Tendrils of light, mapped to the frequency of the synth lead, wrapped around his arms. They felt cold, like liquid nitrogen and static electricity.

In the final seconds of the track, the violet light from the monitor expanded, swallowing the desk, the chair, and Elias himself.

When he ran it, the screen didn’t flicker with the usual installation wizard. Instead, his monitor bled into a deep, pulsing violet. The cooling fans in his PC began to whine, climbing to a high-pitched scream that sounded less like hardware and more like a human throat.

He loaded his latest track—a dark, atmospheric techno piece. As the kick drum hit, the physical walls of his apartment began to vibrate. Not the shaking of a loud speaker, but a rhythmic thinning. He could see through the drywall into the shimmering void of the digital realm. The "visuals" weren't appearing on the monitor anymore; they were manifesting in the air.