Chapter 11: Breach of Sanctuary
The peaceful illusion of the new land did not last. Days passed—strangely quiet, filled with rebuilding and whispered fears—but the sense of safety thinned like stretched glass. Cracks shimmered faintly in the air, forming briefly on smooth walls, flickering between branches, glinting on the surface of water. The Hollow Ones were searching.
John stood atop a small rise, iron pipe still at his side, surveying the budding village they'd built. Jake and Cherlyn worked with others nearby—those who'd also escaped through the portal: Marla the nurse, grim-faced but gentle; Omar the scavenger, who'd found them shelter; and the silent boy with mirror eyes who had yet to speak.
Rick's shade lingered by the cracked stone archway at the village's edge. His form flickered, growing more transparent.
"They're close," Rick whispered, barely audible. "The cracks widen. They smell your fear."
John turned to him. "How long before they breach?"
"A day. Two, if you're lucky. Unless you seal the cracks."
"How?"
Rick's image shimmered. "The Heart's fragments. When you broke the Heart, pieces scattered across realms—each fragment a seal. Find them. Bind the cracks. Or they will return."
A cold dread settled over John. The fight wasn't over. It had only shifted.
He gathered the others that night by firelight. Jake frowned as John explained, knuckles white on his crowbar.
"So we have to go back? Into the cracks?" Jake muttered.
Marla shook her head. "That's madness. Those realms are poison. You saw what they did to the Tower."
"If we don't, they'll come here," Cherlyn said softly. "We survived the Tower. We can survive this."
Silence. Then Omar stood. "I'll go. Better to die fighting than hiding."
Rick's ghostly form drifted closer. "The nearest fragment lies beyond the southern glade. A crack leads there... to the Mirror Waste. Be warned: the Hollow Twins wait there. Stronger. Angrier."
John tightened his grip on the pipe. "Then we go at dawn. Prepare."
That night, nightmares returned—visions of the Tower rebuilt in shadow, the Harbinger walking its halls, smiling with empty eyes. When John awoke, frost rimed the grass. A sign: the veil between worlds thinned.
As the sun rose, the group—John, Jake, Cherlyn, Omar, Marla—gathered at the crack near the southern glade. Rick's shade waited, face grave.
"This path leads to the Mirror Waste," Rick warned. "There, reality folds. Memories twist. The Twins feed on your mind. Hold onto yourselves. Speak no lies. Show no fear."
The crack shimmered—a jagged wound in the air. With a last breath, John stepped through.
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The Mirror Waste unfolded—a landscape of broken glass and frozen reflections. Shards of mirror jutted from the ground, the sky, even from pools of still black water. Each surface showed warped visions: the Tower whole and bright; the city unbroken; family dinners never had; friends long