The door sealed behind us. No click, no slam. Just silence.
I didn't like that. Doors should make a sound when they close. They should creak or scrape or something. Not just vanish.
Chains stood at the edge of the room with one hand still hovering near the handle that wasn't there anymore. Blue light seeped in through thin slits in the walls. Cold light. It made the air feel sharp, like touching old metal left in the dark too long.
I stepped up behind her, keeping my movements slow. The smell hit next—stone and dust and something older. Not rot exactly, just dry in a way that felt forgotten.
The hallway stretched ahead, too smooth, too clean. No cracks. No seams. Like it had been carved by something that didn't care what walls were supposed to look like.
And the statues.
They lined the walls in pairs, spaced perfectly. Every one of them looked the same. Same shape. Same height. Same blank, featureless faces. Like copies of copies, white and cold and still.
Chains let out a slow breath. I stayed quiet.
Our footsteps echoed as we moved forward. One step. Then two. Then too many.
I frowned. "That wasn't us."
"I know," she said.
The echoes didn't fade like they were supposed to. They layered. Doubled. Like someone else had started walking beside us, just a step behind.
We walked anyway.
The floor didn't make a sound. But everything else did. Every shift in our clothes, every breath, every twitch of a boot on stone—it all bounced down the hallway like it was being listened to.
The statues didn't move. But they didn't feel still.
Some leaned forward. Some hunched. One had a hand raised toward us. Another tilted its head like it was trying to hear our thoughts.
"They're watching," Chains said under her breath.
"They have no eyes," I replied, but I felt it too.
It wasn't fear. Not yet. Just pressure.
We kept walking.
It got narrower the longer we moved. Not by much, just enough to notice. The walls pressed in. The ceiling dropped low. The light stayed the same, but it felt like we were sinking into something.
Then I stopped.
Chains bumped into me. "What?"
"I whispered," I said. "To myself. But I heard it five times. Louder each time."
She looked ahead. "We're not alone."
"No."
That was when I saw it.
A mirror.
It hadn't been there before. I was sure of that.
Tall. Oval. Iron frame. Set into the far wall like it had always been there, even though it hadn't.
Chains stared at it. "That's new."
I didn't answer. I was already walking toward it.
The statues felt closer. Every step I took made them feel more alive. Like they were leaning in, waiting for something. I didn't look behind me. I didn't want to know if they had moved.
Chains said, "Don't look back."
I nodded.
The mirror reflected us. But not how we were.
I looked stronger. Taller somehow. My eye glowed, almost. Not with light, with intent. I looked awake in a way that didn't feel real. Like I'd remembered something important.
Chains' reflection stood straighter too. No limp. No burns. She was smiling.
We weren't smiling.
I stepped forward, slowly.
The mirror versions didn't move.
Chains looked at the angle. "That's wrong," she said. "It's watching us."
I moved closer.
They stepped forward.
Not fast, just enough to close the gap between them and the glass. Their faces didn't change. Still smiling. Still not blinking.
Chains reached out.
I caught her wrist. "Don't."
"I just want to—"
"It's not us," I said, more certain now. "Something's inside."
She hesitated, but didn't touch it.
Then the mirror fogged up.
Something exhaled from the other side. Not words, just breath. Long and slow.
Chains stepped back. Her reflection didn't.
She pulled my knife from her belt. "This ends now."
"Wait," I said, but she was already moving.
The blade didn't strike the glass.
It disappeared into it.
No shatter. No noise. Just gone.
Chains pulled her arm back, but the knife was missing. And the mirror had changed.
It now showed a hallway. Same shape. Same stone.
But empty.
No statues. No us. Just an open door at the end.
Chains stepped closer.
I grabbed her arm. "It's bait."
"No," she said. "I think it's the way out."
I stared at it. "Then why show us something safe?"
She looked behind us.
I did too.
The statues were closer.
So close.
They hadn't moved. Not directly. But they weren't where they had been.
I didn't speak.
I walked toward the mirror.
Chains followed.
The surface shimmered.
One step. Two.
Then the sound came.
It didn't belong in the air. It didn't belong anywhere. Like a breath that had no mouth, no lungs. Every statue inhaled at once.
I stopped.
Chains grabbed my arm and pulled.
The mirror pulsed.
We stepped through.
The hallway vanished behind us.
No sound. No scream.
Then a single crack.
We turned in time to see the statues fall. Like puppets with their strings cut. They turned to dust before they hit the ground. The mirror sealed itself.
Gone.
Chains let out a breath, shaky and fast. "That was too close."
I didn't answer.
The room we'd entered wasn't part of the hallway.
It was round. Metal walls. Smooth. A little too perfect. The ceiling hung low and curved just slightly. It felt like standing in a can that had been sealed long ago.
At the center was a wheel.
The knife sat on top.
Chains picked it up without a word.
She crouched beside the wheel. "This again."
I didn't move.
She looked at me. "You okay?"
I blinked, then nodded.
She turned it.
It screeched like something alive.
The wall opened.
Mist spilled out, thick and glowing faint white.
Chains stepped back. My hand went to my side.
We didn't speak.
But we both knew.
A new trial had started.
And something was waiting in the mist.