The Fracture
The attic was cold.
Dust hung in the air like smoke. A single bulb swung from the ceiling, casting shadows in sharp, unnatural lines.
Sky was the first to speak. "This… this is where it started."
They stood in a circle, just like the children in the shard. The room hadn't changed. The mirror leaned in the corner—tall, cracked down the center. A locket sat open on the floor, pulsing faintly.
Lumen knelt beside it. "This is the moment," he said. "The fracture."
Jess walked slowly to the mirror. "Do you hear that?"
They all listened.
Voices. Not whispers. Screams. Hundreds of them. Twisting beneath the glass.
Eli backed away. "This isn't just a memory. It's alive."
Max clenched his fists. "Then let's kill it."
"No," Nori said. "We can't destroy it. Not yet. We have to understand it."
Sky stepped closer to the mirror.
And then—it happened.
The attic shifted.
The bulb flickered and burst.
Suddenly, they were children again.
Tiny hands. Smaller voices. Memories they didn't know they had came rushing in.
The six of them stood in a circle.
They were the original six.
Only this time, they remembered everything.
The ritual.
The game.
The dare.
"Say her name in the mirror."
They had summoned something.
Not Mary.
Not a ghost.
A door. A mind. A thing that needed them to open.
And they did.
Years ago.
A child's game turned fracture point.
The mirror split—and part of each of them stayed behind.
Trapped.
Living in reflections. In dreams. In fears.
They were yanked back into their present forms—older again, breathless.
The mirror howled.
Cracks spread from its center, spiderwebbing outward.
The boy in the chair appeared again, this time inside the glass.
"I told you," he whispered. "You already sat down."
Lumen stepped forward, eyes fierce. "We're taking it back."
Jess pulled out the locket.
Sky reached for the mirror.
Nori held Max's hand. Eli stood between them and the boy.
"We end this," Sky said.
He pushed.
The mirror shattered—into dust, into stars, into silence.
The attic vanished.
The dream collapsed.
Light consumed them all.
And then—
They woke.
Each of them, in their own beds. At the exact same moment.
No shards.
No whispers.
No red door.
Just the sound of their own breath.
And for the first time in weeks—no dream followed.
But outside each of their windows, in the reflection of the glass—
The boy sat.
Smiling.
Waiting.