Ethan Ward stood in the mirror hall of The Haunted Haven, the silver ring from Lydia Kane’s freedom glinting on his finger beside the brass key. Shattered glass crunched under his boots, the air thick with the hum of the signal—louder now, sharper, threading through the walls like a living pulse. Sophie Bennett gripped her wrench beside him, her flashlight beam darting across the cracked mirrors, while Lydia hovered at his other side, her crimson dress stark against the gloom, her presence solid since the pact.

“Nice teamwork back there,” Sophie said, her voice steady despite the tension. “Breaking mirrors for fun and profit—seven years’ bad luck, right?”

Ethan smirked, the locket warm in his pocket. “Add it to the tab. We’re already cursed.” He swept his flashlight over the hall, the fractured reflections staring back—his own face, Sophie’s, Lydia’s—warped and flickering. The radio’s last command—The mirrors reflect the broken. Face yourself, Ethan—rang in his skull, and he wasn’t sure he liked where it was headed.

Lydia’s gaze flicked to the largest mirror, still intact at the corridor’s end, its surface rippling like water. “It’s not done,” she said, her whisper sharp. “Freeing me was the start. The signal wants more—it wants you.”

“Me?” Ethan’s grip tightened on the key, the ring pulsing faintly. “What’s that mean—face myself?”

“Your fear,” Lydia said, stepping closer, her eyes piercing. “The Haven feeds on it—traps it, reflects it. Your parents faced theirs here. I did too. Now it’s your turn.”

Sophie raised an eyebrow, her wrench tapping her leg. “So, what, we’re playing therapy with a haunted funhouse? Sounds like a blast.”

“Something like that,” Lydia said, her lips twitching—a faint, bitter smile. “Break the mirror, Ethan. See what it shows.”

Ethan nodded, the journal’s weight grounding him—his dad’s note: The signal’s in the cracks. He stepped toward the mirror, the hum spiking, and his reflection stared back—tired, stubborn, but steady. “Let’s get it over with,” he said, raising the key. “Sophie, cover me.”

“Always,” she said, wrench ready, her flashlight slashing the dark.

He slammed the key against the glass, and it shattered—not with a scream, but a roar, the shards exploding outward, the hum swelling into a deafening pulse. The world tilted, and Ethan stumbled, the hall dissolving around him. When his vision cleared, he stood alone—not in the Haven, but a memory: his childhood home, the living room dim, his parents’ voices faint through the walls.

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“Ethan?” His mom’s voice—soft, urgent—called from the kitchen, but it was wrong, stretched, like a tape played too slow. He turned, and she was there—pale, eyeless, her mouth gaping in a silent scream. His dad stood beside her, hollow-faced, wires spilling from his chest like veins, his voice a low drone: “You left us.”

Ethan’s chest seized, the key burning in his hand. “No,” he said, voice cracking. “I didn’t—I’m here—”

“You ran,” his mom whispered, her form flickering, shadows bleeding from her. “You let us go.” They lunged, tendrils clawing, and Ethan swung the key, its glow flaring, but they didn’t dissolve—they pressed closer, their screams merging with the hum, louder, angrier.

“Ethan!” Sophie’s voice cut through, faint but sharp, and he spun—her reflection shimmered in a shard behind him, wrench raised, her real voice breaking the illusion. “It’s not them—fight it!”

He gritted his teeth, the key pulsing, and turned back. His parents’ faces warped—his mom’s eyes hollowed further, his dad’s wires twisting into a grin—and he saw it: not them, but him, his fear reflected back, the guilt he’d buried since they’d vanished. “I didn’t leave you,” he said, voice raw. “I’m finding you.”

He slammed the key into the ground, the glow erupting, and the figures shrieked, dissolving into mist. The room shattered, the hall snapping back—mirrors cracked, shadows gone. Ethan staggered, chest heaving, and Sophie grabbed his arm, steadying him.

“You okay?” she asked, wrench still raised, her flashlight trembling.

“Yeah,” he lied, the key warm in his hand. Lydia stepped forward, her gaze softer now, almost pitying.

“You faced it,” she said, nodding at the broken mirror. “Your fear—the Haven’s hook. It’s weaker now.”

Ethan exhaled, pulling the locket out—the photo glowed faintly, his parents’ faces clearer, a third figure still blurred. “They’re closer,” he said, voice firm. “I heard them.”

“They’re part of it,” Lydia said, her ring glinting. “The signal—trapped in the lost. Every fear you break, they scream louder.”

“Then I’ll break them all,” Ethan said, pocketing the locket. A small object clattered from the mirror’s frame—a cracked watch, its hands frozen at midnight, the eye symbol etched into its face. He picked it up, the metal cool against his skin.

Sophie grinned, lowering her wrench. “Another bingo card. What’s it for?”

“Time,” Lydia said, her voice low. “The Haven’s counting. You’re running out.”

Ethan stared at the watch, the hum pulsing through the hall. “Then we move faster.” He turned to Lydia, jaw set. “You’re with us—where’s the next one?”

Lydia’s lips twitched again—that faint, reluctant smile. “The theater,” she said. “Where the audience waits.”

“Round seven,” Sophie said, hefting her wrench. “Let’s give ‘em a show.”

Ethan nodded, the watch heavy in his pocket, the signal’s scream calling him deeper. Fear hadn’t stopped him—not his, not yet—and he wasn’t letting it win.