Avery didn't speak, she couldn't. Something inside of her was screaming, warning her that something was wrong—that none of this was right. And yet at the same time, she was drawn in irresistibly. She had to know more.
"What was on the other side?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Reed took a slow step toward her, his eyes narrowing. "You know what it was," he said, his voice a whisper. "It's you, Avery. It's always been you. You've been running from the truth."
Avery took a deep breath, her fists tight. She did not know what to believe anymore—if any of this was sane, if she could trust him. But as she stood there, the weight of his words pressed on her chest like a hand around her heart.
"I don't want to run anymore," she whispered, her eyes darting towards the house behind them. "But what next?"
Reed's lips curled into a shadow of smile, a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. He turned, his gaze fixing on the empty street ahead. The silence stretched between them, thick and unbearable.
"We're not done yet," he said. "The game continues."
Avery's eyes followed his gaze, her heart racing in her chest. In the distance, the streetlights quivered, their light casting long shadows reaching out to them. It was as though something was approaching—something dark, unstoppable.
And then—like a shock of electricity—the world around them shifted once more.
The ground beneath them trembled, the shadows stretching and growing darker. The street began to warp and twist, the houses bending and curling, as if reality itself was ripping at the seams.
And then, in the center of the street, something appeared. A large, baroque frame. A mirror.
This mirror was different, though. It pulsed with an otherworldly, eerie light, its surface humming with energy. And when Avery looked into its depths, she didn't see just her own reflection, but something more.
A figure.
Another face, one she didn't recognize.
The figure's face was distorted, their features scrunched up in agony, their hands reaching out from the mirror, as though trying to escape. It was a woman, or possibly what had perhaps once been a woman, her face distorted in terror.
Then the voice—faint, distant at first, but growing louder.
"The next to die will not escape the truth."
The words echoed, reverberating through the air, causing Avery's spine to shiver.
Avery stepped closer, her heart in her throat. She couldn't tear her gaze away from the mirror. The woman's face was now screaming silently, her face twisting, transforming, as if pleading for help.
"Who is she?" Avery whispered, her voice barely audible.
Reed's gaze didn't leave the mirror. His face was expressionless, his body tight with something dark and recognizable.
"I don't know," he said.
The world around them stilled, the air thick with the unsaid. And then the mirror shattered, the sound ear-splitting in the silence.
Avery stepped back as glass shards clattered to the floor, their edges glinting like the final pieces of a puzzle just being slotted into position.
The words hovered in the air like a bitter taste:
"The next to die will not escape the truth."
***
The mirror had vanished. The figure had vanished. Yet the weight of the riddle remained, a heavy burden on Avery's shoulders. She turned to Reed with a voice barely above a whisper.
"Who. who's next?" she whispered, her breath catching in her throat.
Reed's eyes locked into hers, the shadows within his own eyes deeper than she'd ever seen.
"The riddle has begun, again," he said, his tone definite and cold. "And we will get to know soon."
***
Avery couldn't say how long they stood there. The words of the mirror still echoed in her mind like a continuous hum, vibrating through her mind, shutting out the world around her. The next to die would not be able to evade the truth. What was that meant to mean?
She glanced over at Reed, who stood beside her, his eyes still fixed on the broken pieces of glass that were scattered on the cobblestones. He was silent, his jaw clenched, his body rigid. There was something about the way he stood now—something different, as though something within him had shifted in that moment when the mirror shattered.
"I didn't ask for this," Avery spoke, her voice trembling with a mix of fear and frustration. She wasn't sure if she was speaking to him, or the universe at large. "I didn't ask to be a part of this game."
Reed turned slowly, his eyes meeting hers, dark and unfathomable. "No one asks for the truth, Avery. But that doesn't stop it from coming."
Avery's breath caught in her throat as the weight of his words fell on her. She had witnessed already how very far the truth could reach, how terribly it could hurt, but the idea of it coming—as if it walked of its own volition, of its own path—made her more afraid than anything.
The wind picked up, carrying on it the slightest scent of something decaying. Avery shivered, a chill creeping through her flesh.
The highway ahead of them was empty, dead, but it didn't feel right. There was something unsettling about the quiet. The silence was too heavy, like the calm before a storm.
"Where do we go from here?" Avery's voice was barely a whisper.
Reed didn't answer immediately. His gaze wandered the street, drinking in the empty buildings, the dark windows, and the strange sensation in the air. He seemed to be waiting for something, something that hadn't yet come.
The path didn't look like how it was when they first got to the house.
"You heard the riddle," he said finally, his voice low. "It told us all we need to know."
Avery's forehead creased in a frown. "It said the next to die wouldn't be able to escape the truth. But it didn't say who."
Reed's mouth tightened. "It's always been about you, Avery. Whether you wish to believe it or not, you're at the middle of this."
She felt the words hit her like a blow to the chest, a sharp pain radiating outward. She'd known, on some level, that her past, her memories—everything—was entwined with this, but hearing Reed say it so plainly made it all too real.
"I'm not the one who's going to die," she said firmly, trying to convince herself more than him.
Reed didn't say a word, but his face was a mask of silent resignation. There was no necessity for speech. He knew the truth she was concealing.
***
The silence continued between them, until the quiet was broken by the sound of approaching footsteps. Avery tensed, her hand reaching involuntarily into the pocket where some time ago she had placed a knife. But before she could make a move, a figure emerged from the shadows.
It was a woman. Tall, with dark hair that cascaded in long waves down her back. Her eyes were wide, unblinking, and she walked with a slow, deliberate pace, her footsteps echoing off the pavement. Her clothes were unremarkable—a dark coat and boots—but there was something in her presence that was unsettling, like she didn't belong here.
"Who are you?" Avery demanded, her voice sharp.
The woman stopped several feet away, her gaze flicking between Avery and Reed. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, her lips curled into a small, enigmatic smile.
"I'm here to help," she said softly.
Avery's brow furrowed in disbelief. "Help?" She glanced at Reed, whose face had hardened into a mask of caution. "How?"
The woman took a step forward, her eyes never leaving Avery. "The riddle. It's begun already. The first part has fallen, but there's more to it. You have to see it."
"See what?" Avery asked, her patience running thin. "Who are you? What are you referring to?"
The woman's gaze flicked to the shattered mirror, then back to Avery. "The answer lies in the truth you refuse to see. The truth that's been sitting there all along, waiting. It's time you opened your eyes."
Avery felt a strange tug in her chest, a pull she couldn't explain. It was more than curiosity—it was as if something inside her that had been dormant was waking.
"Why should we trust you?" Reed finally spoke up, his voice low with a hint of suspicion.
The woman faced him, her expression unchanging. "Because you don't have a choice. None of us do."
***
Avery's eyes narrowed. "What's your angle? What do you want from us?"
She was tired of the evasive answers, tired of indulging the riddles along. She wanted—no, needed—to know the truth. To understand the rules of this strange reality she'd awakened into.
The woman's smile vanished, her face softening in a look of regret, almost pity. "I don't have time to explain it all to you now. The clock is ticking, Avery. You're running out of time."
"Time for what?" Avery pressed. "What if we don't solve it? What about the next victim?"
The woman's gaze flicked to Reed, then back to Avery. "You will not have long to wait. You are not the only ones being watched. Your actions are all being watched, counted. measured."
"Who is the next to die?" Avery whispered, the question escaping her before she could stop it.
The woman's smile returned, but it was colder this time. "You'll know when it happens."
A shiver ran down Avery's spine as the woman turned, receding into the darkness from which she had appeared. Her footsteps faded away, leaving them with only the foreboding silence.
Both Avery and Reed were quiet for a moment. The silence between them was heavy, a thick denseness that weighed upon them. Avery's heart raced as her mind tried to sort it all out.
Yet the truth—whatever it had been—remained elusive, a mystery still unfolding.
"We need to go," Reed said finally, his voice low and urgent.
Avery nodded, feeling the pull of something bigger than herself, something dark and relentless that was pushing her forward, ready or not.