Uncovering Truths
The air in Victor's apartment hung heavy, filled with the lingering stench of the creature's transformation. The room felt darker now, as if the absence of the thing that had taken Victor had left a void.
Lara sat on the edge of the couch, her hands gripping the tarnished key like a lifeline. Margot stood near the doorway, her arms crossed, watching her carefully.
"You know too much about all of this," Lara said, her voice sharp with equal parts fear and frustration. "Why? How do you know so much about the City, the reflections, the envoy? What are you not telling me?"
Margot's expression hardened. She let out a slow sigh and leaned against the wall. "You're right," she said finally. "I haven't told you everything. But I had my reasons."
Lara's gaze bore into her. "What reasons?"
Margot hesitated, her green eyes glinting in the dim light. "Because knowing the truth doesn't help you survive. If anything, it makes you a target. Like it did for me."
"What are you talking about?" Lara asked, her breath hitching.
Margot's jaw tightened. "I've been where you are, Lara. I noticed the cracks, the whispers, the shadows. I tried to figure it out, just like you're doing now. And when I got too close, the City came for me. I had to make a choice: fight it, or blend in."
"And you chose to blend in," Lara said, her voice dripping with accusation.
Margot nodded, her voice softer now. "It was the only way to stay alive. But blending in doesn't mean I've stopped fighting. I've been learning, watching, waiting for someone else to notice—someone who might be able to break the cycle."
"Break the cycle?" Lara repeated, her heart pounding.
Margot gestured toward the key in Lara's hand. "That key, the photograph—it's all connected. You're closer to the City's heart than anyone I've ever seen. If you want to end this, you'll need to keep going."
Lara stared at the key, the weight of Margot's words pressing down on her. "And if I don't?"
"Then you'll end up like Victor," Margot said bluntly.
Lara stood, her resolve hardening. "Then I need to know what happened to him—really happened. There might be something here that can help us."
Margot nodded, stepping aside to let Lara move through the apartment.
Victor's bookshelves were crammed with novels and journals, some stacked haphazardly, others meticulously aligned. A few mugs sat on the coffee table, one with a faint ring of dried coffee still inside. The ordinariness of it all made Lara's stomach churn.
She opened a drawer in the small desk by the window, rifling through papers and receipts. Amid the clutter, she found a small black notebook with Victor's handwriting scrawled across the cover.
Lara flipped through the notebook, her eyes scanning the neatly written entries.
March 12
Noticed the same man twice today. First on my way to work, then outside the building when I came home. He looked the same—same suit, same face—but he didn't acknowledge me. Just stared.
March 19
The lights flickered in the hallway again. I'm starting to think it's not just an electrical problem. It feels… wrong. Like something is watching me.
April 2
Lara mentioned feeling weird about the city. Should I tell her about what I've been noticing? Or would that make it worse?
April 8
The mirror in my bathroom isn't right. My reflection doesn't move when I do anymore. It's subtle, but I can feel it staring at me. Mocking me.
The entries became more erratic as the notebook continued. The handwriting grew shaky, the words less coherent.
April 15
It's in the apartment now. I hear it at night, moving through the walls. I can't tell if it's inside my head or if it's real. Maybe it's both.
April 20
If you're reading this, I'm sorry. I couldn't stop it. I couldn't stop myself. Don't let it take you too.
Lara set the notebook down, her hands trembling. "He knew it was happening," she whispered. "He knew he was changing."
Margot stepped closer, glancing at the notebook. "The reflections aren't just replacements—they're parasites. They infect you, twist you until there's nothing left of who you were."
Lara looked up at her, tears welling in her eyes. "Is there any way to stop it?"
Margot frowned, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Once the process starts, no. But you're not infected, Lara. Not yet."
Lara's gaze drifted back to the desk, where something shiny caught her eye. Beneath a stack of papers was a small, silver object—a key. Unlike the tarnished one Margot had given her, this key was polished and unblemished.
She picked it up, turning it over in her hand.
"Another key," Margot murmured, her eyes narrowing.
"Do you think it opens the same kind of door?" Lara asked.
"Only one way to find out," Margot replied.
Lara held both keys tightly in her hands—the tarnished one Margot had given her and the polished silver key she'd found in Victor's desk. They felt cold and heavy, their significance weighing on her mind like a storm cloud.
Margot leaned against the doorframe, watching her carefully. "You're starting to see how deep this goes, aren't you?"
Lara nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. "Do you recognize this one?" She held up the silver key.
Margot stepped closer, examining it under the dim light. "It's similar to the one I gave you, but… newer. It might lead to the same kind of door. Or it could be something else entirely."
"Something else like what?" Lara asked.
Margot shrugged, her enigmatic demeanor firmly in place. "It could be a door to another reflection, another tether. Or it could be a trap. The City doesn't like giving out easy answers."
Lara's stomach churned. "So, it could make things worse."
"Or it could get you closer to the truth," Margot said, her voice calm but edged with something like caution.
Before making her next move, Lara decided to scour Victor's apartment for anything else that might provide answers. If the silver key was a piece of the puzzle, there had to be more.
Margot stayed by the door, silent but vigilant, as Lara searched through drawers, cabinets, and shelves.
In the bedroom, she found a pile of papers stuffed under the mattress. Most of them were scribbled notes—half-formed thoughts, sketches of distorted faces, and fragments of sentences:
"The reflections are watching."
"The door moves—it's never in the same place."
"Don't trust the voices."
One note stood out. Written in bold, shaky letters, it read:
"Two keys. One leads forward. The other leads back."
Lara's breath caught. She glanced down at the keys in her hand, the tarnished and the silver, their contrasting appearances suddenly unnerving.
After another hour of fruitless searching, Lara felt the walls of the apartment closing in on her again. The air was too heavy, the shadows too deep.
"I need to get out of here," she muttered, slipping the keys into her pocket.
Margot raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. "Where are you going to go?"
"The City," Lara said simply. "If these keys open something out there, I need to find it. Staying here isn't helping."
Margot hesitated, her expression torn between skepticism and approval. "The City is dangerous, Lara. It'll notice you more now. The more you search, the harder it'll fight back."
Lara squared her shoulders, forcing confidence into her voice. "I don't have a choice."
Margot smirked faintly. "Good. At least you're not running scared anymore."
The two women stepped into the hallway, the flickering lights casting distorted shadows on the walls. As they descended the stairs, Lara's heart pounded in her chest, the uncertainty of the City's labyrinth pressing down on her.
Stepping out onto the streets, Lara felt the City's presence immediately. The air felt thick, almost electric, and the faint hum of unseen activity buzzed in her ears.
Margot walked beside her, her sharp gaze scanning the warped skyline. "The City's heart is restless tonight," she murmured.
"What does that mean?" Lara asked, glancing nervously at the buildings around them.
"It means it knows what we're doing," Margot replied.
The streets were eerily empty, save for the occasional faceless figure shuffling past. Their movements were robotic, their heads tilted unnaturally as though listening to something only they could hear. Lara kept her eyes forward, her hands clutching the keys in her pocket.
They passed an old convenience store with shattered windows, its interior dark and gutted. Beyond it, a narrow alley stretched into the shadows. Lara froze as she felt the keys in her pocket grow colder, the chill seeping into her skin.
"They're reacting to something," she said, pulling the keys out.
Margot tilted her head, her expression sharpening. "The silver one," she said, nodding toward it. "It's pointing you somewhere."
Lara looked down the alley. The darkness was suffocating, but the key pulsed faintly in her hand, guiding her forward.
Lara stepped cautiously into the alley, her breath fogging in the sudden chill. The air smelled of mildew and rust, and faint whispers seemed to echo from the shadows.
At the end of the alley, she found a door. It was small and unmarked, its metal surface scratched and dented. The silver key grew colder in her hand, the faint pulsing stronger now.
"This is it," she said, glancing back at Margot.
Margot stood a few feet behind her, her expression unreadable. "Are you sure you want to open it?"
Lara hesitated, her hand hovering over the lock. The note from Victor's apartment echoed in her mind: "Two keys. One leads forward. The other leads back."
"What if this one leads back?" she asked, her voice trembling.
"Then you'll learn something," Margot said simply. "Or you'll regret it. Either way, the only way out is through."
Lara's fingers tightened around the silver key, the cold seeping into her skin like frost. She glanced at Margot one last time, searching for reassurance, but Margot's expression remained unreadable.
"Whatever's on the other side," Margot said softly, "you can't unsee it. Be sure, Lara."
Lara swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her ears. "I can't stay in the dark. I have to know."
She slid the key into the lock. It fit perfectly, the metal clicking into place with a strange finality. The door resisted slightly as she turned the handle, as though whatever was on the other side didn't want to let her in—or didn't want to let her out.
With a deep breath, she pushed the door open.
The air changed instantly. It was colder, heavier, and carried a metallic tang that made her stomach churn. Beyond the door was a narrow hallway, its walls lined with warped, reflective surfaces. They weren't quite mirrors—more like fragments of broken glass, each one reflecting distorted versions of herself.
The reflections moved out of sync, their expressions twisting and flickering in ways her own face never would. Some smiled too widely, others scowled or wept. One reflection turned its head toward her, its black eyes locking onto hers.
"Don't look too long," Margot warned from behind her.
Lara tore her gaze away and stepped forward. The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, the floor beneath her feet soft and spongy like damp moss. Her footsteps made no sound.
The door slammed shut behind them, the echo reverberating through the passage like a warning.
At the end of the hallway, the space opened into a vast, circular room. The walls shimmered with shifting images—scenes from her life, but not as she remembered them.
She saw herself standing in her childhood home, her parents smiling at her from the kitchen table. But their faces were wrong, their eyes hollow and their smiles stiff. In another scene, she sat with Victor in a café, laughing over coffee, but the shadows behind him moved unnaturally.
"What is this?" Lara whispered, her voice trembling.
"The City's archive," Margot replied, her tone grim. "It doesn't just take people, Lara. It takes their memories, their essence. This is what's left of them."
Lara stepped closer to one of the walls, her fingers brushing against the shifting surface. The image rippled like water, and for a brief moment, she felt a pull—a sense of belonging, of wanting to step into the memory and disappear.
"Don't touch it," Margot snapped, pulling her back. "That's how it traps you."
The room's center held a single pedestal, and atop it rested a small, black journal bound in cracked leather. The silver key began to pulse in Lara's pocket, as though urging her forward.
"Go on," Margot said, her voice low. "This is what the key brought you to."
Lara approached the pedestal cautiously. The air around it felt alive, buzzing faintly with energy. She reached out and picked up the journal, the leather warm and pulsing beneath her fingers like a heartbeat.
The room darkened instantly, the images on the walls fading into shadow. A low, guttural whisper filled the air, speaking in a language Lara couldn't understand.
"Lara," Margot hissed. "We're not alone."
From the shadows, a figure began to emerge. It was the man from the park—or something wearing his shape. His face was blank and featureless now, his body elongated and flickering like a bad signal.
"You shouldn't be here," the figure said, its voice echoing unnaturally. "This isn't for you."
Lara clutched the journal tightly, her legs trembling. "What is this place? What are you?"
The figure stepped closer, its movements jerky and unnatural. "A reminder," it said. "That you are mine."
Margot stepped forward, her expression fierce. "Back off," she growled, pulling another vial of dark liquid from her pocket. "Or you'll regret it."
The figure tilted its head, its blank face somehow mocking. "You think that will save her?" it hissed. "You think you can fight this?"
The shadows around it began to writhe, reaching out like tendrils toward Lara and Margot.
"Run!" Margot shouted, throwing the vial at the figure.
The glass shattered against its chest, the liquid sizzling and smoking as it made contact. The figure let out a shriek of rage, its form flickering violently.
Lara didn't need to be told twice. She bolted toward the hallway, clutching the journal tightly against her chest. Margot followed close behind, her footsteps echoing against the distorted walls.
The reflections in the hallway came alive as they ran, their movements frantic and chaotic. Some pounded against the glass, their mouths open in silent screams. Others followed Lara with their black, soulless eyes, their faces twisted in grotesque parodies of her own.
When they reached the door, Lara fumbled with the silver key, her hands shaking. The whispers grew louder, the shadows closing in around them.
"Hurry!" Margot snapped, shoving Lara toward the lock.
The key turned, the door flying open just as the shadows lunged. Lara and Margot stumbled through, slamming the door shut behind them.
The sudden quiet of the City streets was deafening. Lara collapsed onto the pavement, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
Margot crouched beside her, her own breathing ragged. "Well," she said after a moment, "that was closer than I'd like."
Lara held up the journal, its leather cover still warm in her hands. "This… this is what the key led to," she said, her voice trembling.
Margot nodded, her expression grim. "Then let's hope it was worth it."
The streets were darker than they should have been. Though it was barely evening, the light had dimmed to an unnatural gray, and the buildings loomed taller than Lara remembered. A cold wind whispered through the empty avenues, carrying faint voices—laughing, weeping, and murmuring words that sounded like her name.
Lara and Margot moved quickly, their footsteps echoing unnaturally against the cracked pavement. The journal was heavy in Lara's hands, its presence radiating an eerie warmth that made her skin crawl. She didn't dare open it, not yet.
Margot walked beside her, her sharp green eyes darting from shadow to shadow. Her usual calm was replaced by a taut readiness, as though she expected an attack at any moment.
"You feel it, don't you?" Margot murmured, her voice low.
Lara nodded, clutching the journal tighter. "It's… following us. I can feel it."
Margot didn't respond, her jaw tightening as she picked up the pace.
The city felt alive, and not in the comforting, bustling way of ordinary life. The buildings seemed to breathe, their windows like unblinking eyes. The pavement beneath Lara's feet felt softer than it should, as if it might give way at any moment.
"We need to get back," Margot said, her voice tense. "This place isn't safe after dark."
"What's going to happen?" Lara asked, her voice trembling.
Margot hesitated. "The shadows get hungry at night. They'll come for us, and once they've started, they won't stop."
They turned a corner into an alleyway, hoping to take a shortcut back to the apartment building. The air grew colder, and the whispers grew louder, rising into a cacophony of unintelligible voices. Lara's breath came in shallow gasps, her chest tightening with fear.
"Keep moving," Margot urged, her tone sharp.
They didn't see it at first.
The alley stretched longer than it should have, the exit seeming impossibly far away. The shadows along the walls began to shift, detaching from the bricks and pooling on the ground.
Lara froze, her heart hammering in her chest. "Margot…"
Margot followed her gaze, her face paling. "Run."
The shadows moved, rising from the ground in grotesque forms. They were vaguely humanoid, but wrong in every way—too tall, their limbs elongated and jagged. Their faces were voids, featureless and endless, but Lara felt their gaze boring into her.
The first one lunged, its movements jerky and unnatural.
Lara screamed and stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the creature's claw-like hands. Margot grabbed her arm, pulling her forward. "Move, Lara!"
They ran.
The shadows gave chase, their distorted forms flickering in and out of existence as they moved. The sound of their pursuit was a terrible mix of wet slaps and metallic screeches, like nails on a chalkboard.
Lara's lungs burned as she sprinted, her grip on the journal tightening until her knuckles turned white. The alley seemed endless, the exit never getting closer.
"They're herding us!" Margot shouted.
"Toward what?" Lara screamed back.
A sharp pain shot through Lara's leg as she tripped, her knees scraping against the pavement. Blood seeped through her jeans, the sting making her eyes water.
One of the shadows loomed over her, its jagged hand stretching toward her face. Its touch was freezing, burning her skin like dry ice.
Margot appeared out of nowhere, smashing a glass vial against the creature's chest. The liquid hissed and sizzled, and the shadow let out an unearthly screech as it dissolved into the ground.
"Get up!" Margot yelled, pulling Lara to her feet.
They ran again, but the shadows were relentless. More of them appeared, spilling from the walls and the cracks in the pavement.
A sharp claw raked across Margot's arm, tearing through her jacket and leaving a deep gash. She hissed in pain but didn't stop, her movements growing more frantic.
Just when Lara thought they couldn't run any farther, they saw it—a door at the end of the alley. It was tall and black, its surface pulsing faintly like a heartbeat.
"That's not our building!" Lara shouted.
"It doesn't matter!" Margot yelled back. "It's our only chance!"
The shadows closed in, their forms twisting and stretching unnaturally. One of them reached for Lara, its hand grazing her shoulder. The icy touch sent a wave of nausea through her, and she stumbled again.
Margot turned, throwing her weight against the shadow and knocking it back. She grabbed Lara and practically dragged her toward the door.
The journal in Lara's hands pulsed violently, the heat searing her palms. She cried out in pain but didn't let go.
"Open it!" Margot screamed.
Lara fumbled with the tarnished key, her hands shaking uncontrollably. The shadows were right behind them, their guttural whispers turning into deafening roars.
The key slid into the lock, and the door swung open.
They stumbled through the doorway, collapsing onto a cold, hard surface. The door slammed shut behind them, silencing the roars of the shadows.
The room was pitch black, the air thick and stifling. Lara struggled to catch her breath, her body trembling from exhaustion and pain.
Margot groaned beside her, clutching her bleeding arm. "That was too close," she muttered.
Lara sat up, clutching the journal against her chest. Her hands were raw and blistered from the heat, and her leg throbbed painfully.
"Where are we?" she whispered.
Margot shook her head, her breathing ragged. "Not the City. But not safe either."
As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Lara saw faint outlines of shapes around them—large, hulking forms that seemed to shift and breathe.
A voice echoed through the void, low and cold:
"You shouldn't have come here."