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One by one, the images filled his screen. They were more than just wallpapers; they were windows.

The cursor hovered over the file labeled

It was a close-up of a heavy oak door, slightly ajar. A single set of footprints led away from the camera, toward the treeline. Elias found himself staring at the resolution—so crisp he could see the individual flakes of frost on the iron hinges. He set it as his background. One by one, the images filled his screen

showed a small cedar shack tucked under the heavy boughs of a spruce tree, its windows glowing with a low, amber light.

That night, the heating in his apartment failed. As the room grew cold, Elias didn't shiver. He stared at the screen. He could almost smell the woodsmoke. He could almost hear the crunch of snow under boots. A single set of footprints led away from

was a sprawling lodge of dark timber, surrounded by a frozen lake that reflected a violet sunset. Image 65 , the final one, was different.

On the rug beneath Elias’s desk, there was a small, melting pile of fresh snow. showed a small cedar shack tucked under the

When he woke up the next morning, the apartment was empty. The computer was still on, but the wallpaper had changed. The footprints on the screen no longer led toward the trees. They led back toward the door, which was now firmly shut.