Chapter 107

Chapter 107
The echo of the creature’s shriek hadn’t yet faded when Skylar, Damon, and Rhea charged into the abyss, hearts pounding like war drums in their chests. The shard of mirror in Skylar’s hand burned cold, pulsing with something alive. Something ancient.

Behind them, the nightmare’s form solidified. No longer a shifting shadow—it had grown roots in this place. Eyes blinked across its body, each one reflecting different fears. Rhea’s mother. Damon’s brother. Skylar’s triplets—faces twisted in agony, calling for help.

Ignore it. Skylar pushed the images away. That’s what it wanted—weakness. Hesitation.

The hall ahead of them stretched impossibly long, each step resounding like it was inside a cathedral. Runes crawled across the stone like living veins, glowing with unstable energy. The air itself crackled with pressure.

Suddenly—BOOM—a wall of smoke erupted behind them. The nightmare had released its tendrils.

“Left!” Rhea shouted, pulling Skylar by the arm.

They ducked into a side chamber, slamming the stone door shut behind them. Damon wedged a broken torch into the handle.

For now, it would hold.

The chamber was circular, lined with faded murals—symbols Skylar didn’t recognize, but Rhea inhaled sharply.

“I’ve seen this before,” Rhea said, rushing to the nearest painting. “These are the original seals. The ones that were supposed to keep the nightmare from ever crossing over.”

“Why are they here?” Damon asked.

“Because this isn’t just a prison,” Rhea whispered. “It’s a testing ground. And I think we’re standing inside one of the nightmare’s memories.”

Skylar frowned. “Memories?”

Rhea touched the center of the wall. The painting flickered—reality bending for a moment. The room shifted.

Suddenly, they were no longer alone.

Figures stood in the room with them—ghostly outlines. Hooded men. A child bound to the floor. Candles in a circle. A ritual in progress.

And then—screaming.

The child convulsed, his eyes turning black. The symbols flared with fire. A portal tore open behind him—and something reached out.

The nightmare.

“It used children…” Damon murmured. “As sacrifices.”

Rhea nodded grimly. “And this chamber remembers.”

The scene vanished. The room returned to its quiet, stone form.

“But why show us this?” Skylar asked. “Why not just kill us?”

“Because it’s not done playing,” Rhea replied, voice hollow. “It feeds on suffering. And it wants ours to last.”

Suddenly, the mirror shard in Skylar’s hand vibrated violently. She dropped it, but instead of falling—it floated midair. Spinning. Growing.

It reformed into a standing mirror, crack pulsing like a heartbeat.

Rhea gasped. “This isn’t just a doorway anymore… it’s a mouth.”

And it opened.

The nightmare surged through.

Skylar shoved Rhea aside as a tendril shot toward them. Damon raised his rifle, but the creature’s body warped, phasing through bullets like mist. The only thing that slowed it was light—and fire.

Skylar grabbed the torch from the door.

“Back to the murals!” she shouted. “The seals!”

She ran to the largest symbol—a sun broken by three arrows. Her hand hovered over it.

“What if this wakes up something worse?” Damon warned.

Skylar looked at him, then back at the nightmare.

“It already did.”

She pressed her hand to the mural.

The floor lit up beneath them, rings of ancient script flaring to life in brilliant white. The nightmare screeched, its form shattering into pieces, reforming, shattering again. The mirror pulsed, shrinking, warping.

The creature lunged one last time—but the mirror snapped shut.

Silence.

The mirror fell to the ground, cracked clean through.

Skylar collapsed beside it, breath ragged.

Damon sat down beside her, still shaking. “You did it.”

“No,” Rhea said softly, standing in the doorway. “We did.”

She turned her eyes toward the wall. The murals had changed—each seal now faded, blackened.

“One chance,” she murmured. “That’s all we bought ourselves.”

Skylar looked at her. “What do you mean?”

Rhea hesitated. “That was just one tether. One part of it. But the nightmare… it’s still coming. That chamber wasn’t a memory—it was a warning.”

“Then what was it warning us about?” Damon asked.

And then the clock began to chime.

Not just from the tower. From inside the room. From inside their bones.

3:33.

The walls split open.

And behind them was a corridor lined with mirrors.

Each one showing a different version of them.

In some, they were dead. In others, corrupted. In one, Skylar stood alone—her eyes black as night.

“No,” she whispered. “This… this can’t be real.”

Rhea stepped closer, studying the hallway.

“They’re timelines. Fractured paths. Possibilities the nightmare has touched.”

“Why show us this now?” Damon said.

“Because it’s choosing,” Rhea said coldly. “Or maybe… asking us to choose.”

Skylar stared at the mirrors—at herself as a mother, as a monster, as something worse.

Her hand reached toward the mirror where the world was on fire.

And just before her fingers touched it—

A voice echoed behind them.

“Careful. Some doors don’t open both ways.”

They turned.

A figure stepped into view. Hooded. Familiar.

Skylar’s breath caught.

“Damon… is that…?”

It was him.

But older. Hardened. Scarred.

The other Damon pulled his hood back, revealing the same eyes, now filled with sorrow.

“I made the wrong choice,” he said.

And then the mirror behind him shattered.