01:59.

The countdown was entering its final two minutes.

The air in the cellar felt heavier, thick with the scent of old earth and impending ruin.

My phone, tucked into my jacket pocket, suddenly began to vibrate.

The screen lit up through the fabric, casting a pale blue glow against my chest.

I pulled it out, my fingers trembling slightly as I looked at the display.

It was an unknown number, the caller ID blocked.

I slid my thumb across the screen and pressed the phone to my ear.

“Adrian,” a high, child-like voice whispered through the static.

“Lila?” I whispered.

The static on the line hissed, a dry and empty sound.

“Adrian, it’s cold,” the voice said.

It was her.

I knew the soft, hesitant cadence of her voice immediately.

“Lila, where are you?” I asked, my chest tightening.

“I’m in the dark room with the box,” she said.

The line clicked.

The connection died, replaced by the flat drone of a disconnected call.

I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the red button.

“Who was it?” Nora asked, her eyes wide as she stepped closer to me.