[Ashe lies on the floor.
His hand is bleeding.
The typewriter's keys move on their own.]
The typewriter — once controlled by Ashe —
was now speaking by itself.
But its voice…
wasn't mechanical anymore.
It was his voice.
Not the real Ashe…
but the Reflection —
the duplicate inside the mirror.
The one that looked exactly like him,
but whose eyes had no soul.
[Inside the mirror, the Duplicate Ashe sits calmly at a typewriter.
But every time he presses a key —
blood spills from the real Ashe's hand.]
Ashe (groaning in pain):
"NO! I'm not the one writing…
Then how—"
[The Duplicate speaks from the mirror.
Emotionless. Still. Terrifying.]
Duplicate Ashe (calm, hollow voice):
"You're not worthy of writing anymore."
[The typewriter in the real room starts typing.
Each word it types causes more blood to leak from Ashe's body.]
Chik. Chik.
Chik chik chik.
> "He lied."
"He said he didn't hear it."
"He saw everything."
"He did nothing."
Ashe (broken, screaming):
"STOP!!!"
[At that moment — the mirror trembles.
Eyla's face appears again —
but this time, her eyes are pitch black.]
Eyla (distorted, broken voice):
"Ashe…
You kept writing…
But you never brought me to life."
[The Duplicate keeps typing.
And with every word, cuts appear on Ashe's skin —
as if the sentences are being carved into him.]
Real Ashe (tears falling, overwhelmed by confusion, guilt, rage):
"You were just my reflection!
A part of me!
How are you writing?!"
Duplicate Ashe (calmly, from inside the mirror):
"I am the part of you…
you never accepted.
I am your truth."
[The mirror CRACKS.
The reflection begins stepping out —
crossing into the real world.]
[Ashe crawls backward in fear, trembling.]
Real Ashe (whispering, shaken):
"I… I was supposed to be the one writing…
You were just my words."
Duplicate Ashe (smiling faintly):
"Then tell me…
how are you still alive?"
---
[Suddenly — the typewriter stops.]
Eyla's voice returns — soft, like a whisper from the soul's edge.
Eyla (final voice):
"When the writer runs from their truth…
the story begins writing them instead."
---
[A white page falls in front of Ashe.
There's only one line on it:]
> "You are now the page. Bleed well."
[The page sticks to Ashe's chest —
and with every thought he has…
words start appearing on it.]
[Ashe screams — in agony, in realization, in loss.]
---
[The walls of the room begin to write themselves.
Symbols. Words. Sentences he never said.
Memories he never faced.
Eyla disappears.]
[The reflection fully steps into reality —
and the real Ashe…
is no longer a writer…
He's the blank canvas.
The story now writes him.]
---
END OF CHAPTER 3