The corridor opened like a throat swallowing light.
Luke stumbled through first, his hoodie torn and face drawn pale. Behind him, Arthur emerged with slow, deliberate steps—his eyes locked forward, the weight of invisible chains still hanging heavy on his wrists.
They didn't speak at first.
Just stood there, letting the silence settle between them.
Then Luke broke it.
"You look like hell."
Arthur gave a breath of a chuckle. "You should see the other guy."
Their shared smile was faint—wounded—but it was something. A tether. A reminder they were still them, even after everything that happened inside those cursed reflections.
Luke looked down at Arthur's wrists. His expression tightened.
"Those real?"
Arthur nodded once.
"Yeah."
"And you're… okay with that?"
Arthur flexed his fingers. "No. But I think I'm supposed to be."
They continued forward, the corridor widening into a vast, circular chamber made of smooth obsidian. The air was heavy. Not just thick—but expectant.
Like the room was holding its breath.
In the center was a chair.
And in that chair sat a person, head bowed.
Arthur's breath caught.
Luke's voice cracked.
"No way…"
It was Evelyn.
Alive.
Her clothes were torn. Hair matted. Hands bound to the arms of the chair with red cords that pulsed faintly like veins. She wasn't moving, but her chest rose and fell—shallow, rhythmic.
Arthur took a step forward.
"Evelyn?"
Her head jerked upward.
Her eyes opened.
They were black. Not just the irises—everything.
And then she smiled.
But it wasn't Evelyn's smile.
It was something colder. Ancient. Wrong.
"You made it," the voice that left her mouth was layered—hers and another, deeper tone beneath it. "I was starting to think the mirror would break you."
Arthur's heart pounded.
Luke whispered, "What the hell…"
"She's still here," the voice cooed, as if it could read their thoughts. "Somewhere deep inside. But she saw too much. Just like you will."
Arthur's fists clenched. The chains pulsed.
"Let her go."
The figure tilted her head, amused.
"You don't even know what you're asking. But don't worry... soon, you will. The past is catching up to you, Arthur. And the past doesn't forget."
Suddenly, the walls of the chamber lit up.
Every mirror they'd broken was here. Fractured. Bleeding memories like ink in water.
Evelyn screamed—not her voice, but the thing inside her—and the room shook as a sigil appeared on the ground beneath the chair, glowing in violent red arcs.
Arthur ran forward.
Luke shouted behind him.
But as Arthur reached her, Evelyn whispered something.
"Don't let it out."
And then the sigil pulsed.
There was a crack—and Evelyn vanished.
Not exploded. Not teleported.
Just… gone.
And in her place stood something cloaked in shadow, its face still forming, building itself out of shards of everything they feared.
The voice that followed shook the room to its foundation.
"Now… we begin."