words into their conversation.

Or someone had been listening.

Ethan grabbed his phone.

"Sarah, I'm coming to the station."

Her response was immediate.

"No."

"I need to know what's happening."

"Stay where you are."

"But you just said—"

"Ethan, listen to me."

Her voice became sharper.

"We don't know if Oracle is trying to prevent a crime or cause one."

Ethan stopped.

Sarah continued.

"And if someone is using your livestream to coordinate something, walking into that station could make you part of it."

Ethan looked at the camera.

Thousands of strangers were watching him.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe this was exactly what someone wanted.

Still, one thought wouldn't leave him alone.

What if someone really was going to die?

"I can't just sit here," he said.

Sarah sighed.

"Then don't go inside."

"What?"

"Stay outside the station."

"Why?"

"Because we're already sending officers."

Ethan's eyes narrowed.

"You already sent them?"

"Yes."

"Before you knew about the donation?"

Another pause.

"Yes."

Ethan stared at the phone.

That meant the police were already moving toward Central Station because of the anonymous tip.

Oracle hadn't alerted the police.

Someone else had.

The question was who.

At 10:17 PM, Ethan left his apartment.

He kept the livestream running.

The camera showed his empty chair while his phone streamed audio from his car.

He wasn't sure why he hadn't ended the broadcast.

Maybe because thousands of people were watching.

Maybe because Oracle expected him to.

Or maybe because, for the first time, Ethan understood that his livestream had become more than a channel.

It was a warning system.

And he was standing in the middle of it.

As he drove, comments continued appearing.

ShadowFox: I'm recording everything.

LunaSky: Don't go inside.

PixelGhost: Police are surrounding Central Station.

Ethan's eyes widened.

He hadn't told the viewers that.

Then another comment appeared.

UnknownUser483: They're already there.

Ethan frowned.

He glanced at the username.

It disappeared.

The comment vanished.

He looked back at the road.

A cold feeling settled in his chest.

Someone was controlling the chat.

At 10:34 PM, Ethan reached Central Station.

Police vehicles were already parked along the surrounding streets.

Officers stood near the entrances.

Passengers continued moving through the station, unaware of what was happening.

Ethan parked several hundred meters away.

He stepped out.

Sarah called him immediately.

"Where are you?"

"Outside."

"How far?"

"Across the street."

"Good. Stay there."

Ethan looked toward the station.

"What's happening?"

"We're checking the platforms."

"Did you find anything?"

"Not yet."

Ethan lowered his voice.

"Sarah, who sent the tip?"

"We don't know."

"Can you trace it?"

"We're working on it."

"Was it sent from inside the city?"

"Possibly."

"What does that mean?"

Sarah didn't answer.

"Ethan, I'm busy."

The call ended.

He stared at the station.

The clock above the entrance showed:

10:41 PM.

Thirty-six minutes.

He looked at the livestream.

47,891 viewers.

Almost fifty thousand people were watching him wait.

Then a donation notification appeared.

Ethan's heart stopped.

DONATION RECEIVED: $13

Oracle_13

The message contained only one sentence.

You came anyway.

Ethan's hands went cold.

He immediately typed.

Ethan: Where are you?

No answer.

He typed again.

Ethan: How do you know I'm here?

Nothing.

Then another donation arrived.

$117

Oracle_13

Because I'm watching.

Ethan looked around.

Cars.

Streetlights.

Pedestrians.

Police officers.

Nothing.

He turned slowly.

Across the street, a man stood beside a newspaper stand.

Dark jacket.

Baseball cap.

Phone in his hand.

He was looking directly at Ethan.

Ethan's heart jumped.

The man lowered his phone.

Then walked away.

"Ethan?"

Sarah's voice came through the phone.

"What?"

"Are you there?"

"Yes."

"Don't move."

Ethan watched the man disappear around the corner.

"Someone is watching me."

Sarah went silent.

"Describe him."

Ethan did.

Sarah immediately sent two officers toward the corner.

But when they arrived, the man was gone.

At 11:03 PM, police began quietly restricting access to Platform 6.

Ethan watched from outside the station entrance.

His livestream had become chaotic.

People were posting theories.

Some believed Oracle_13 was a hacker.

Others believed Ethan was staging everything.

A few claimed they had identified the donor.

None of them had.

Then Ethan noticed something strange.

A new account had joined the chat.

Oracle_13

Not a donation.

Not a message attached to money.

Just the username.

Ethan stared.

The account typed:

Don't let them close Platform 6.

Ethan's stomach tightened.

He immediately contacted Sarah.

"Someone just told me not to close Platform 6."

"What?"

"Oracle."

Sarah paused.

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me exactly what they said."

Ethan read the message.

Sarah was silent.

Then she said:

"That's impossible."

"Why?"

"Because Platform 6 is already closed."

Ethan frowned.

"What?"

"We closed it twenty minutes ago."

Ethan stared at the livestream.

The message from Oracle remained on the screen.

Don't let them close Platform 6.

He suddenly understood.

Oracle wasn't telling him what was happening now.

Oracle was responding to something that had already happened.

As if they were watching the situation from somewhere else.

Or—

As if they already knew what the police were going to do.

"Ethan," Sarah said.

"What?"

"Something's wrong."

At 11:11 PM, Sarah called again.

Her voice was tense.

"We found something."

"What?"

"A backpack."

"Where?"

"Platform 6."

Ethan's chest tightened.

"Is it suspicious?"

"We don't know yet."

"What's inside?"

"We haven't opened it."

Ethan looked at the clock.

11:12 PM.

Five minutes.

"Sarah, get everyone out."

"We are."

"Now."

"We're evacuating the station."

Ethan watched as passengers began leaving the building.

Police officers moved through the entrances.

Emergency vehicles arrived.

The station slowly emptied.

But Platform 6 remained silent.

Waiting.

At 11:15 PM, Sarah spoke again.

"We're clear."

Ethan exhaled.

"Then what about the backpack?"

"Bomb squad is going in."

Ethan looked at Oracle's donation.

The prediction had said:

11:17 PM. Central Station. Platform 6.

Two minutes.

He waited.

Nothing happened.

One minute.

Still nothing.

The clock changed.

11:17 PM.

Nothing.

No explosion.

No gunshot.

No attack.

Nothing.

Ethan stared at the station.

The prediction had failed.

For the first time since this began, Oracle_13 had been wrong.

Then his phone buzzed.

A new donation.

$1

Oracle_13

Ethan opened it.

The message said:

Thank you.

Ethan stared.

His heart began pounding.

He typed:

Ethan: For what?

The response came.

For believing me.

Ethan looked toward the station.

Then his phone buzzed again.

Oracle_13: The backpack was never the threat.

Ethan's face went pale.

He immediately called Sarah.

"Sarah."

"What?"

"The backpack isn't the threat."

There was silence.

"What are you talking about?"

"I don't know. Oracle says—"

A sudden shout came through Sarah's phone.

Then another voice.

"Detective!"

Sarah turned away from Ethan.

"What?"

"We found something."

"What?"

"There's a second entrance beneath Platform 6."

Sarah froze.

Ethan heard everything.

"That wasn't on the station plans."

"What do you mean it wasn't?"

"The tunnel is sealed."

Sarah's voice became quieter.

"Then how did someone get inside?"

No one answered.

Ethan stared at his phone.

A final message from Oracle appeared.

Now you understand.

Then:

I'm not predicting the crimes.

Ethan stopped breathing.

Another message appeared.

I'm predicting what they are going to do.

And finally:

Because I know them.

The donation notification disappeared.

The account went offline.

Ethan stared at the empty screen.

For the first time, he wondered whether Oracle_13 had ever been telling the whole truth.

Maybe the donor wasn't some supernatural predictor.

Maybe they were much closer to the crimes than Ethan had imagined.

Maybe Oracle knew what would happen because Oracle was connected to the people causing it.

And if that was true—

Then the question wasn't how could Oracle predict the future?

It was:

How did Oracle know what the criminals were planning?

Inside Central Station, Sarah stood at the entrance to the hidden tunnel.

The passage was narrow and covered in dust.

Someone had recently forced open the sealed gate.

Fresh footprints crossed the floor.

Sarah crouched beside them.

She examined the prints.

Then noticed something else.

A small black object lay on the ground.

A USB drive.

She picked it up.

There was a label attached to it.

Two characters were written in permanent marker.

E.C.

Sarah stared at the initials.

Ethan Cole.

Her phone rang.

She answered.

"Ethan."

"Yes?"

"I need you to go home."

"Why?"

"I found something."

"What?"

Sarah looked down at the USB drive.

"I can't explain over the phone."

"Then tell me."

Sarah hesitated.

"There was a USB drive in the tunnel."

Ethan waited.

"It has your initials on it."

Silence.

Neither of them spoke.

Then Ethan quietly asked:

"Sarah..."

"What?"

"I've never been inside Central Station before."

Sarah looked down the dark tunnel.

"I know."

A sound echoed from somewhere in the darkness.

Footsteps.

Sarah immediately drew her weapon.

"Who's there?"

No answer.

Another footstep.

Closer.

Then her phone suddenly lost signal.

The call disconnected.

Sarah stood alone at the entrance to the tunnel.

Her flashlight trembled slightly in her hand.

She took one step forward.

Then another.

And somewhere deep beneath Central Station, a door slowly slammed shut.

End of Episode 4

Cliffhanger: A hidden tunnel beneath Platform 6 contains a USB drive marked with Ethan's initials. If Ethan has never been there, who put it there—and what is stored inside it?