The first waves crashed against the yacht's bow as it entered a thick, sticky fog. The lighthouse's light, visible somewhere in the distance, flickered like an illusion. Ethan stared ahead, his hands gripping the wheel as if everyone's life on board depended on it.
Behind him, a scene unfolded like something out of a hallucination. Jennifer was laughing and crying at the same time, lying on the floor. Betty had rushed into the cabin, screaming that she had to get out, that someone was following her. Jake's pupils were dilated, and he didn't respond to any words, repeating just one sentence: "He's coming back. Noah is coming back."
Nancy tried to take control of the situation, but she herself felt her thoughts unraveling. Every sound echoed in her head. Mason's voice, when he said, "The illusion of freedom," circled inside her like a mantra. Like a blade.
Olivia, clutching the edge of the bar, suddenly screamed:
— "Someone's here! Below deck! I saw his face in the mirrors!"
Mason, now Noah, entered slowly. His steps were calm, his gaze clear, as if he were the only sane person left on the ship.
— "We're close," he said quietly, more to himself than to anyone else.
Ethan glanced back at him over his shoulder.
— "Are you sure this is the right time?"
Mason gave a faint smile.
— "They're no longer thinking. Now we can begin."
The yacht sliced through the fog like a knife. And then, on the horizon, the island appeared. There was no turning back.
The island emerged from the mist like a bad omen. Covered in dark trees, it looked like a dead land — motionless, lifeless. There was no sound, no birdsong, only the monotonous sound of waves hitting the shore and the dull hum of the engine.
Ethan navigated carefully, avoiding looking back. He knew that if he did, he would see only madness — shattered glass, overturned furniture, people fighting with their own minds. They were already gone. Their consciousness had shattered somewhere between a glass of wine and the last laugh.
— "Get the dinghy ready," Mason said coldly. "Not all of them will be able to walk on their own."
Jennifer knelt beside Jake, who now whispered to her in a foreign language. Will and Daniel lay unconscious. Olivia had retreated into the cabin, covering the mirrors with a scarf that once belonged to Betty. And Betty? She stood in the middle of the deck, staring up at the sky with a wide, glassy smile, as if speaking to God. Beside her lay Nancy, who had suddenly lost consciousness.
The dinghy pushed off from the yacht. Mason and Ethan transported their friends. Each of them was a shadow of their former self. When they landed, their feet sank into the sand. The moisture was sticky, and the air heavy — thick with something unspeakable.
The island was waiting for them.
Their bodies were left on the beach, so that no one would suspect what had happened. According to the instructions of Mason's second personality, Ethan took Olivia deep into the forest, imprisoning her, since she was an uninvited guest.
Mason himself headed toward the hotel, clearly intrigued by it. He wasn't afraid. He felt a thrill, thinking about how he would take revenge on his friends.
Wandering through the hotel, he found a room in which he decided to sleep. He knew that when he woke up, he would be Mason again — with no memory of how he got there.
Present Day
They descended slowly, one by one, down the rotting stairs leading to the basement. Each step seemed louder than the last, as if the darkness below was warning them not to go further. The walls were damp, covered with handprints — old, burned into the wood, as if someone had tried to escape.
Nancy led the way, holding an old lantern she had found in one of the cupboards. Its light was weak, but it was all they had. Down here, time had no meaning. There was only echo. And death.
— "I feel it," Jennifer whispered. "As if we're walking straight into a grave."
— "This place wasn't meant to be a basement," Nancy replied. "It was something more. Ritual catacombs. The cemetery of a psychiatric hospital."
When they reached the bottom, the light fell on an old door with an iron lock. A symbol was burned into it: three interlocking circles and one eye in the center. Mason stopped right in front of it.
— "This is it," he said quietly.
Nancy looked at him closely. He was different. His face had paled, his eyes darkened — as if the shadow of Noah had completely fused with him. There was no more hesitation in his movements. No humanity either.
Jake stepped up to the door and placed his hand on the lock.
— "They're breathing," he whispered.
And then the doors opened on their own.
Behind them was a space that shouldn't have existed. A wide hall with an altar at the center, built from stone and bone. Along the walls hung portraits — not painted, but etched in blood. The faces resembled theirs... but they were distorted, twisted in pain.
On the altar lay a journal. Nancy was the first to approach, opening it slowly. The letters were smudged, as if the paper itself was bleeding.
— "It's Mason's grandfather's journal," she said. "He started all of this."
As she began to read aloud, sounds filled the chamber. Not human — deep, piercing.
"Born of blood, reborn from shadow. An open portal shall not be closed without a sacrifice of one's own heart..."
Mason stepped back. His body began to tremble.
— "Nancy... no..." he said, but his voice had changed. This wasn't Mason anymore. It had been Noah all along, now fully controlling his body.
— "Oh, I must've accidentally left Grandpa Mason's journal here," he said mockingly.
Olivia, Betty, Jennifer, and Jake all recoiled. The shadow that had followed them now filled the entire space. Its presence was undeniable — it was with them in the stones, the air, their thoughts.
Nancy looked at Mason.
— "I know who you are," she said. "And I know what I must do, Noah, even if it breaks my heart. I have to save myself and my friends, even though you matter to me. You — and Mason, who I also want to rescue from this hell."
She reached into her inner pocket and pulled out an old figurine — carved from wood, marked with symbols. It was the key. Hidden years ago by the sole survivor of the ritual.
— "Either we lock them away," she said, walking toward the altar, "or we stay here forever."
The shadow howled. The walls began to shake. The lantern went out. Darkness fell over the basement.
And the fight for a final chance began.