Chapter 2: Livestream Begins and Initial Anomalies
2798words
"Testing, testing." Alex spoke into the main microphone, her voice returning through the monitoring headphones with crystal clarity and an oddly isolated quality. Her familiar living room had been transformed into a professional broadcast studio, rendering the space simultaneously impressive and alienating.
Jason hunched behind a folding table, surrounded by three laptops and a complex control panel. "All systems online," he reported, eyes fixed on the screens. "We're streaming simultaneously to Twitch, YouTube Live, and Instagram. The teaser's gotten solid traction over the last two days."
"How many people are in the waiting room?" Alex asked, trying to mask the tremor in her voice.
"About twelve hundred so far, but climbing steadily." Jason paused. "Some of the comments are… weird."
Alex leaned over to examine one of the laptop screens. The chat window scrolled with messages, most displaying typical Halloween excitement:
**@GhostHunter92**: "Ready to get scared! 🎃"
**@SkepticalSarah**: "Hope to see some actual evidence tonight"
**@NightOwl_Fan**: "Alex you look nervous, relax! You got this!"
But interspersed among these were more unsettling messages:
**@Anonymous_Watcher**: "Does she remember the songs in the forest?"
**@VoidSpeaker**: "◊◊◊ The door is opening ◊◊◊"
**@TruthKeeper1997**: "The child of New Dawn has finally returned home"
"Who are these anonymous users?" Alex asked, pointing at the disturbing messages.
Jason frowned, typing rapidly. "I've tried tracing their IPs, but they're behind sophisticated VPNs. And there's something else weird—the account creation timestamps."
"What about them?"
"They were all created within the past 72 hours—right after you announced the livestream." Jason's voice betrayed his confusion. "It's like someone created these accounts specifically for tonight's show."
A chill crept up Alex's spine. The mysterious texts, the vanishing app icon, and now these accounts—none of this could be coincidental.
The doorbell rang, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. The first guest had arrived.
* * *
Drake Robbins was a trim, athletic man in his early forties, sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and a tailored black blazer. His penetrating gaze carried the sharp skepticism one would expect from a professional debunker.
"Ms. Carter," he said, extending his hand with a firm grip, "thanks for having me. I must say, your technical setup is impressively professional."
"Please, call me Alex. I'm grateful you agreed to join us," she replied. "I know you typically avoid more… entertainment-oriented programs."
Drake smiled briefly, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I make exceptions for any platform that helps expose supernatural frauds. And Halloween is prime time for charlatans to prey on the credulous."
The second guest's arrival shifted the room's energy dramatically. Dr. Mia Sanchez was a striking woman in her mid-forties, her raven hair pulled back in a severe bun. Her navy blue suit exuded authority and academic gravitas. Yet as she entered, Alex felt an inexplicable unease, as if the woman brought some invisible shadow into the space.
"Alex," Mia's voice was melodious and strangely magnetic, "wonderful to meet you. I've been following your work—particularly your episode on the 'New Dawn' organization."
At the mention of that name, Alex's pulse quickened. "You're familiar with that group?"
"More than most," Mia replied, her gaze lingering uncomfortably on Alex's face. "My research focuses specifically on the psychological trauma such organizations inflict. The New Dawn case was particularly… complex."
Kayla Murphy was the last to arrive. When Alex opened the door, she found herself facing a girl who carried herself with a maturity far beyond seventeen. Kayla's skin was alabaster pale, her hair a rich chestnut brown, but it was her eyes that captivated—deep emerald pools containing both ancient wisdom and profound sorrow.
"Kayla?" Alex asked gently.
"Yes." The girl's voice was soft yet remarkably steady. "Thank you for having me. I understand this isn't easy."
With all guests seated, Alex surveyed the arrangement. Drake sat rigidly to the left, arms crossed defensively. Dr. Sanchez occupied the center, legs elegantly crossed, leather notebook poised on her lap. Kayla perched on the right, hands folded quietly on her knees, emanating both vulnerability and an unsettling mystique.
Jason raised three fingers, then two, then one—and they were live.
* * *
"Good evening, night owls." Alex addressed the main camera, forcing warmth into her voice. "I'm Alex Carter, and welcome to 'Midnight Truth's' Halloween special. Tonight, we'll explore the shadows where conventional wisdom fails us—phenomena science struggles to explain and stories that might forever alter how we understand reality."
The chat immediately exploded with activity:
**@ScreamQueen88**: "Finally starting! Been refreshing all day!"
**@DataSkeptic**: "Let's see some actual evidence tonight, not just anecdotes"
**@MidnightCrawler**: "Alex looks tense—something good coming?"
But amid these typical comments, those anonymous messages continued to appear:
**@VoidSpeaker**: "The ritual has begun"
**@EternalDawn**: "Does she still remember the feeling at the center of the circle?"
"Before introducing tonight's guests," Alex continued, "let's consider Halloween's true essence. This holiday traces back to the ancient Celtic festival of Samhain, when the veil between worlds was believed to grow thin. Perhaps tonight we'll discover these ancient beliefs weren't merely primitive superstitions, but intuitive understandings of something real."
She turned to her first guest. "Let me introduce Drake Robbins, former Vegas illusionist turned renowned skeptic. Drake, why do you think supernatural beliefs persist in our scientific age?"
Drake smiled confidently toward the camera. "Thanks for having me, Alex. People's supernatural fascination stems from our psychological need for meaning—we desperately want the universe to be more mysterious and significant than it appears. But in my twenty years investigating paranormal claims, I've never encountered anything that couldn't be explained through science and critical thinking."
The audience reaction split instantly:
**@BelieversUnited**: "Typical closed-minded skeptic! You'll eat those words tonight!"
**@ScienceRules**: "Finally someone with actual brain cells!"
**@GhostWatcher: "Drake clearly hasn't investigated the right locations"
Drake produced a deck of cards from his pocket. "Let me demonstrate how easily our perception can be manipulated." With fluid movements, he performed an impressive trick where a selected card seemed to teleport between impossible locations. "Seems magical, right? But it's merely technique, misdirection, and psychology. So-called 'supernatural' phenomena typically have equally mundane explanations."
"Fascinating perspective," Alex nodded, "though perhaps tonight might challenge those certainties. Now let me introduce Dr. Mia Sanchez, psychology professor at the University of Washington, specializing in trauma therapy and… unconventional religious movements."
Mia inclined her head gracefully. "Thank you, Alex. I'd like to offer a nuanced counterpoint to Mr. Robbins' perspective. While many supernatural claims do have rational explanations, we must acknowledge that certain religious and quasi-religious groups can indeed produce… extraordinary psychological phenomena."
"Could you elaborate?" Alex asked, feeling tension building in her chest.
"Certainly. In my work with cult survivors, I've documented how these groups employ sophisticated manipulation techniques—combining sensory deprivation, psychoactive substances, and collective suggestion to manufacture seemingly supernatural experiences." Mia paused, her gaze shifting between the camera and Alex. "But more intriguingly, some groups appear to have developed techniques that push beyond our current psychological understanding."
Drake's brow furrowed. "Dr. Sanchez, are you actually suggesting genuine supernatural phenomena?"
"I'm suggesting that modern science may not yet have developed frameworks to explain all phenomena," Mia replied smoothly, "particularly regarding collective consciousness, quantum entanglement effects, and certain ancient knowledge systems that operate outside Western paradigms."
The chat erupted with heated debate:
**@QuantumMystic**: "Finally someone acknowledging science's limitations!"
**@SkepticalMind**: "Classic pseudoscientific word salad"
**@TruthSeeker2024**: "Dr. Sanchez knows the TRUTH! Listen carefully!"
Meanwhile, those anonymous messages grew increasingly frequent and disturbing:
**@VoidSpeaker**: "Does she remember the songs in the circle?"
**@EternalDawn**: "Blood remembers its origin"
**@NightChild**: "Mother's daughter is finally ready"
Alex noticed these messages and felt a wave of vertigo wash over her. The words seemed to trigger something buried deep in her psyche—vague yet terrifying. Fighting to maintain composure, she turned to her final guest.
"Now, I'd like to introduce our final guest, whose courage in being here tonight cannot be overstated. Kayla Murphy recently escaped from a modern cult called the 'Eternal Gate.' Kayla, would you share your experience with us?"
Kayla raised her head, her emerald eyes staring directly into the camera. In that moment, Alex could swear the temperature in the room plummeted several degrees.
"The Eternal Gate isn't just another religious group," Kayla began, her voice carrying an authority that belied her youth. "They believe our reality is merely one layer among countless dimensions, and that through specific rituals and sacrifices, gateways to… other realms can be opened."
Drake scoffed. "Textbook cult indoctrination rhetoric."
Kayla continued as if he hadn't spoken. "The Leaders taught us that certain people are born as 'Keys'—individuals capable of bridging dimensional gaps. These people are typically identified in childhood and subjected to special… preparation."
Alex felt her heart hammering. "What kind of preparation?"
"Rituals. Meditation. Sometimes… other things." Kayla's gaze grew distant. "On full moon nights, they would take us to specific forest clearings. There would be a circle marked with stones and metal symbols. We children would stand at the center while adults surrounded us, chanting words from languages I'd never heard before."
The studio's temperature continued dropping until everyone's breath fogged visibly. Jason checked the thermostat in confusion—it still read a normal 72 degrees.
Online viewers immediately noticed:
**@WatchingClosely**: "Holy shit, is that their breath? The room's freezing!"
**@TechGuy_Mike**: "Must be a camera filter or something, right?"
**@ParanormalExpert**: "Classic cold spot phenomenon! Something's manifesting!"
"Kayla," Dr. Sanchez interjected softly, "could you describe those symbols? What exactly did they look like?"
Kayla closed her eyes, seemingly accessing buried memories. "Spirals. Many spirals. But not ordinary ones—these seemed to distort space itself, making your eyes slide away whenever you tried to focus directly on them. And others resembled… tentacles? Or perhaps branches? It's hard to describe precisely."
Alex felt a wave of intense dizziness overwhelm her. Her peripheral vision blurred as suppressed memory fragments surfaced: a moonlit forest clearing, a stone circle, white-robed figures surrounding her. She heard her mother's voice, soft yet heavy with sorrow: "My little angel, this is necessary…"
"Alex?" Drake's concerned voice yanked her back to reality. "Are you okay? You've gone completely pale."
"I'm… I'm fine." She fought to steady her voice. "Kayla, what was the purpose of these rituals? What were they trying to accomplish?"
Kayla's eyes snapped open, her pupils now unnaturally dilated. "Summoning. They seek to bring ancient entities into our world—beings that existed before time itself, waiting for the right moment to reclaim dominion over Earth."
Suddenly, every light in the studio flickered simultaneously. Electronic equipment emitted sharp bursts of static, then returned to normal.
Jason frantically checked the equipment, confirming all systems were still operational. But he noticed something bizarre: the viewer count was skyrocketing at an impossible rate. From the initial 3,000, it had already surged past 15,000 and was still climbing rapidly.
The chat exploded with activity:
**@ElectricShock**: "What the hell was that with the lights?!"
**@SignalHunter**: "My entire block just experienced a power surge!"
**@QuantumWatcher**: "This viewer growth rate is statistically impossible!"
The anonymous messages grew increasingly disturbing:
**@VoidSpeaker**: "The signal is spreading"
**@DimensionWalker**: "Have they remembered?"
**@AncientWhisper**: "The door is opening, the Key is turning"
**@EternalDawn**: "Daughter of New Dawn, return to the center of the circle"
Alex tried ignoring these messages, but their content sent waves of panic through her body. "Kayla, these entities you mentioned… have you actually seen them?"
Kayla nodded slowly. "Once. The night I escaped. The ritual reached its peak, and the air at the circle's center began to… distort. Like heat waves, but ice-cold. Then I glimpsed it—a vast shadow with countless eyes and writhing appendages, struggling to push through a tear in reality."
Drake shifted uncomfortably but maintained his skeptical stance. "This is textbook mass hallucination. Under extreme stress, particularly with potential drug influence or sleep deprivation, the brain creates shared visual experiences that feel real but aren't."
"But what if we all saw identical details?" Kayla asked with unsettling calmness. "What if twelve different people, including children too young to understand what they were seeing, all described the exact same entity down to specific features?"
Dr. Sanchez leaned forward intently. "Kayla, what happened after you fled? What about the others?"
Kayla's expression darkened. "Federal agents raided the compound the next morning. They found no adults—all had vanished without a trace. Only a few of us children remained, along with… evidence they couldn't explain."
"What kind of evidence?" Alex asked, though part of her dreaded the answer.
"A scorched circle, but not from any fire. More like reality itself had been burned. And those symbols, permanently branded into the earth—impossible to remove or cover. The government cordoned off the entire area as a 'hazardous site' and restricted all access."
The studio temperature plummeted further, everyone's breath forming thick clouds. More disturbing still, the shadows on the walls began moving independently, no longer corresponding to their physical sources.
Viewers worldwide noticed these anomalies:
**@ParanormalWitness**: "The shadows are MOVING! I'm not imagining this!"
**@TechAnalyst**: "No rendering glitch could create that shadow effect!"
**@MidnightObserver**: "Over 50,000 viewers now! How is this possible for a new livestream?"
Jason's face drained of color as he frantically checked his equipment. Everything registered as functioning normally despite the impossibility of what was happening. The viewer count had surpassed 80,000 and was accelerating. Even more baffling, these viewers were connecting from across the globe—Tokyo, London, Cairo, and locations his software couldn't even identify.
"Alex," he whispered urgently, "we need to shut this down. Something is seriously wrong."
But Alex seemed entranced, completely absorbed in Kayla's story as if compelled by some invisible force. Her suppressed memories were crystallizing: the biting cold of the forest night, the paralyzing fear at the circle's center, the desperate pleading in her mother's eyes.
"Kayla," her voice trembled, "this organization… did they have another name? Something besides 'Eternal Gate'?"
Kayla's gaze sharpened, as if piercing through Alex's carefully constructed defenses. "Some members mentioned an older organization. They said 'Eternal Gate' was merely an offshoot of the original group—one called… New Dawn."
At that name, the room seemed to spin around Alex. Memory fragments suddenly coalesced into complete scenes: the white-robed ceremony, her terror at the circle's center, her mother lifting her toward the night sky, the ancient chanting that seemed to bend reality itself…
At that moment, every electronic device in the studio emitted ear-piercing static simultaneously. The cameras began auto-focusing wildly, as if hunting for something invisible to the human eye. A low-frequency vibration permeated the audio feed—a sound that seemed to originate from somewhere impossibly distant and deep.
The chat exploded into chaos:
**@EmergencyAlert**: "My TV just started making that same noise!"
**@GlobalWitness**: "This is happening GLOBALLY! News outlets reporting signal disruptions in major cities worldwide!"
**@QuantumPhysicist**: "This frequency pattern doesn't exist in nature—it's mathematically impossible!"
The anonymous messages now dominated the chat:
**@VoidSpeaker**: "The door is opening"
**@DimensionBridge**: "The Key has been turned"
**@AncientReturn**: "We have returned"
**@EternalDawn**: "The New Dawn never sets"
Drake stood abruptly, panic evident in his usually composed face. "This has to be some kind of coordinated hoax. I need to see if outside—"
But as he approached the window, he froze mid-step. Through the glass, an impossible sight greeted him: every light across Seattle's skyline flickered in perfect synchronization, as if the entire city had become a giant signaling device. More terrifying still, people on the streets below stood motionless, heads tilted upward toward the night sky, as if awaiting instructions.
"Kill the broadcast NOW!" Jason shouted, fingers flying across his keyboard. "Whatever this is, it's using our signal to spread!"
But as he reached for the emergency shutdown, his fingers froze mid-air. An invisible force seemed to seize control of his muscles, leaving him paralyzed at his station, forced to watch as the viewer count surpassed two million and continued its impossible climb.
Dr. Sanchez rose from her seat, her professional demeanor replaced by an expression of eerie satisfaction. "Alex, are the memories returning now?"
"What?" Alex turned to her, confusion and terror battling across her face.
"Your mother Diana never truly abandoned New Dawn. She was merely protecting you until the appointed time." Mia's voice deepened, acquiring an unnatural resonance that seemed to vibrate the air itself. "And now, that time has arrived."
Just then, Kayla spoke, but the voice emanating from her throat belonged to no teenager—it carried the weight of something ancient and immeasurably powerful: "Welcome back to the center of the circle, daughter of New Dawn. We have waited so very long for your return."
