The air in the small, cramped apartment felt unusually heavy, a thick, almost viscous silence that pressed down on [Protagonist's Name]. The rhythmic hum of the old refrigerator usually provided a comforting background noise, but tonight, even it seemed to hold its breath. Outside, the city's usual cacophony was muted, as if the sounds themselves were being swallowed by an unseen force.

[Protagonist's Name] sat hunched over a laptop, the blue light reflecting off their glasses, a half-eaten bowl of cold noodles forgotten beside them. They were trying to focus on a complex report, but an insistent, prickling sensation at the back of their neck refused to be ignored. It was a feeling they'd become accustomed to recently, a subtle wrongness, like a note played just slightly off-key in an otherwise perfect symphony.

Then, the lights flickered. Not a typical power surge, but a hesitant, almost sentient flutter. The overhead fan creaked, then spun faster, casting disorienting shadows that danced across the walls. A chill, uncharacteristic for the stuffy apartment, snaked its way up their spine. [Protagonist's Name]'s gaze darted to the window, where the city lights seemed to pulse faintly, mirroring the erratic behavior of their own apartment's electricity.

They stood, pushing back their chair with a scrape that echoed too loudly in the sudden, absolute silence. The fan stopped spinning, the hum of the refrigerator died, and even the distant city sounds vanished. The air grew colder, and a faint, almost imperceptible hum began to vibrate through the floorboards, a low thrum that seemed to originate from everywhere and nowhere at once. It was a sound that didn't belong, a sound that spoke of something ancient and vast, awakening.