Alex, using the last of his strength, shoved his other hand into the mirror's surface—now rippling like liquid shadow—to save him. Lyn and Linet rushed in, gripping Alex's shoulders and dragging him back while whatever had hold of Luca pulled harder from within the glass. The force on the other side was stronger than all of them combined.
After a brutal struggle, Luca was finally wrenched out, crashing onto the floor with fresh bruises slashed across his skin, as if carved by glass. They pulled him away from the mirror and checked his pulse—but before they could panic, he gasped sharply, breath returning in ragged bursts. His dizzy eyes darted around the room, shocked he was still alive.
Lyn threw herself over him, tears blurring her vision. Linet's gaze flicked to Alex—his hands were slick with blood, fine cuts opening deeper as more crimson leaked out.
"I'm sorry, brother… I thought I lost you," Lyn sobbed into Luca's shoulder.
"Big girl crying, huh?" Luca smirked weakly. "If that thing had dragged me completely in, would you still be bawling like some wild woman?"
"Shut up, mongoose. You're alive—that's all that matters. I can breathe again. And thank you, Alexander," she added, her tone cutting through Alex like a quiet accusation.
Drew and Andy hovered at the doorway, silent. Out of nowhere, Lyn threw her arms around Alex. Caught off guard, he froze, then pushed her gently away, stepping back from her embrace.
"What's wrong? Did I offend you?" she asked.
"No… I'm just—just not comfortable," he stammered. "Anyway, we need a plan. Soon. Or we all… die."
"Don't be such a pessimist," Luca muttered. "Sure, danger's ahead, but not all of us are doomed. Probably just me. I swear, death whispers in my ears these days." He paused, realizing what he'd admitted. "Forget I said that."
"Tsk… this thing is driving me insane," Alex hissed. "I need to—"
"Guys, it's awakening! It's getting stronger!" Andy yelled as he tried to force the door open.
They spun toward the mirror. The shadow inside was no longer shifting—it stood still, staring directly at them. Then the mirror began to crack, hairline fractures running across its surface like lightning. The shadow hummed—low, guttural, ancient.
Before anyone could speak, Drew's voice ripped through the air:
"Run! The mirror's going to shatter! And the shards will kill you—they're deadlier than poison! RUN!"
They scattered, tripping over each other. Luca, of course, was last to move. Alex tried pushing him forward, but Luca's eyes stayed fixed on the breaking glass.
The mirror exploded.
But the shards didn't fall. They hovered—each one trembling in the air, all of them turning toward Luca.
Alah stood within the frame, no longer a reflection but a figure emerging from a black, dungeon-like void behind her. The shards whirled toward Luca, but he dove to the ground, dodging the first deadly sweep. None sliced him, and he ran after the others without hesitation.
"Hey! Why are we heading to the fields? Shouldn't we be going to Mr. Tan Woo?" he shouted breathlessly, finally catching up.
"You need help?" Andy asked.
"Nope. Strong as ever, dude," Luca puffed, hands on his knees. "See? Still breathing. Not old yet."
Drew led them through the dark, the streetlights flickering to life as if reluctantly obeying their presence. They approached a dimly lit house—Mr. Tan Woo's.
"It's late. Why's the old man still awake?" Andy whispered.
"He expecting us?"
"Old people never sleep early," Luca muttered with a chuckle.
They hesitated before the door. Andy knocked. A low groan came from inside.
"Mr. Tan Woo! Are you there?"
Footsteps. Heavy ones.
The door swung open, revealing the old man's sharp eyes—eyes that widened as he took in their torn clothes, the blood, and the terror clinging to them. Something in his face shifted.
"Go sleep. I've got no time for kids," he barked, trying to slam the door shut. Andy blocked it with his foot.
Tan Woo's gaze lingered on Lyn, then the others. He exhaled through his nose, jaw tightening. Slowly, he stepped aside and let them in.
Silence fell like a weight. His eyes scanned each of them again—calculating. Remembering. Dreading.
"So," he said finally, voice low and gravelly. "What problem brings you here at this hour?"
Lyn stepped forward.
"Who is Alah?"