According to her, Ryan brought her a water bottle after a few days I was taken. But apparanetly the Ryan she saw that day wasn't Ryan. He was a fake. And the water bottle? It had been draining her, slowly killing her from the inside.
Ryan grabbed his phone and called Cris. It rang. No answer.
Cris, meanwhile, hadn't checked her phone since leaving school. Her pockets were empty. She dug through her bag, panic growing.
"Oh no... I dropped it!"
She had—back when she fell into the first trap. Her phone was gone, and she hadn't even noticed.
As her bag hung open, Shawn spotted a burger.
"I packed it for the journey," Cris shrugged. "Didn't think Liam would come empty-handed."
"Two pieces are enough for us," Shawn grinned at Liam, who was panting, soaked in sweat.
"It's useless," Liam muttered, dropping the hammer, bracing on his knees. They'd been smashing walls for hours with no progress. There'd just be another wall popping out after the other. He wiped his brow and slumped.
Cris noticed Shawn's behavior toward Liam. She smiled, took his hand, nodding as if telling him to behave.
Shawn ran a thumb over the hammer's carvings.
"There's a devil dancing," he said.
"It's not a devil! It's a square figure with horns, probably a Viking! Arms raised, one leg bent—musical notes floated nearby." Liam responded, sitting by the wall.
"So what? Does it matter?" Shawn's face was flat.
"No! I think we all need rest!" She smiled and sat beside Liam. She patted on the ground beside her, prompting Shawn to join her.
"This power—or curse—taught me one thing," she said. "Life's short. You don't know when it ends. So forgive, while you still can." She squeezed their hands.
After a brief thought, Shawn nodded. "Got a knife? That burger's not gonna split itself."
Liam chuckled. "We try again tomorrow."
Then Shawn paused, squinting.
"Did that leaf just vanish into the wall?" Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Oh!" He gasped. "Wait... the riddle!" He closed his eyes, leaned into the wall—and fell on his back across the wall.
"Ouch! I think I found a passage!" He moaned.
"Wooho! Just let go and you'll see!" He was super excited.
They didn't have to try at all! They had to take it easy!
And so they pressed forward.
"How many stages again?" Shawn asked.
"Four. But we'll deal with the rest after sleep," Liam said.
They agreed to rest.
By morning, Cris groaned in pain.
"You okay?" Liam asked, crawling over.
"Feels like I got jumped," she winced, clutching her shoulder.
"Shawn!" Liam shook him awake.
Shawn groaned, stretched.
"My pouch. It's under your head," Liam said. He retrieved it, pulled out a flask, uncorked it, and handed it to Cris.
"One sip. No more."
She drank, then gasped.
"This is amazing! I feel brand new!"
Shawn yawned, barely awake.
"Can't we do something about him?" Cris asked, nodding at Shawn.
"Let's leave him," Liam smirked.
"What? No!" Shawn sat bolt upright.
Liam grinned. Cris laughed. They were becoming friends.
"The only way is through," Liam read from a note and lowered it. Behind it, he saw an open space with dirt floor and grass walls.
"We're not going back without Zinnia," Liam said. "Not now. Not ever."
The ground split open.
One blink—and they were sliding into separate tunnels.
The narrow chute left no room to move. A short drop, maybe three feet, ended the fall.
"You good?" Liam asked, brushing off dirt and helping Cris up.
"I'm fine," she nodded.
"I'm great, thanks for asking," Shawn muttered, standing and rubbing his head.
Then he looked around—and froze.
A cavern stretched above them, but beyond the rock canopy, a sky swirled with dark clouds. Ahead, stone steps led to a tall mirror blocking their path. He didn't move toward it. Something glittered beside the steps.
He knelt, eyes wide.
"Are these... jewels?"
"I'm a girl," Cris said, grabbing his wrist. "Trust me, they are nothing like jewels."
"Glass shards," Liam muttered, scanning the ground.
While Shawn stared, Cris had climbed a few steps. Screaming skulls lined the mirror's frame. She wiped beneath three at the top, revealing strange writing. She was so lost in its beauty that she didn't even realize they were calling her name.
"Cris!" they shouted.
She turned, confused—just as a blast of white light struck her back, hurling her into the wall.
"The Mirror of The Past!" Shawn looked back at the mirror, his eyes widening with amazement.
Shawn ran to her. "You okay?"
"Let's just leave," she said, forcing herself up, clutching her arm.
"You said Mirror of the Past," Liam said.
"Yeah," Shawn nodded. "Mr. Martin taught us about it. It shows your worst memory. Most don't survive. They break… and die."
Cris stared at the skulls.
"And every time someone dies, a new skull appears," Shawn added.
"There was writing beneath those skulls," Cris said. "But I don't recognize the language."
By the time they realized, Liam was already on top of the stairs "Mortem Arcessere Tere Respicere," Liam read.
"What does it mean?" Cris's brows narrowed.
"In simple words... we can't leave until we face our past. I mean *my* past," Liam said. "Further, it says *Turn back thrice and die!*."
Since they met him, it was the first time they saw fear in him.
"I'll do it. For my sister," he said. "I'll walk through fire."
Shawn and Cris stepped in, gripping his hands.
"You're not doing it alone," Shawn said.
"Buckle up," Liam muttered. "This ride's got more downs than ups." He didn't notice how tightly he held their hands.
"You're not here with me anymore," he noticed their reflection disappearing from the mirror. "I'm younger now. This shirt... my dad gave it to me on my tenth birthday. I begged for it for months."
In the reflection, young Liam tugged the shirt playfully.
"It's a bit loose, but I'll grow into it," he giggled.
A knock at the door occurred before it opened. His mom smiled.
"Your friends are here. Don't be late."
He rode off toward the treehouse.
It was their spot—his, Tim's, and John's.
Below the treehouse, Tim, ever the snack-lover, grinned.
"Why do you always pick daisies?"
"They're for my mom," Liam muttered.
Tim giggled behind his hand.
"You know what I like about John?" Liam said. "He doesn't judge."
Tim pouted.
"Fine! No more judging."
Liam laughed—until Tim's stomach growled.
"How are you always hungry?"
"Everything's ready!" John shouted from above.
They climbed up. Food spread across a blanket, candles on pastries.
"This is why I love you, John!" Tim said, diving in.
Later, as the sun sank, they climbed down. Liam stared at the fading light.
Then Tim groaned, collapsed.
"I'm too full," he whimpered.
John helped him up.
"Good thing I beat you to that last chip bag."
"I only had one!" Tim said.
"Okay… and a burger. And a pastry. And half a burger. And a juice box?"
Liam chuckled.
"I have to go. My parents are waiting."
"We should go too," John said. He reached for his open bag—and froze.
"My watch. It's gone."
He turned to Tim.
"Where is it?"
"Why ask me? Ask Liam!"
"Everyone knows he doesn't steal. Give me your bag!"
John lunged. Tim held tight.
"You think I'm a thief?" Tim shouted. Tension exploded.
"Stop fighting!" Liam begged. They didn't listen. Yelling, struggling, locked in anger.
Heat surged through Liam's body. His palms burned.
"Stop!" he screamed again, falling to his knees, hands hitting the dirt. His veins felt like they'd burst.
"Something's happening to me," he whispered, tears hitting the ground.
Then—silence.
"Guys?" he looked up.
And screamed.
Tim and John hung suspended in midair. Black vines skewered them—one through the throat, one through the stomach. Blood dripped.
Liam's scream echoed into the trees.
He did this.
Breath ragged, body trembling, he collapsed. Alone. Far from home. Too weak to even ride his bike.