Ezra's hands hovered over the pages, his breath shallow.
The words had appeared all at once—not written in ink, but as if they had always been there, simply waiting for him to see them.
The candle's flame remained frozen, locked in unnatural stillness. The air in the room felt denser, heavier, like the space itself had thickened.
He swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus. Read.
"The Veil is not a barrier—it is a filter. What exists beyond is not separate from us. It is here, always. It waits in the spaces we do not see, in the moments we forget, in the faces we no longer recognize."
"To glimpse beyond the Veil is not to open a door, but to realize the door was never closed."
"Once you have seen, it will see you."
Ezra's fingers twitched against the paper.
A deep unease crawled through his gut—not just at the words, but at the way they felt. As if the book wasn't merely revealing information, but pulling something from him in return.
He kept reading.
"There are ways to perceive what hides behind the Veil. But perception is permission. To acknowledge is to invite. To look is to be looked upon."
"The first method is simple: Change the light."
Ezra's breath hitched.
Change the light.
His eyes flicked toward the candle—the flame still unnaturally motionless. The book had reacted the moment he spoke the name aloud. What if…
Slowly, he reached forward and snuffed the candle out.
Darkness swallowed the room.
And in that instant, the air shifted.
Ezra felt it before he saw it—like the walls had stretched, the space around him pulling at the seams. The kind of sensation one got when waking from a dream and realizing something else is in the room.
Then—
A shape moved.
Not in the room.
In the mirror.
Ezra's pulse stopped.
The mirror sat against the far wall, its surface barely catching the faintest traces of moonlight from the window.
His own reflection stood there—still, unmoving.
But behind it…
Something else.
Not a person. Not a shadow.
Something that shouldn't be there.
Ezra inhaled sharply, his fingers curling into a fist.
This is just a trick. The book is playing with my mind.
But then—
The reflection tilted its head.
Not his reflection.
The thing behind him.
The whisper came, so close it brushed against his ear.
"Now you have seen."