Mira moved through the mansion's outer halls, her boots echoing against the stone.
The walls were thickening.
Not just physically—but spiritually.
They pulsed with layered enchantments, like veins of memory stitched into brick.
Lanterns flickered where there had been none.
The mansion was evolving.
Preparing.
She narrowed her eyes.
Something was coming.
Mrs. Hodgins stood at the edge of the pit, smiling.
Mira followed her down.
The air grew colder.
The light dimmed.
And there—curled in the center of the pit—was Egry.
She was barely recognizable.
Her eyes were sour, clouded with exhaustion.
No blood.
No voice.
Her hair had grown—just a centimeter more—but it draped over her face like a veil of defeat.
It was a pity play.
But Mira knew Egry wasn't done.
Mrs. Hodgins stepped forward.
Egry stirred.
Her body twitched.
Her eyes flickered.
Hodgins scoffed. "You should've listened to me."
Egry's eyes welled.
She couldn't speak.
But her tears said enough.
Hodgins crouched beside her.
"The moment everyone from the overworld steps into Forevermore," she whispered, "you'll die off."
Egry's breath hitched.
"A portal will evolve. And powerful entities—like me—will walk freely in the overworld."
A chill ran down Egry's spine.
She was the last tether.
And she was fading.
Egry rasped, barely audible. "But… you can't reach the Blair Witch origins…"
Mrs. Hodgins smiled.
"Oh, but I can."
She reached into her coat.
And pulled out the lamp.
It pulsed.
Dark purple smoke swirled.
And then—
Zahir emerged.
But he wasn't the same.
His eyes glowed red.
His vest shimmered with cursed embroidery.
His smile was sharp.
"So," he said, voice low and twisted, "what's next?"
To be continued…