Chapter 7: The Resistance

Avra’s steps echoed unnaturally in the vast expanse beyond the door. The air was thick and buzzing with energy, yet it didn’t weigh her down as it should. Instead, it felt like an embrace—a dark, daunting one, but oddly comforting. She paused for a moment, staring at her hands. Her skin seemed the same, her movements unaffected.

But she knew what should have happened.

She had seen the remnants of those who had come before her, their porcelain-like faces, their stiff limbs frozen in eerie poses. The lifeless dolls scattered throughout Wonderland were a warning, one she had fully expected to succumb to. Yet here she was, whole and moving.

“Why?” she whispered to herself, her voice reverberating in the stillness.

Behind her, Devereux staggered through the doorway, his eyes wide and frantic. “Avra!” he shouted, his voice cracking with panic. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her, his gaze darting over her as though searching for signs of transformation.

But there was none.

“You… you’re not turning,” he murmured, more to himself than to her. His voice was laced with disbelief and something else—fear.

Avra turned to him slowly, a small smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. “No,” she said simply.

Devereux took a cautious step forward, his brow furrowed. “That’s impossible. Everyone turns. Everyone who crosses that threshold…” He trailed off, his words hanging in the air like a challenge.

She tilted her head, her smirk growing. “Maybe I’m not like everyone else.”

Her words sent a shiver down Devereux’s spine. He had seen so many fall—men and women who had fought, screamed, begged for mercy as Wonderland claimed them. Even those who tried to resist had eventually succumbed. But Avra stood before him, untouched by the curse, her presence defying the very nature of the place he had created.

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Avra took a slow step toward him, her eyes glinting with something he couldn’t quite place. “This place,” she said softly, gesturing around them. “It’s dark, yes. Twisted. But it’s also…” She paused, searching for the right word. “Honest.”

“Honest?” Devereux echoed, his voice tinged with incredulity.

She nodded, her smirk fading into a thoughtful expression. “In the real world, you’re expected to smile, to conform, to suppress the things that don’t fit the mold. Here… there’s no need for that. The darkness doesn’t hide. It’s out in the open, raw and unfiltered.”

Devereux stared at her, his mind racing. She wasn’t wrong. Wonderland had a way of stripping away pretenses, forcing people to confront their deepest fears and desires. But that was precisely what made it dangerous.

“You feel at home here,” he said slowly, realization dawning on him.

Avra met his gaze, her expression unreadable. “Maybe I do,” she said after a moment.

Devereux’s chest tightened. If Wonderland couldn’t turn her into a doll, what would it do instead? Would it let her stay as she was, or would it twist her into something far worse?

“Avra, listen to me,” he said urgently, stepping closer. “You may feel comfortable here now, but that doesn’t mean you’re safe. Wonderland adapts. If it can’t break you one way, it’ll find another.”

She raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in her eyes. “Maybe I don’t need saving, Devereux. Maybe I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Her words sent a chill through him, but he couldn’t deny the truth in her voice. She wasn’t afraid, not like the others had been. In fact, she seemed to thrive in the very environment that had broken so many before her.

The ground beneath them rumbled faintly, the first sign that Wonderland was responding to the anomaly in its design. Shadows shifted in the corners of the room, coiling and uncoiling like living things.

Devereux’s jaw tightened. “We need to leave,” he said firmly, reaching for her arm.

But Avra pulled away, her smirk returning. “Leave? Why would I do that?”

Before he could respond, the whispers returned, louder and more distinct than ever.

“She’s different…”

“She belongs…”

“Or does she…?”

The shadows began to converge, forming a swirling mass that pulsed with unnatural energy. Devereux instinctively stepped in front of Avra, shielding her with his body.

“What’s happening?” Avra asked, her voice calm despite the chaos unfolding around them.

Devereux didn’t answer immediately. He was too focused on the growing mass of shadows, his mind racing to make sense of what he was seeing.

“Wonderland is trying to figure you out,” he said finally, his voice grim. “It doesn’t understand why it can’t claim you.”

Avra’s smirk widened. “Good,” she said simply.

Devereux shot her a sharp look. “This isn’t a game, Avra. If Wonderland can’t turn you, it’ll do something worse. It’ll—”

Before he could finish, the shadows surged forward, enveloping them both in an instant. The world around them dissolved into darkness, leaving nothing but the sound of Avra’s laughter echoing through the void.

For the first time in years, Devereux felt something he hadn’t allowed himself to feel: hope. If Avra could resist Wonderland’s curse, maybe—just maybe—there was a way to end it after all.

But as the darkness pressed in, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were only at the beginning of something far more dangerous.