The mirror, once bright and a silent witness of joyful days, began to crack. Not on the surface, but from within, as if something inside it was trying to break free.
Yuki noticed it first. As he walked down the central hallway, the distorted reflection of his figure rippled, as though the glass was breathing. A fleeting flicker, an image that wasn't his, made him step back. And for a moment, the face of a child appeared behind his own—empty eyes and a broken smile.
—Rei… —he whispered instinctively.
But Rei wasn't there. Or at least, not entirely.
Noah descended from the attic with an alarmed expression. He had heard a whisper. One that called his name. One that came from the basement.
—Did you feel it? —he asked, breathless.
—Yes. And I think it's watching us.
They looked at each other, knowing it was time to go down. The basement had remained shut since their last exploration, but something told them they wouldn't come back the same this time.
The stairs groaned under their feet, and the air grew heavy with moisture and rotting memories. Noah's flashlight flickered, as if time itself hesitated to follow them.
Then, they saw it.
A wall that had once seemed solid now revealed a slit, a vertical crack from which a cold whisper emerged. And behind that crack, the silhouette of a hallway. It wasn't on any map of the house, not even in the old blueprints.
—This shouldn't be here —Noah murmured, touching the damp stone.
—What if the house isn't made only of bricks? —Yuki said—. What if it's made of memories too?
They advanced, guided by a primal intuition. At the end of the hallway stood an iron door with symbols etched in rust blocking their path. One of the symbols matched what Noah had seen in the abandoned orphanage—the same place where it all began.
And then, Rei appeared.
Not as a ghost, but as a living part of the place. His presence was dense, enveloping, almost tangible.
—You weren't supposed to come here.
His voice sounded broken, as if every word hurt him.
—What is this place? —Noah asked.
—An echo that should never have been repeated.
The lights flickered, and for a second, the world seemed to fold in on itself. The house roared from its depths, and the mirror upstairs shattered with a sudden crack, releasing a dark, icy breeze.
Something had awakened. And it no longer wished to sleep.