Elias Vance only intended to stay one night.
The hotel wasn’t on any map he remembered passing, its lobby steeped in the scent of polish and something older—something metallic that clung to the back of his throat. The clerk barely spoke. The key was already waiting.
Room 417.
At first, it’s just unease. The hum of the lights. The way the walls seem to hold their breath. Then come the inconsistencies—the clock losing minutes, the mirror reflecting something just a second too late, the faint sound of movement from places that should be empty.
By morning, Elias realizes something is wrong.
By nightfall, he understands he isn’t alone.
And by the time he tries to leave, the hotel won’t let him.
Because Room 417 isn’t just a place—it’s a loop. A fracture. A slow unraveling of identity where memory, reflection, and reality begin to blur. Each time Elias wakes, something has changed. Something small. Something impossible.
Something closer.
