The blade trembled in Lorraine's hand.
June sat in the center of the ritual circle, bleeding from the nose, the mouth, her chest carved with symbols not yet written in any book.
"She's still in there," Daniel pleaded behind the glass."Please. Don't kill her. Please—"
Lorraine's voice shook. "If Eleanor fully binds, June's soul will dissolve."
"But she's fighting.""How do you know?"
Lorraine turned to him, eyes wide.
"Because she hasn't kissed her yet."
Inside the circle, June opened her mouth—
And Eleanor spoke through it:
"We were meant to be one. Not him and me.You and me."
She turned to the shattered mirror behind her.
In it, June was alone. Pale. Afraid. Trapped.
"I didn't possess you. You invited me.When you touched the doll… when you held me close.You knew.You always knew."
Lorraine stepped forward. "June, if you can still hear me—speak."
June's body trembled.
And then—finally—her voice came, soft as breath:
"I let her in…because no one ever held me like she did."
The salt around the circle burst into flames.
The mirrors shattered outward.
Lorraine screamed the final exorcism prayer—And June collapsed, limbs seizing.
The doll exploded into ashes.
And silence.
Later, in the hospital:
June opened her eyes slowly.Daniel sat beside her, bandaged, crying quietly.
"Hey," she whispered.
He reached for her hand. "Is it… is it over?"
June looked out the window.
In the reflection, she saw her own face.
Only hers.
But…
Just before she looked away—
The reflection winked.
The End?
Or...
Not yet.