He was about to scrub the timeline back to frame zero when his headphones emitted a sound not from the speaker config: a soft, wet creak. The rocking chair. It had stopped.
The camera drifted through the wrought-iron gate. Dead leaves skittered across the stone path. A rocking chair on the porch swayed, though he hadn't keyframed it. Weird. He checked the node editor. No motion. He shrugged it off as a viewport glitch. 3d haunted
And something with too many keyframes was waving him inside. He was about to scrub the timeline back
Leo froze. His hand moved to the mouse, but the cursor was already drifting on its own. It hovered over the "Build" button. The camera drifted through the wrought-iron gate
It clicked.
Then, a child's voice, but digitized—no, too clean, like a sample rate of a million kHz—whispered directly inside his skull: