The door opened into a vast hall of mirrors. Their reflections stared back… but none were right.
Every surface warped their images—twisting, stretching, and multiplying them endlessly. Evelyn's reflection grinned with teeth she didn't have, eyes burning white-hot, whispering secrets she had buried deep. Sophie's reflection sobbed blood, crying accusations, mimicking her every guilty thought.
Alex's image loomed impossibly tall, muscles bulging, skin rotting, while Leo's reflection fractured into dozens of copies, each one screaming his worst fears.
The carriage whispered:"Face yourself… or be lost within forever."
Step by step, the floor shifted beneath them, reflecting horrors instead of light. Shadows emerged from the mirrors, clawing, whispering, mocking. Each survivor's worst fear and darkest desire manifested as a tangible threat.
Sophie froze as a reflection stepped out of the mirror, a perfect double. "You… don't deserve to survive," it hissed, grabbing her shoulder. Pain exploded—not on her body, but in her mind, memories twisting, guilt burning hotter than fire.
Alex swung at his reflection, fists passing through glass. The image laughed, then leapt at him again, forcing visions of his own failures and forbidden thoughts to consume him.
Evelyn raised her lantern. Light shimmered across the mirrors, cracking some, reflecting others infinitely. She realized the mirrors were alive, feeding on their self-doubt and fear.
The Conductor appeared, floating above the mirrored floor, eyes molten white. "The mind is fragile, human. Even flesh can heal. But your perception? That can be broken forever. Do you still wish to survive?"
Step by agonizing step, Evelyn led the group forward. Every shattered mirror whispered fragments of secrets, every reflection tried to ensnare them, every step threatened their sanity.
Finally, at the far end, a sigil glowed faintly. It pulsed with warmth, unlike the cold mirrors. They lunged forward, shattering the nearest reflective horrors with the lantern's light.
The Conductor's laugh echoed, sinister and amused:"Survive this… and the next nightmare will consume your soul entirely."
They staggered through the sigil, leaving the hall of mirrors behind, hearts pounding, minds frayed—but still alive, for now.
Beyond the next door, the air smelled of rot and iron… and a low, hungry whisper promised the next horror was worse.