For advanced chapters and sneak peek and to show some loyalty to me, become a member of my patreon.
Such positive attitude helps me and makes me more motivated to write.
I tried to make a website, but I failed terribly I guess. Still I would try making a website as best as I can. Since I have no money on me, as none of u guys are buying the membership which is cheap. 3$ is pretty cheap if u ask me, I am unable to pay for ppl to make website. And no one is giving away their skills for free.
So yeah.
____
·Chapter Nine: Ghosts in the Threads
Morning came with a quiet tension. Not the kind that screamed — but the kind that hummed underneath everything, like static right before a thunderstorm.
I didn't sleep much. Neither did Clear or Alex.
The message still sat on my phone screen, mocking me in plain, chilling text:"You're not the only one playing with fate."I hadn't told them yet. Not because I didn't trust them — but because I wasn't sure what it meant. If someone else had access to a system, or even partial knowledge of the mechanics of Death's design, it changed everything.
And not necessarily for the better.
The system pinged softly in my vision as I sat on the edge of the couch, lacing up my boots.[Thread Target: Kimberly Corman]
[Risk Level: High – Early Cascade Imminent]
[Next Event Prediction: Vehicular Catastrophe – Multi-thread Loss Potential]
[Recommended Action: Thread Intersection Delay via Presence Disruption]I exhaled slowly. "We don't have much time."
Clear stepped into the room, tying her jacket around her waist. Her face was still soft from sleep, but her eyes held that quiet fire I'd come to rely on.
Alex followed behind her, visibly stiff. He hadn't said much since the near-death encounter last night. Not resentment — more like his world had been forcibly redrawn, and he was still trying to color within the new lines.
He finally broke the silence. "So… White Plains, right?"
I nodded.
"Then let's go stop the next domino."
The drive to White Plains was long — almost six hours with traffic and detours. I let Alex drive while I sat in the back, eyes closed, combing through system threads.[Thread Analysis: Kimberly Corman – Female, Age 19, College Freshman, Major: Psych]
[Deviation Point: Premonition Untriggered. Cascade Node Forming in 48 Hours]
[Thread Status: Fractured, Highly Reactive]A premonition.
That was the key.
Each cycle in the Final Destination timeline started with someone seeing it first — a vivid vision of the catastrophe seconds or minutes before it happened. Alex in Flight 180. Kimberly with the highway pileup. Wendy at the amusement park.
But Kimberly hadn't seen anything yet.
Her thread was fractured, early. That meant the future was vulnerable — plastic.
But why had she entered the cascade so soon?
And who sent the message?
"Hey," Clear's voice drew me out of the interface. She turned back from the passenger seat. "You've been quiet the entire ride."
I hesitated. Then showed her the phone.
Her eyes narrowed as she read the message. "You think there's another system?"
"Possibly," I said. "Or maybe someone who knows how it works. Death isn't subtle anymore. If timelines are overlapping, we might not be the only ones moving through the cracks."
Alex muttered from the front. "Great. It's not just Death — we've got hackers in the afterlife."
We reached White Plains around mid-afternoon. It was a clean, suburban city. Trees lined most of the streets. There was a deceptive peace here, like the kind you'd find in a dream right before it twisted into a nightmare.
The system highlighted Kimberly's thread. She was about two miles east — near a college campus. My HUD pulsed faintly, drawing a golden line down the road like augmented GPS.
We followed it in silence.
Kimberly was outside a small bookstore café, sipping a smoothie and scrolling through her phone. She looked normal. Too normal. Like someone who had no idea Death had written her name in blood.
My gaze sharpened. Threads glimmered faintly around her — some frayed, others taut and trembling. Her time was close. Too close.
Clear leaned in beside me. "She doesn't look like someone who's about to die."
"Neither did Valerie," I replied. "Or Tod. Or the pilot of Flight 180."
I stepped out of the car and approached her slowly.
"Kimberly?"
She looked up, confused. "Uh… do I know you?"
I flashed a gentle smile. "Not yet. But I need you to listen very carefully. Something's going to happen. Soon. And if you don't trust me — even a little — you won't survive it."
She stared, mouth slightly open. "Is this a prank?"
"No prank," I said. "Have you had any weird dreams lately? Flashbacks? Déjà vu you can't explain?"
She blinked. "I… yeah. Actually."
Jackpot.
"Premonitions," I said. "Your mind is trying to warn you."
Kimberly looked around nervously. "You guys are freaking me out."
Clear stepped beside me. "You should be freaked out. But not at us. At Death."
That made her laugh nervously. "What, like the Grim Reaper?"
"More like a force. Like gravity, or fire. You can't kill it. But you can cheat it. For a while."
I pulled out a folded picture from my back pocket — a shot of the wreckage from Flight 180, grainy and torn. "This happened five months ago. Everyone on that flight died — except those who got off early because of a vision."
"I'm one of them," I added. "And now it's happening again."
Kimberly swallowed hard. "Are you saying I'm next?"
"Yes," I said softly. "Unless we act now."
We brought her back to the hotel we'd booked just off the main road. It was small — rustic even — but quiet. Safe. For now.
Kimberly paced the room like a caged cat. "You guys sound insane. And yet… I don't think you're lying."
Clear poured her a glass of water. "That's because he isn't. We've seen it."
Alex sat on the window ledge, arms crossed. "You'll get your vision soon. That's when the chain will really begin."
Kimberly looked at me. "What happens then?"
"We try to break it."
Late that night, while the others slept, I sat at the desk and stared out the window. Rain had started to fall — soft, rhythmic taps against the glass like ticking seconds.
The system opened without prompt.[System Message – Confidential: Anomaly Tracking Detected]
[Subject: Unknown – Code: [█Red Reaper█]]
[Message Logged: "He's not playing fair. He's altering threads manually."]
[Recommend: Upgrade to Observer Tier]
[Cost: 250 Fate Points]
[Confirm? Y/N]He?
My pulse quickened.
So I wasn't imagining it. Someone else was meddling with the weave. Someone strong enough to alter threads — possibly another reincarnator. Or something worse.
I confirmed the upgrade.[Observer Tier: Activated]
[Ability Unlocked: Thread Echo – See faint imprints of a thread's past fates]
[Ability Unlocked: Interference Pulse – Disrupt another user's system if within 50m (Cooldown: 72 hours)]My screen flickered.
For a brief second — just a blink — I saw something impossible.
A thread spiraling inward, wrapping around a figure in shadow. A red glow in his eyes. And something else — a grin, too wide for a human mouth.
Then it was gone.
Clear stirred in bed behind me. "Kai?"
I turned. "Yeah?"
"Something's wrong. I had a dream. About a highway. Cars on fire. Bodies everywhere."
My breath caught.
The premonition had begun.
To Be Continued…