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Taylor sealed the door behind her, leaving the room she had meticulously searched. Emptiness was her only companion; her eyes had caught no trace of the elusive. Jasper's motives eluded her. She loathed to concede, yet the truth was plain—they were at a loss without Mandy in such matters. Joining her in the murky corridor, Leroy mirrored her bewilderment, his shoulders lifting in a hopeless shrug.

"This is futile—I sense nothing, and even the faintest hint of a specter eludes me," grumbled the monk. Taylor exhaled heavily.

"Why does this feel like an elaborate wild goose chase?"

"That's just Jasper being Jasper..."

Sharing in Leroy's resigned sigh, Taylor stood with folded arms, eyes smoldering as they bored into the floor.

"Something amiss?" inquired Leroy, arching an eyebrow in her direction.

"I'm certain this is all a ruse by him; he orchestrated our absence for reasons of his own—the conniving scoundrel," she postulated.

"I'm game to uncover his plot—let's head back," declared Leroy, having grown weary of their pointless meandering through the theater corridors.

"Lead on," concurred Taylor, striding purposefully ahead.

"Ahem—" Leroy interjected, "the base is this direction," pointing left down the adjoining hallway. Taylor halted and glanced back at him,

"No, it's decidedly this way," she contended firmly, jabbing the air towards her chosen path. Unconvinced, Leroy crossed his arms and countered,

"I differ; you’re disoriented. It’s definitely to our left."

Taylor's features soured slightly,

"My sense of direction is quite intact."

"Nope, it isn’t."

"Yes, it is."

"Isn’t."

"Is."

"Isn't!"

"Is!"

Their altercation crescendoed, both flushed and resolute under each other’s defiant gaze.

"All right then, if you're so confident—proceed," conceded Leroy finally, pivoting sharply and striding towards the left.

Dismissive glances trailed Leroy's departing figure,

"Enjoy your detour!" Taylor called out sarcastically, venturing down the opposing corridor determinedly.

"Idiotic priestess..." muttered under his breath.

The priestess halted abruptly, her cheeks flaring a shade that mirrored her fiery hair. With intentional slowness, she pivoted,

"Would you kindly repeat that?"

At the far end of the corridor, Leroy, distracted, barely registered her voice,

"Excuse me? Did you need something?"

Catching a glimpse of the priestess bathed in an angry red hue against the shadowy backdrop, he wondered if perhaps an apology was due...

"What seems to be the issue here?"

"Muster the courage to say it again," she hissed under her breath.

Leroy echoed, befuddled, "What's the issue?"

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Taylor advanced a few paces in his direction,

"Don't feign ignorance with me, Monk."

"Hold on there—there's no cause for rage..."

Taylor came to an abrupt stop; her expression contorted with suppressed irritation. Leroy maintained a nervous distance...what grievance had he committed? Just as he anticipated a storm, she exhaled deeply, dissipating her fury. Residual resolve glinted in her eye.

"Very well. I shall waste no more time on such childish tactics," she declared dismissively while gesturing in that all-too-familiar dismissive way of accepting defeat. She withdrew from him briskly, leaving Leroy behind to gaze in bewilderment. His discomfort lingered...this episode was unfinished; Taylor wasn't one to concede so easily. Halfway down the corridor when he ultimately shrugged and departed in another direction. Women were indeed perplexing...

Suddenly—a scream pierced the silence. Taylor's scream. Without hesitation, Leroy spun and sprinted back toward her voice. Moments later, he found the priestess cornered against the wall, a hand gracefully placed over her heart, complexion ghostly.

"Taylor..." Leroy said urgently but gently shaking her shoulder when she showed no sign of awareness. Her gaze darted to him; another hand outstretched towards the mirror opposite them. Leroy recoiled; an entire passageway lined with mirrors. Each oval-shaped piece framed in gold reflected their images against its lustrous silver surface—he beheld their mirrored selves with bewilderment reflected in Taylor's widened eyes as if she'd glimpsed an apparition.

"Not to worry Mills, we all endure less than perfect hair days," he quipped lightly.

That provoked a reaction; she whipped around casting him a scalding look,

"It's not about my hair! I—saw something..."

Leroy's grin dissolved into a grave expression as he arched an enquiring eyebrow at her.

"Did you witness something?" Taylor's impatience was palpable as she jerked her shoulder from his grasp, straightening herself assertively. "Of course, I did!" she retorted tersely. Leroy's anxiousness ebbed slightly at the sight of color flooding back into her cheeks, though he was less enthusiastic about her resuming her interrogation.

"Do you question what I saw?" Her penetrating gaze demanded the truth. Leroy couldn't hold her challenging stare and instead pretended to scrutinize the mirror more intently. "So, what exactly do you believe you saw?"

Biting her lip hesitantly, Taylor scanned the room before returning Leroy’s inquisitive gaze. This nervous tick further intrigued him. "Well?"

With a defiant look that challenged him to mock her next words, Taylor declared, "I'm certain—I saw myself... aged... or dead. I can't distinguish which."

Leroy's initial urge to chuckle at what seemed like vanity withered at the mention of death. His focus shifted firmly to the mirror as he experimented with it—waving his hand in front of it, pacing by it, even tapping it—all futile attempts; his own disturbed reflection was all that stared back. Taylor's voice broke through his skepticism, "I'm clear on what I witnessed. Your belief isn't a necessity for me."

Their eyes locked through the reflection in the mirror. Moments before, Taylor had been seething with anger—could it be her imagination? "This is debatable," Leroy mumbled, "But what's certain is the lateness of the hour and our base lies in that direction." He motioned over his shoulder toward their intended route.

With arms folded protectively and a snort of annoyance, Taylor surged ahead. Shaking his head in disbelief, Leroy raked fingers through his hair and glanced at himself in the mirror one final time—there was nothing amiss. With a self-assured smile showcasing his youthful good looks, he followed after the irate priestess with confidence.

Then—his heart skipped a beat. In the last mirror they passed, a horrifying visage leered back at him as if attempting to crawl from within its depths; his face showed signs of decay—wrinkled and sagging skin tinged with gray pallor. An involuntary gasp escaped him as Taylor rushed to his side urgently.

"What? What did you see?" She insisted fervently while gazing into the same glass that had just frightened him so; she found only his alarmed and ghostly expression.

"Leroy," she urged, shaking his shoulder vigorously until he jolted back to reality. Without another word, he seized her arm and propelled them both down the hallway with urgent haste.

"Leroy!" Taylor panted in bewilderment while trying weakly to free herself from his iron grip—though part of her was eager to flee from that cursed mirror as well. He paid no mind to her protests as they fled—the cold sweat drenching his brow indicating a terror that words could hardly convey.

"Leroy, halt!" Taylor's voice cut through the air as she anchored her feet firmly to the ground. They were in close proximity to the base – there was no way she would allow Jasper and Max to witness their disarray. At long last, the monk ceased his advance, allowing Taylor a moment of reprieve. She tenderly extricated her limb from his iron-like clasp, feeling a tinge of soreness.

"Appreciate that," she muttered under her breath while massaging her arm needlessly.

For the first time since their impromptu dash, Leroy's gaze fell upon her. The words struggled to leave his lips, "I regret doubting you." Taylor ceased her ministrations to meet his gaze.

"You actually sound genuine; this really has you rattled, doesn't it?"

"We must confide in Jasper," Leroy pressed on, clearly unamused by her quip. Taylor conceded with a nod.

"Indeed, but not with you in this state," she replied loftily. Out of nowhere, she produced a handkerchief from within her robes and marched ahead with purpose. Leroy stood there for a moment, watching her disappear into the base with a mix of bemusement and admiration. He wiped his forehead and trailed behind, clutching the handkerchief she had given him.