The next day, the sky was overcast—low gray clouds rolling over the city like a warning.
Ava stood in front of the rusted fence again, her heart thudding in her chest. Elijah was beside her, holding bolt cutters he'd borrowed from his uncle's garage. The gate to the maintenance building hadn't been opened in years, but today… it felt like it was waiting for her.
"You sure about this?" Elijah asked, glancing at her.
She nodded. "She showed herself again in my dreams. I think she's trapped here. I need to know why."
He clipped the lock. The gate groaned open like a warning scream.
They stepped inside.
The building was cold and damp. Dust covered everything—broken desks, moldy chairs, forgotten tools. The air smelled like mildew and something else… something iron-sweet.
Blood.
Ava paused in the hallway, heart racing. The girl had been here. She could feel it. Her pain soaked the walls.
Then—a whisper.
"Turn back…"
She spun around.
But it wasn't the girl.
Ava staggered as the lights flickered—and suddenly, the building shifted. The walls warped, the shadows stretched, and everything became impossibly silent.
And then—
He appeared.
Jaxon Knight.
Dressed in the same suit he died in. His eyes sharp. Cold. Angry.
"I warned you," he said, voice calm but laced with venom. "But you're too stubborn to listen."
Ava's breath caught in her throat. "Get out of my way."
He smiled. "I can't. You made me this way, remember?"
Elijah stepped forward, but Jaxon didn't even glance at him. "You shouldn't be here, Ava. Some doors—once opened—don't close again."
She clenched her fists. "You're not scaring me anymore."
"Oh, sweetheart," he said, stepping closer. "I don't need to scare you. I just need to remind you."
Suddenly the building around them twisted again. The hallway melted into a night Ava recognized—the street where she shot him. Only this time, he wasn't armed. In this version, he begged. Pleaded. Elijah appeared in the vision too, collapsing to his knees over his father's body, sobbing.
"Stop it!" Ava shouted, tears stinging her eyes.
"It's your truth," Jaxon said. "You kill. You break. You ruin."
Elijah shook Ava by the shoulders. "Hey! Ava—snap out of it!"
She blinked—and the vision was gone. The hallway returned. Jaxon faded into the shadows, laughing softly.
"You'll see," his voice echoed. "You're not the savior. You're the curse."
Ava dropped to her knees, breathing hard.
Elijah held her close. "You okay?"
She nodded weakly. "He's getting stronger. He's trying to break me."
But her mother's words came back again.
"Don't let him steal your light."
And Ava knew—she couldn't let Jaxon stop her. Not now. Not when someone else needed saving.
Ava pushed herself up off the ground, wiping her face with her sleeve. Her breathing was shaky, but her eyes were clear now.
Elijah hovered near her, confused and tense. "Ava, what happened? You looked like you were… somewhere else."
She didn't know how to explain it. How do you describe the ghost of a man you killed reshaping your memories into nightmares?
"He was here," she said softly. "Jaxon."
Elijah stiffened. "What do you mean 'here'? I didn't see anything."
"I know. You wouldn't," Ava said. She clutched his arm. "He showed me something. Twisted the night he died. He made it look like I murdered an innocent man. And you… you were crying over him. Like I destroyed your world."
Elijah was quiet. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away. He just looked at her with those steady eyes of his and said, "That's not the truth. I know who my father really was. And I know you did what you had to do."
That grounded her. Gave her just enough strength to keep going.
They turned down a narrow hallway. The further they walked, the colder the air became.
They passed a long mirror that hung crookedly on the wall, its surface stained with years of dust and age.
But as Ava stepped past it—she froze.
The mirror didn't reflect her. Not completely. It reflected someone else behind her.
The girl.
Blood soaked down her side. Her eyes were wide, pleading.
Ava stepped closer.
Help me… please…
This time, Ava didn't flinch. "Tell me who you are," she whispered. "Tell me how I can help you."
The girl's image flickered, and then something behind her—a dark figure—rose up like a shadow swallowing light. The girl turned to scream.
Then everything shattered. The mirror cracked straight down the middle with a sharp snap!
Elijah jumped back. "What the hell?!"
Ava stared at the splintered glass, her own face fragmented. But what haunted her more was the image she saw just before the mirror broke.
Not the girl.
Not the shadow.
Jaxon.
He was in the reflection, smiling.
He'd followed her into this memory too.
"Elijah," she said slowly, "I think Jaxon is trying to trap the girl's spirit."
Elijah blinked. "Trap her? Why?"
"I don't know," she said. "But he's twisting everything. Warping the way I see ghosts. Maybe even making me think some can't be trusted. He doesn't want me to help them. He wants me to believe I'm the real danger."
Elijah stepped closer to the broken mirror. "Then we don't let him win. We keep going. We find this girl and figure out what happened to her."
Ava nodded, heart still pounding.
And then—a soft noise.
A creak. Like a door opening.
They turned in unison.
At the very end of the hallway, a storage room door slowly swung open on its own.
Ava and Elijah exchanged a look.
"Ready?" he asked.
"No," Ava admitted. "But let's go anyway."