When lies wear lace and secrets wear heels, the truth doesn't walk—it struts.Asher's reality grows thinner than silk, and what waits underneath the city isn't just demonic... it's hungry.
"This is getting out of hand."
Asher stood on the edge of a rust-rotted rooftop, wind teasing the edges of his coat. Below him, where once stood The Velvet Spiral, there was only gravel, broken glass, and a single flickering lamp post casting a pale yellow cone of fake safety.
Not even a scorch mark. Not even a smudge.The city had swallowed it whole.
It had all been real—hadn't it?
The succubus. The whispers. The mirror version of him that winked.
And yet… the world had moved on like nothing happened. Hollowgate's night never mourned. It just traded one lie for another.
He reached into his pack and pulled out the mask. Its surface shimmered faintly in the morning light, an oily sheen like gasoline on water. A dozen reflections looked back at him—none quite right.
It wasn't just a relic anymore.It was a key.A compass.A curse.
"As above, so below," he muttered, echoing something he once read in Rey's notebooks. "Except nothing about this feels heavenly."
His grip tightened. The mask pulsed like a heartbeat.
"Alright, Velvet Spiral. You wanna play weird mirror mind games? Fine. But I play dirty."
------------------------------------------------
Back at Rey's Apartment
"You look like someone microwaved a haunted doll and then dared it to love again," Rey said, handing him a mug of black coffee as he collapsed onto her futon like gravity had finally caught up to him.
Asher groaned into the cushions. "Can haunted dolls have existential crises?"
"Only if they're named Asher Blackwood."
She plopped down beside him, her feet tucked under her, notebook already in hand. He could tell she'd been waiting—anxious, maybe scared. But trying hard to cover it with sarcasm.
"Start talking," she said. "And if you say 'it's complicated,' I will legally marry your raccoon."
"We don't have a raccoon."
"Yet."
He took a deep breath and spilled everything. The club. The succubus. The dreamscape of mirrors. The other him. The cryptic whispers. The kiss that shouldn't have felt… good.
Rey listened. Really listened.
No jokes. No interruptions.
When he was done, she turned the notebook around and pointed at two overlapping symbols—one jagged like a claw, the other smooth and spiraling.
"This one's a Lust sigil," she said. "Fifth Circle stuff. Succubi, dream-walkers, soul drinkers."
"And the other?" he asked.
She hesitated. "Divine. But inverted. Someone's mixing celestial magic with infernal code. It's like... grafting angel wings onto a corpse and hoping it flies."
Asher blinked. "So what the hell does that make her?"
Rey met his eyes. "Something old. And wrong."
Then she closed the book with a slap. "Time to ask Grevlin."
--------------------------------
That Night – The Red Zone
The Red Zone pulsed like a wound that wouldn't close.
It was a district forgotten by maps and mercy—where the streets bled rust and neon, and every corner had a price in flesh, secrets, or both. Pleasure parlors disguised as confessionals. Ritual shops selling "salvation" in glowing vials. Temples with no gods—only cravings.
Asher moved through it like a shadow with a mission, the mask tucked under his coat like a gun that whispered.
He found the alley.
Dr. Grevlin was already waiting—leaning against a dumpster, barefoot, wearing a vest with too many rings and glasses too thick to be fashion.
"You smell like lust and disappointment," the man rasped.
"Nice to see you too."
They traded nothing but words. No payment. No promises.
"Velvet Spiral ain't a place," Grevlin said, pulling a cracked mirror from his coat. "It's a threshold. Hidden by glamour. Protected by intention. Only those marked by the Mask can see it. Everyone else sees garbage. Or a sewer. Or nothing at all."
"So it was real?"
"Oh, it's real," Grevlin said grimly. "Just not here."
He lifted the mirror.
And there she was.
The succubus. Seated on her throne of flesh and whispers. A figure cloaked beside her. They were speaking, but the glass rippled too much to hear clearly.
"What are they saying?" Asher asked, throat dry.
Grevlin squinted. "Emotions. Gateways. They're trying to open something. But they need you. Need what you feel. Or what you fear."
The mirror cracked down the center.
So did the wall behind them.
Not metaphorically.
A bloated hand erupted from solid concrete. No seams. No warning. Just brute birth. Wet fingers groped the air, followed by a mouth too wide and too toothless, moaning like a funeral in reverse.
"RUN!" Grevlin shrieked.
Asher didn't hesitate. He pulled the mask on.
The world tilted—
And changed.
------------------------------
The Mirror Realm
Silence. Stillness. The Red Zone was now… pristine.
No blood. No stink.
But every window—every puddle, shard, surface—showed him.
A different him.
One covered in scars. One laughing, bloody hands open. One curled into a fetal position, crying. One wearing a crown. One wearing chains.
And one—dead, eyes wide, throat slit.
"You wear the face of change, Asher Blackwood," a voice whispered. "But change is a scalpel. It cuts before it heals."
He turned.
There he was—the masked double. Standing tall, arms crossed.
"I'm you. The part you keep locking in the mirror."
Asher narrowed his eyes. "And what do you want?"
"To win," the figure said. "And to stop pretending that you don't like what's happening."
That hit harder than he wanted to admit.
"I don't—"
"You do," the voice echoed. "You feel alive. Finally. And that… that's the first sin."
Back to Reality
Grevlin was gone.
The hand. The mouth. The wall—gone.
Only the mirror remained. Shattered. Its edges slick with something wet.
Words written in blood beneath the shards:
THE PLEASURE ISN'T THE SIN. IT'S THE DOORWAY.
Asher backed away.
His heart pounded.
Then—
A soft voice behind him, purring like silk soaked in venom:
"Would you like to see what's on the other side?"
He turned.
The succubus.
Real.
Standing in daylight.
And she wasn't alone.
[End Of Chapter 27]
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Asher's breath caught. Behind her stood others—men and women in masks. Some looked human. Others didn't bother pretending. All watching him.
And every single reflection around them… grinned.
Next Chapter Preview:Chapter 28 – "The Devil's Invitation"Dragged into a twisted masquerade of velvet masks and venomous smiles, Asher must navigate a feast of fantasies and falsehoods. The succubus isn't done with him. And beneath the pleasure? A prophecy waits to bleed.