What Remains Of Us (Yang Tersisa dari Kita)

Ava woke up to a thick silence. Not the peaceful kind, but the kind that presses against your skin, that fills the room like fog. The old townhouse no longer creaked. It waited. As if it knew she had made her decision.

She sat up slowly, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Last night's tape—the one labeled "Cassandra. March 17"—still lay beside the dusty player on the floor. She had listened to it three times, trying to decipher the distortion, the voice that wasn't Ben's, and the moment when a whisper said her name.

Outside, the morning fog had curled around Waverly Place like a protective shroud. From the window, the world seemed distant. Unreal.

She had written down the names from the tape: Cassandra, Elias, Dr. Merton, and the phrase that chilled her more than anything: "They were wrong about the Threshold."

She tucked the paper into her pocket. Time to visit Caroline.

The subway felt emptier than usual. Ava held her phone tight, screen dim. She scrolled through texts she never sent, rereading her last message to Ben from months ago: You're scaring me. Please talk to me. No reply. Just the silence.

Caroline's apartment in Boston hadn't changed. Mismatched cushions, a poster of Hitchcock films, the familiar scent of burnt coffee and lavender. Caroline opened the door in a T-shirt and socks, blinking in surprise.

"Wow. Ava?" she said, voice thick with sleep. "It's been a minute."

"I need your old tape player."

Caroline raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?"

Ava nodded. "It's urgent. And I need to ask you about the Winter Project."

That got Caroline's attention.

They sat on the floor, knees touching. Ava explained what she'd found, played the tape again. Caroline's eyes widened at the mention of Cassandra.

"I've heard that name," she said. "During our internship, one of the case files from the Redden Institute mentioned a 'Subject Cassandra.' The report was mostly blacked out. Ben said not to ask."

"Did it say what happened to her?"

Caroline shook her head. "Just one word at the end: Extracted."

The tape hissed again. Then the voice repeated: "Threshold unstable. Cassandra compromised. Protocol override."

That night, Ava couldn't sleep. Her dreams were fragmented memories: Ben laughing beside a bonfire, then crying in a snow-covered street. Cassandra's name scribbled across hundreds of pages.

In the morning, a message was slipped under her door. No name, just a time and place: Library. Midnight. Come alone.

She knew it was reckless. She went anyway.

The old library smelled like mold and secrets. Lights flickered. Ava's footsteps echoed louder than they should have.

In the reading room, someone waited in the dark.

"You came," a voice said.

It was Elias.

Ben's friend. The one who disappeared six months ago.

"I thought you were dead," Ava whispered.

He stepped into the light. Pale. Gaunt. Haunted.

"I am," he said. "In every way that matters."

They sat in silence. Elias trembled.

"They opened the Threshold," he said. "We thought it was a bridge. It wasn't. It was a mirror. And some things… looked back."

Ava clenched her fists. "Cassandra?"

"She wasn't supposed to survive," Elias said. "But she did. And now she's not the only one."

"What does that mean?"

"It means we made a copy of the world. And the copy wants to be real."

A long pause.

"You have to go back to Waverly," Elias said. "The real key is there. Ben knew. That's why they took him."

"Who's 'they'?"

He didn't answer. Instead, he handed her a piece of paper.

A symbol. It shimmered slightly, though the room was dark.

"Burn it," Elias said. "Then follow what you see."

She did.

The symbol burned green, like fire underwater. Smoke coiled into shapes—coordinates. Ava memorized them.

When she looked up, Elias was gone.

The next morning, Ava boarded a train headed north.

Each station blurred by. Sleep eluded her. Her mind replayed the phrase: A copy of the world.

At the coordinates, she found a cabin buried in snow.

Inside: journals. Drawings. Cassette tapes.

One was labeled: "Ava. Final message."

She played it.

Ben's voice, raw and quiet:

"If you're hearing this, they found me. Don't trust what wears a familiar face. The Threshold lies. But so do we. I'm sorry."

The line cut off.

Ava stared into the shadows.

And the shadows blinked back.

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