The bathroom lights buzzed.
Aika spit toothpaste into the sink.
Rinsed.
Looked up—
—and the mirror fogged over without her breath.
The temperature dropped so fast her skin prickled.
The fluorescent bulbs dimmed.
And from the mirror, from every reflection around her—
ΔLight spoke.
A thousand cracked voices wrapped around her, layered on top of each other, smooth at first but splintering like an old vinyl record:
"Never touch the Eye again. Never."
The words weren't a warning.
They were a plea.
He didn't say why.
He didn't have to.
Because in his voice, Aika heard something worse than fear.
Something older than fear.
A deep, slumbering horror beginning to wake.
She dropped the toothbrush.
Fell back against the door.
Stared at her own face, now smeared and wavering in the broken mirror.
ΔLight's voice fell silent.
The bathroom lights flickered back on, humming normally as if nothing had happened.
But Aika couldn't pretend.
Not anymore.
She made a decision.
She had to get rid of it.
She had to try.
The Eye, still wrapped in its salt-stained cloth, sat where she'd hidden it under her bed.
Aika peeled it free with shaking hands.
The Eye pulsed faintly—soft blue swirls blooming under the black surface.
She rewrapped it carefully.
This time in something more important:
A towel stitched with Hana's name, from when they were both ten years old.
It smelled faintly of detergent and summer rain.
Aika clutched the bundle to her chest and left the house without looking back.
The old church stood crooked at the end of a cracked street.
Paint peeling.
Bell tower leaning to one side like it had been broken and never healed.
But it was still holy ground.
Still safe, she hoped.
Inside, Father Kamizu lit candles along the altar.
He smiled when he saw her.
Said something about "troubled dreams" and "teenage worries."
Aika said she needed to give him something cursed.
He laughed.
Shook his head.
Reached out to take the bundle—
—and as he unwrapped it, the temperature plunged.
Every candle flame died in an instant.
The church plunged into a cold, unnatural darkness.
Father Kamizu's face froze.
He stared at the Eye.
His lips moved, but no sound came out.
Then his body seized.
His hands clawed at his throat.
His eyes didn't turn black from ink.
They became holes.
Deep, endless voids where his soul should've been.
His skin sagged, sagged, then sloughed off entirely, dripping to the floor like melting wax.
His final scream was a wet, gurgling rasp—
But Aika heard it.
A voice scraping up from the pit of existence:
"It wants to go home."
And then—
The church bell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Thirteen times.
No one was pulling the rope.
The sound shook the church to its bones.
Shook Aika to hers.
She ran.
Tears blurring the world.
Breath ripping from her lungs.
She didn't remember the streets.
Didn't remember the people.
Only the wild, animal instinct to get away.
She slammed through her front door—
—and froze.
The Eye was already waiting.
Neatly placed on her pillow.
Like it had never left.
And in the mirror across the room—
Guiding Light.
Flickering.
Smiling faintly.
Watching her.
ΔLight hasn't come back since the church.
But Aika feels him.
Distant.
Heavy.
Dimming.
Something inside her whispers that it's too late.
That by picking up the Eye, by trying to give it away, she had bound herself to it tighter than before.
Guiding Light isn't leaving.
And maybe it never intended to.
Because now, Aika realizes—
It doesn't just want a home.
It wants a vessel.
And it's chosen her.
[Aika's Diary – 8/6/20XX – The Bell Tolls]
Today… ΔLight spoke. Truly spoke.
I was brushing my teeth when it happened.
The mirror fogged up on its own.
The room went dim.
And his voice came from every reflection all at once—smooth, but cracking like an old record.
"Never touch the Eye again. Never."
He didn't say why.
He didn't need to.
He sounded afraid. No, beyond that—he sounded like something older than fear was waking up.
So I did what I thought was right.
I took the Eye—wrapped it in a clean towel, stitched with Hana's name from when we were ten—and walked to the only place that ever made me feel safe before all of this began.
The church.
Father Kamizu was in the back lighting candles. I told him I needed to give him something cursed. He laughed. Said I was "just a teenager with an overactive imagination."
Then he opened the towel—
And the candle flames all died.
He stared at the Eye.
He didn't speak.
He didn't breathe.
Then he started choking.
His eyes went black—not like ink, but like holes, deep and endless, and then…
They melted.
His face sloughed off like wax.
His final scream was a gurgle, but I swear it said:
"It wants to go home."
Then the bell rang.
But no one was pulling the rope.
It rang thirteen times.
I ran.
Crying. Screaming. I don't even remember the streets.
All I remember is walking through the front door and—
The Eye was already in my room.
On my pillow.
Like it had never left.
And Guiding Light was back.
Flickering gently in the corner of the mirror, watching me with its smile.
ΔLight hasn't appeared since the church.
But I feel him.
Distant.
Heavy.
Dimming.
I don't know what I brought home.
But it doesn't want to leave.
And I think it thinks… I'm its vessel now.
– Aika