Salem woke to silence.
Not the peaceful kind. The wrong kind—the silence that hums, alive and watching.
His eyes opened to white. Blinding white. No walls, no ceiling, no floor—just endless whiteness stretching in every direction like the inside of a blank page. His body felt weightless, unanchored.
For a fleeting second, he thought he was dead.
Then the text appeared.
[DRAFT 26: INITIALIZING…]
The letters hung in the air, black and sharp against the white void. Salem blinked. Rubbed his eyes. Still there. Floating like smug little gods.
> “…Okay. No. Nope. Not doing this.”
He turned—except there was nothing to turn toward. Just more white. He picked a direction anyway and started walking, boots echoing on nothing.
The text followed.
[PROCESSING CHARACTER DATA…]
[WARNING: PRO
