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Maya steps through the heavy doors, eyes narrowed against the brightness of the morning that greets her. The light, soft and golden, slides over the weathered facade, caressing the stones as if trying to erase the night they have just endured. She stops for a moment, surprised. How can a morning be so beautiful, so peaceful?
The contrast is all the more striking because the outside swarms with police officers, technicians, and emergency responders. Blue lights still flash atop vehicles parked in a chaotic line. Paramedics rush to treat the mildly injured, offering blankets, calming words, and asking questions that sound mechanical. Maya spots a corner slightly away from the turmoil and takes a deep breath. For now, there are no journalists in sight, though that won’t last long.
She thinks back to the interrogations inside. Inspectors, colleagues of Jenks, had pressed for quick explanations. Thankfully, she, Jenks, Harriet, Camille, Simon, and even Jimmy had time to coordinate. They had rehearsed their version like a stage play: a story of a deviant cult, psychological manipulation, and violent rituals. No mention of specters. No word of the entity. And certainly nothing about broken pacts or cursed memories. The truth had been carefully pruned. It’s better that way.
In the parking lot, she spots Jenks sitting on the edge of a stretcher, a blanket around his shoulders. A paramedic speaks to him gently while taking his blood pressure, as Harriet kneels beside him, holding his hand with visible tenderness. Maya gives a fond smile. Those two have certainly earned themselves a different kind of story.
A figure suddenly bursts into her field of view and hugs her at full speed. Camille. Maya laughs softly as she embraces her, squeezing tight.
“I never want to hear about ghosts again,” the young Frenchwoman murmurs, visibly emotional.
Simon joins them soon after. His gaze is tired, but a new calm has settled into his features, as though something inside him has finally relaxed. They stay together for a moment, in silence, until Maya asks:
“And now? What will you do?”
“Go back to France,” Camille answers without hesitation. “I want to see my family again and… I need to figure out what I want to do with my life. But this time, I want to really live it… not just endure it. Life’s too short to waste.”
Simon nods.
“Me too. I’m going home. To my village. There’s someone I need to see again… someone I’ve needed to talk to for a long time.”
He looks nervous, playing with his pendant. Maya places a comforting hand on his shoulder.
“You’ll manage. You’ll see—this is the right moment.”
They’re interrupted by shouting. All eyes turn to the manor, where officers drag a screaming Ashford toward an unmarked car. She thrashes wildly, eyes mad.
“She’s lying! She’s lying!” she yells, pointing at Maya. “Ask her! I’m not crazy, do you hear me? They’re ghosts! Spirits!”
The officers hold her firmly, unmoved. Of course, Ryan has vanished—something Jenks hadn’t found surprising at all. Bitterly, all evidence and testimony will point to her. She’s the perfect scapegoat for Phoenix.
Camille shakes her head, arms crossed.
“I don’t think I hit her hard enough.”
“At least she’ll be locked up for a while… if she ever gets out,” Simon says with a bitter smile.
Maya stays quiet, eyes fixed on the scene, Annie’s memory vivid in her mind.
“It won’t change anything for the victims… But it’s a start.”
They chat a bit longer, then she hugs them both tightly, eyes slightly glistening. She walks away slowly, leaving behind the flashing lights, Ashford’s shrieks, the scarred facade of the manor, and the heavy memories it shelters.
She walks slowly toward the lake, her steps barely crunching over the frozen grass, the morning chill biting at her cheeks. In the distance, she spots a silhouette sitting on a stone bench—the very one where she had once spoken with Elias, an eternity ago. Jimmy is there, his arm in a sling, back slightly hunched, eyes lost in the frozen expanse of the lake.
She approaches silently.
“I’m sorry, James. It seems I forgot to drop off my key in the box last time.”
He freezes, surprised, then a small laugh escapes him. Light, incredulous, almost relieved.
“May I sit?”
He nods awkwardly, caught off guard, scooting to make space, surprised she wants to share this moment with him. Maya sits without a word, their shoulders close, their eyes fixed on the frozen mirror of the lake. A long silence settles—peaceful.
Eventually, she’s the one to break it.
“How do you feel?”
“I… I’m not sure how to say,” he replies slowly. “Strangely… at peace? It’s weird, I don’t remember feeling this calm. I still get the sense that he’ll pop up, that he’s hiding somewhere, ready to pounce. But… I think he’s gone. I don’t hear him anymore. I don’t feel him.”
He finally turns to look at her. A dull anxiety still lingers in his eyes.
“Is it really over?”
Maya offers him a gentle, reassuring smile.
“Hugo is gone. You did what no Hall ever managed to do.”
“I wasn’t alone.”
He looks ahead again, jaw tight, voice shaking.
“Thank you, Maya. You, more than anyone, had every reason to leave me behind. To walk away…”
She answers only by taking his hand—the one he can still move—and gently squeezing it.
They hear footsteps behind them. Irregular, dragging. Jenks. He walks with difficulty, his face still marked, shirt stained, but he’s on his feet.
“Of course, Ryan and his men vanished without a trace,” he says with a grimace. “I keep trying to explain it to my superior, but without proof, it’ll stay the Ashford case. She’ll take the fall for everything he did here. Ryan made sure to leave nothing behind.”
“He’ll slip up,” Maya replies, resolute. “He has goals, but they’re guided by the wrong intentions. Eventually, he’ll cross someone smarter than him.”
“Yeah, but now he has the entity,” Jimmy murmurs, his face hardening with concern. “And with her…”
“I know,” Jenks agrees. “But we’re all still here. That’s already something.”
Maya casts a playful glance between the two men, amused by their resignation.
“Honestly… such little faith! You really think I let him take the entity?”
Jimmy and Jenks exchange a confused look.
“But… the mirror?”
Maya reaches into the inside pocket of her coat and pulls out an Aranmula mirror. Even without looking directly at it, she feels the strange cold radiating from it—a nearly living weight in her palm. She instinctively averts her gaze. Jimmy shudders at the sight. Even Jenks seems uncomfortable.
“You had two with you,” he breathes.
“And our dear Hugo… is here. There was no way I was letting Ryan leave with him.”
“Clever girl!” Jenks lets out a short laugh, clearly impressed with Maya’s cleverness before his face turns serious again. “And now? What do you plan to do with it?”
Maya turns to Jimmy. She holds out the mirror.
“It’s not my decision to make.”
He looks at her, stunned.
“It’s still your legacy, James. You get to decide how this story ends.”
Jimmy stares at the mirror Maya offers him, tension etched into every line of his face. His hand trembles slightly as he takes the object. Maya watches silently, seeing the inner struggle he’s still fighting.
He holds the mirror for a long moment, slowly turning it in the morning light, as if making sure it’s real. Then, gradually, he stands, gripping it tightly, and walks toward the frozen lake shore. Maya and Jenks follow him with their eyes.
Standing at the water’s edge, Jimmy faces the icy expanse. The cold wind gently lifts the hem of his coat, and in the near-perfect silence, his voice rises, barely audible:
“I’m in charge,” he whispers, bringing the mirror to his lips. “Not you. I’m in charge.”
Then, in a decisive motion, he lifts his good arm and hurls the mirror with all his strength toward the lake’s center. The object arcs sharply through the air before striking the thinnest patch of ice. It disappears beneath the water in a splash of frozen spray.
Maya and Jenks join him in silence. The inspector gently pats Jimmy’s shoulder with a quiet mixture of admiration and respect.
“What will you do now? Once your name is cleared, you’ll officially be a very wealthy Hall. Have you thought about what you’ll do with all that?”
Jimmy keeps his eyes on the slowly fading ripples across the lake.
“I’ll sell the manor. It’s time to turn the page. Let the past go. As for me… I think I’ll ask to be admitted somewhere. Voluntarily. I want to make sure he’s really gone. And then… I have to learn what it means to just be me, without him.”
Maya gives him a gentle, encouraging smile. There’s no pity, no awkwardness, only a sincere recognition of his strength.
“But after that…” Jimmy continues, as if improvising out loud. “I don’t know. Maybe travel. Go back to the temple in India, the one where it all began. Apologize, if I can. Look for answers. Make sure this can never happen again.”
Jenks nods slowly.
“That’s a good idea…”
Jimmy then turns timidly to Maya, looking hesitant, almost childlike.
“I was thinking… maybe you could come?” His gaze searches hers. “You probably have questions too. About your gift… Maybe there are people there who can help you understand.”
Surprised, Maya blinks. Then she smiles. It’s not a promise, but it’s close.
“Maybe. I still have things to take care of here. But later… yes. I think I’d like that.”
Jimmy nods with a small smile, clearly relieved and pleased with his own boldness. Jenks watches them both for a moment from a distance, then steps forward again. He pulls a small card from his inner pocket and hands it to Maya.
“When you’re done with your adventure… give me a call. I don’t know if you’ve thought about it, but you’d make an excellent inspector, Maya. And believe me, I’ve seen a lot of recruits. I’m getting old, and people like you are rare. Just… think about it, okay?”
Maya takes the card, moved, then hugs him.
“I promise. Thank you for everything, Fred.”
He returns the embrace, briefly but sincerely, his hand on her back, throat tight.
“You’re welcome… partner.”
He walks away a few steps, then turns back with a nearly mischievous smile.
“Well then. If you’ll excuse me… I’ve got a certain Harriet to propose to.”
And he walks off with a lighter step than ever.
Maya’s breath turns to white plumes in the frozen morning air, each exhale drawing a fleeting cloud before vanishing into the cemetery’s stillness. Frost covers the gravestones in a shimmering veil, and the low winter sun makes the frosted bushes sparkle.
Standing in front of Annie’s headstone, her eyes fixed on the carved letters, she lets a faint smile escape her lips.
“It was a good idea to suggest this,” murmurs Hannah beside her, hands buried deep in her coat pockets. She gazes at the grave with a mixture of emotion and relief. “We should have done it sooner.”
Maya nods slowly, her eyes still on the name.
“Maybe we weren’t ready for it before.”
“Maybe…” Hannah replies softly. “But we still made her wait too long.”
Maya takes a deep breath, letting the icy air fill her lungs. Just weeks ago, she emerged from the nightmare of Blackmere Estate. Officially, the case concluded with the discovery of a deviant therapeutic cult responsible for numerous tragic deaths. That’s the story she gave her loved ones—a version one can hear without losing their grip on reality. A story with no specters or mirrors.
And in return, she accepted a share of darkness. She too has learned to dance in the dark.
“You really know how to attract trouble,” Hannah says with a nervous laugh, a clumsy attempt to break the lingering tension.
“Last time, you’re the ones who left me behind,” Maya replies with a half-smile.
“We paid for your room!” Hannah protests, then sighs, ashamed. “Okay, fine. We were bitches. We panicked. Night was falling, and we were scared we wouldn’t find anywhere to sleep. The truth? You were the only one who never feared the dark. And you know what? We learned our lesson: never leave without our Maya.”
Their shoulders draw close in a simple, familiar hug, full of warmth in the biting air. Then, from the corner of her eye, Maya notices movement at the cemetery entrance. Familiar figures. Other young women approach, slowly, hesitantly—but they are here. The ones who were at the Sea View. The ones who had fled, frightened, broken.
“And never again without the others, either…”
Hannah turns, stunned, then recognizes the faces. Her hand flies to her mouth. Tears spring up, hot and sudden. She looks at Maya, overwhelmed.
“For Annie,” Maya simply says, her voice calm and gentle.
Hannah needs no more words. She runs to them, arms wide open. They fall into a chaotic embrace—a tangle of laughter and tears, of painful yet necessary reunions. There are pardons in their eyes, explanations in their silences. There is sorrow, of course, but also a new peace. Life, in all its fragility and intensity.
Maya doesn’t join them right away. She lingers near Annie’s grave. And there, just a little farther away, at the edge of the visible world, she sees her.
Annie’s silhouette. Blurry but present. Her soft smile, unmistakable. Just a presence, light as breath. A gaze full of tenderness. A silent permission.
Maya smiles in return, her eyes shining. She understands. She can move on too. That was the meaning of her gift as well. Not just to survive at dead of night, but to help others find the dawn.
So she turns away, her steps leading her gently toward the laughter, the tears, and toward life.
And all is well.
“Your visions will become clear only when you can look into your own heart.
Who looks outside, dreams;
Who looks inside, awakes.”
C.G. Jung
“That was a good idea…”
“When will you finally admit that all my ideas are good?”
The shared laughter that follows floats in the warm air of a summer afternoon. Sitting by the edge of a shimmering lake, brother and sister enjoy their annual retreat. The sun glitters on the water’s surface, dragonflies dance among the tall grass, and a light breeze stirs the leaves around them.
She is settled in a folding chair, a manuscript on her lap, red pen in hand, mercilessly slashing through faulty paragraphs. He, barefoot in the water, handles his fishing rod with a laid-back air, adjusting the line with mock concentration.
This year, he chose the place: a restored old manor now turned into a charming hotel. A peaceful setting, almost timeless—and most importantly: a perfect lake for fishing.
“Are you going to put that manuscript down? We’re supposed to be on vacation!” he grumbles.
“And we’re supposed to send it to the publisher next week,” she replies without looking up.
“Perfect. You’ll edit it next week. Right now, we’re supposed to think about nothing.”
“You said yourself you really hoped this book would be the one…”
“It will be. I’d even make a pact with the devil for that. But one thing at a time.”
She gives him a teasing look.
“You’ll be late to your own funeral.”
“Perfect. I want a Viking funeral anyway. Just throw me in a burning longboat, bow and arrow, and… Oh, oh, oh! I’ve got a bite!”
He pulls with exaggerated enthusiasm, struggling for a few seconds against an unseen resistance… only to haul in a clump of dark, dripping algae.
“Congratulations. A memorable catch,” his sister quips, one eyebrow raised.
He doesn’t answer right away. Something shines within the algae. He frowns, leans in, and pulls out a small metallic object: an old, round mirror, rimmed with a thin band of time-worn copper.
“Well now… What were you doing there?”
“Maybe it’s like a genie lamp,” she jokes. “Rub it and make a wish.”
He chuckles softly, but his gaze locks on the mirror. He turns it over, tilts it, examines it from every angle. Then he looks at his reflection. And freezes.
“I think I’m going back in… The sun’s getting to me. I thought… I had a hallucination.”
She lowers her manuscript, intrigued.
“Sorry, what?”
He hesitates, then says:
“I could have sworn my reflection… was old. Wrinkled. Dim.”
“I keep telling you, you don’t drink enough. You have no idea how fast dehydration hits. Come on, let’s go back. You’re going to help me edit—it’ll clear your head.”
He doesn’t move right away. He holds the mirror in his hand, eyes locked on its dull surface. A strange glint passes through his eyes—part doubt, part unease… and part fascination.
And his reflection blinks… just a fraction of a second too late.
A pact with the devil, huh?