Alexa:
Alexa awoke to a rhythmic pounding deep within her soul. It wasnât a sound, not exactlyâit was something more primal, like another heartbeat echoing alongside her own. A dull ache pulsed through her limbs as she pushed herself up from the floor, ice-cold beneath her fingers.
Propped up on her hands and knees, she opened her eyes and found herself staring at her own warped reflection. The image wavered, distorted, shifting with an unnatural fluidity. She lifted her head and took in her surroundings.
Mirrors.
They were everywhereâwhole and shattered, smooth and fractured, bright and dark. It was as if the walls, the ceiling, and even the floor had been consumed by a crystalline growth, spreading like veins of salt through a forgotten cavern.
Peter.
The thought struck her like a jolt of electricity. She turned sharply, and the mirrors turned with her, a hundred reflections shifting in unison. But the momentary spike of fear dissolved as quickly as it had come when she saw himâPeter, lying on the glass just behind her.
She grabbed his shoulders and shook him. "Peter, please wake up." She leaned in closer, her voice trembling. "Peter, Peter! Iâm sorry⦠you were right."
"Of course, I was right," Peter muttered, rolling onto his back and slowly opening his eyes. He winced, pressing a hand to his aching head. "Lex⦠I think that damn mirror exploded. What the hell just happened?"
Alexa let out a breath she hadnât realized she was holding, relief washing over her as she saw he was okay. She sat beside him, wrapping her arms around her knees.
"Do you hear that⦠that thudding?" she asked as Peter groaned, sitting up beside her.
"Itâs less hearing, more⦠feeling." He exhaled sharply, running a hand over his ribs, testing for injuries. "At least, I think so," he added as Alexa pressed a palm against her own chest, reassuring herself that only her heart was beating there.
"Itâs this house," she murmured, glancing around at the warped reflections surrounding them. "We need to get out of here. Now. We shouldnât be here." She got to her feet, offering Peter her hand.
"You think?" Peter said dryly.
"There used to be windows here, and light from outside⦠now everything is covered in this mirror-like crystal. How can we even see anything, Peter?"
"Looks like the mirrors themselves hold the light. Look." Peter pointed toward a mirror near the hallway exit. A ripple of silver light rolled behind one of their reflections, spilling across the entire wall like a wave.
"Youâre right." Alexa scanned the room, and just then, she felt another deep, rhythmic thud in her soul. A moment later, the light surged through the mirrors again. Another pulse. Another wave.
"Peter, the light spreads right after that strange second heartbeat." She turned to him as he followed the flow of light across the mirrored walls. "Lookâit pulses, and then the light moves, flowing outward across all the walls. Then another pulse, another wave. It just keeps happening⦠every few seconds."
"Letâs keep moving." Peter said.
Every step Alexa and Peter took echoed strangely, bouncing off the shattered mirrors that had replaced the wooden walls, the old wallpaper, the broken furniture. The house they had entered was no longer hereâonly its reflection remained, fragmented and endless.
Alexa's boots crunched over jagged glass. Peter walked beside her, his movements cautious, restrained. His usual confidenceâhis ease in motionâhad been replaced by tension, his muscles tight, his breath shallow.
They retraced their steps through the warped corridorsâthough "corridor" no longer felt like the right word. The walls, if they could even be called that, rippled and fractured like the surface of a disturbed lake, reflecting and refracting light in ways that made it impossible to tell where one space ended and another began. It was as if they were walking through a prism, each step bending reality around them, stretching and twisting the very air. The ground beneath their feet shimmered like cracked obsidian, and every sound they madeâevery breath, every cautious footstepâseemed to echo in strange, distorted tones, as if the house itself were whispering their presence back to them.
Alexa turned her head, catching movement in the periphery of her vision. A reflectionâbut not quite hers. She froze. The girl in the glass moved a fraction of a second too late, like a delayed signal in a faulty screen. Hazel eyes met hazel eyes, but there was something wrong. A flicker of something unfamiliar, something watching her just as intently as she watched it. The face was hers, the features identical, yet⦠hollow, as if a part of her had been peeled away and replaced with something else. A cold shiver crawled down her spine.
"Lex, keep moving," Peter's voice cut through the suffocating silence, low and tense. He didnât glance at the reflections. Maybe he had seen something, or maybe he was forcing himself not to.
Alexa swallowed hard and tore her gaze away, but the image lingered in her mindâher own face, staring back at her, just a second too late.
Peter must have noticed too. "Okay, yeah. This is officially messed up," he muttered. He reached out to one of the mirrors, hesitated, then pulled back. "We need to get out of here. Fast."
They moved forward, their footsteps hesitant and heavy, as the space around them seemed to warp with every step. Their reflections shattered and reformed with eerie precision, each movement fracturing the mirrors into a thousand jagged shards that glistened in the dim light. It was as if they were walking through a living canvas of broken glassâeach footfall sending the reflections into a violent dance of splintering images. The hallway, once familiar, had transformed into a nightmarish tunnel, its walls made of sharp, irregular pieces of glass that seemed to pulse with a life of their own.
The sharp edges of the glass caught the strange, silvery light that slithered through the cracks, casting long, distorted shadows that twisted like serpents along the floor. The light itself was soft, almost liquid, flowing through the shattered panes like a slow, rhythmic heartbeat. It flickered and pulsed in time with something deep within the houseâan unseen presence, or perhaps the very pulse of the house itself. The air felt charged, thick with a tension that hummed just beneath the surface. Each breath they took felt more like an intrusion, as though even the act of moving through this place was disturbing its fragile balance.
The door. It should be right ahead. Alexa could see it, but something was wrongâit wasnât wood anymore. It was a frame of twisted metal, its surface a swirling, liquid-like mirror. No handle. No hinges. Just a reflection of the room behind them, but distorted, warped, wrong.
Peter reached it first. "This was the way out, right?" His voice was tight.
"Yeah," Alexa whispered.
"The light⦠it's coming from here," Peter murmured, stepping closer to the eerie doorway.
Before Alexa could react, the mirrored surface partedâno shattering, no crackingâjust a silent, fluid motion as it melted away into the frame. An empty void remained where the door had been.
"Lex, we're leaving. Now," Peter said firmly. He grabbed her hand, his grip tight and urgent, pulling her forward before she could even protest.
The moment they stepped through, the sensation changedâlike stepping through a thin sheet of water, yet feeling no wetness. The pulse of the strange heartbeat spreading light all around them.
They both came to an abrupt halt.
Alexa felt her breath catch in her throat as she looked down at the ground beneath her feet. It was grassâor what should have been grassâbut each blade shimmered like fractured glass, bending light in impossible ways. She turned, her gaze lifting to the trees, their leaves glinting silver, each one a perfect, paper-thin mirror reflecting the strange world around them.
And then she looked up.
The sky stretched above them, an endless ocean of black velvet, untouched by the dull haze of city lights. It was vast, infiniteâa cosmic abyss that seemed to swallow all sound, all sense of familiarity. Yet, it was anything but empty. It pulsed with life, teeming with stars so numerous they blurred together into shimmering rivers of silver and gold. They burned with a clarity she had never seen before, as if each one had been set alight just for this moment.
And then there were the moons. Not one, not two, but a dozen or more, suspended in the heavens like celestial sentinels. Each was locked in its own frozen momentâone barely a sliver, another full and round, others caught in between, as though time itself had fractured across the sky. They bathed the landscape in shifting hues of pale blue and argent white, their glow reflecting off the mirrored grass, the crystalline leaves, the strange world that now surrounded them.
Alexa exhaled slowly, barely a whisper.
"I⦠don't think we're home anymore."
"For fuck's sake," Peter muttered, pulling his phone from his pocket. His fingers moved quickly, checking for any sign of connection. "No signal. Check yours."
Alexa was still staring at the alien sky, her mind struggling to process the sight, but at his words, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. The screen glowed in the dim light, but just like Peterâsâno service.
"Nothing," she said quietly.
Peter exhaled sharply, running a hand through his already messy hair. "It's past six. We were unconscious for a few minutes at most..."
"Or a few days," he finished grimly.
"No," Alexa shook her head, turning the phone toward him. "It's still October twelfth."
Peter stared at the screen, his brows furrowing. "Then what the hell happened to us?"
They couldnât afford to linger in their thoughts for long. The stillness was shattered by a soundâan eerie, familiar soundâthat echoed in the depths of their minds. The same unnerving noise they had heard in the ordinary version of the house, before they had dashed toward the mirror. It was a soft scraping, like nails dragging across metal, or glassâdelicate taps that morphed into an inhuman, guttural roar. Something, or someone, was drawing closer, the sound rippling through the air, growing louder with each passing second.
Instinctively, they turned toward the house. But the moment their eyes fell upon it, their breath caught in their throats, and they stumbled backward, a few paces, a few heartbeats of distance between them and the monstrosity now standing where the house once had. It was no longer a humble cottage, no longer a sanctuary of memories. In its place rose a towering spire, an impossible structure of jagged, broken mirrors. The reflections of the night sky, the moons, and the stars twisted and writhed across the surfaces, each fragment of glass seeming to shimmer and shift like the fragments of a dream that could not be remembered.
Where windows should have been, strange crystalline passages rippled like liquid light, each one pulsing with a soft, silver glow, as though the house itself were aliveâits heart beating in time with their own. These openings were not windows, but portals, glimpses into a world far beyond their comprehension, as if the house had torn through the fabric of reality itself. The walls seemed to breathe, to move, as if caught in the throes of some ancient, unspoken force.
At the very apex of the twisted spire, where a roof should have been, hung a crystalâimmense and otherworldly, the size of a human, suspended weightlessly in the air. It glimmered with an ethereal light, connected to the tower by threads of broken mirrors that wove around it like the delicate strands of a spiderâs web. The crystal pulsated with a strange, silent rhythm, as if it were the very soul of the house itself, its beating heart suspended between two worlds, tethered to the crumbling tower like a prisoner to a forgotten fate.
The whole structure hummed with an unearthly energy, a low, vibrating presence that seemed to fill the space around them. It was a place of waiting, of watching, as though the house had been waiting for them all along, for this moment, for their intrusion into its dark, fractured world.
And then they saw it. The thing that had been making those strange sounds. It descended slowly from the tower, its movement delicate yet unnerving, as if it were drawn by an invisible thread, inching toward them. Its glassy, spider-like legs tapped lightly against the walls of the massive structure, each step echoing like a quiet, chilling heartbeat. The sound was soft, but the weight of it pressed down on them, as if the very air around them had thickened with the weight of its presence.
The creature, a grotesque vision of shattered beauty, turned its countless eyes toward them. Its body was an intricate mosaic of fractured glass, sharp and jagged, each fragment catching the silver light that pulsed from the mirrors around them. Its headâcracked and twisted, like something shattered but not entirely brokenâseemed to shimmer in a nightmarish dance of fractured reflections. And on that head, dozens of eyes gleamed, their surfaces glowing with an unsettling, silvery light, as if they were each little windows to some dark, unknowable world.
The creatureâs gaze held them captive, its eyes gleaming with hunger far beyond their understanding. The broken, fragmented face of the spider-like being seemed to smile, though its smile was one of malice, cold and ancient. It was as if it had been waiting, watching, for them to arrive, drawn by their presence. The hairs on the back of their necks stood on end, and an overwhelming sense of dread filled the space between them and the creature, a sensation as sharp as the glass that made up its body.
Alexa stood frozen, as if bound by some invisible force. She seemed deaf to Peterâs frantic shouts, urging her to run as far away as possible. Her gaze was fixed, transfixed by the endless stream of glass spiders emerging from the window-like portals, crawling up the walls of the tower, their sharp, glimmering legs scraping against the mirrors. Each one moved closer, and Alexaâs body remained still, as if the world around her had dissolved into a nightmare she couldnât escape.
Then, a joltâa sharp tug on her bodyâand her vision was suddenly yanked from the sight of the creatures. Peter had grabbed her, flinging her over his shoulder in one swift motion, his strong legs propelling them forward in a burst of desperate speed. They raced through the mirror-laden garden, the luster of the glass trees blurring as they moved faster and faster. The garden, once familiar, now seemed to stretch endlessly before them, a distorted labyrinth of mirrors that reflected their every frantic step.
The pounding of their footsteps echoed in the endless expanse of reflective foliage until they reached the high gate, too tall to cross. Peter set her down, panting heavily, his breath coming in jagged bursts. He bent forward, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath, the weight of the chase pressing down on him.
Alexa quickly reached for the gate, her fingers trembling as she gripped the cold metal. She twisted the handle, but it didnât budgeânot even the slightest movement. Panic surged within her chest, her heart thundering in her ears.
âPeter, we have a problem!â she cried, her voice cracking with fear.
âFuck, fuck, fuck!â Peter cursed under his breath, slamming his fists into the gate, his eyes flashing with desperation as he glared at his own reflection in the glass. The mocking image of himself seemed to sneer back at him, adding fuel to his rage. But the gate remained stubbornly unyielding, and the tap-tap-tapping of the spiders grew louder, closer.
Alexa stood motionless, watching as Peterâs anger began to spiral. His fists hit the gate harder now, each blow sending a sharp crack through the stillness. His fury built like a wave rising higher and higher, the tension almost unbearable. Then, with one final, raw shout of frustration, Peter kicked the gate with all his strength. The metal shattered like glass, the shards exploding outward in a cascade of sparkling fragments.
Peter cried out in pain as several of the shards embedded themselves in his leg. Alexaâs heart lurched as she saw the blood welling up around the deep cuts. Without hesitation, she rushed to his side.
âCome on, Peter, weâve got to go!â she urged, her voice strained. The night air was thick with tension, and every second felt like an eternity as they stumbled forward, the relentless sound of the spiders' approach growing ever nearer.
The street beyond the gate seemed almost normal. Familiar buildings from the neighborhood, cars parked along the curb, trees lining the sidewalks, trash bins and benches scattered here and there. But there was something subtly off about it allâsomething changed, though it was difficult to pinpoint exactly what. It was as if everything had been reshaped in a way that was both familiar and foreign at the same time. The buildings stood the same, yet they seemed to lean slightly to the side, as though weary from holding up the weight of the world. The cars gleamed a little too brightly, their reflections too sharp, as if their surfaces were constantly shifting, just out of reach. The trees rustled, but the sound was wrong, hollow in a way that didn't belong to the natural world. Even the benches and the trash cans seemed to wait a little too still, as though anticipating something they could not quite comprehend.
It was a version of their world, but distorted, as though seen through a lens of smoke and mirrors. Nothing screamed out of place, but everything whispered that it wasâjust enough to unsettle the senses. Something had shifted, something unspeakable had happened, and yet the world still pretended to be the same.
"Let's run to your place, Lex, your house is closer. I can't make it back to mine with my leg like this." Peter's voice was strained, but determined. Alexa nodded without hesitation, gently supporting him as he limped along. Every few steps, she cast a quick glance over her shoulder, eyes scanning the road behind them for any sign of the glass spiders. But none came. It was as though they were tethered to their mirrored kingdom, unable or unwilling to cross the threshold of the gate. The eerie clicking of their glass limbs had faded into the distance, leaving nothing but the strange silence of the world around them.
Still, Alexa couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them, that the quiet was just the calm before the storm. The streets, though almost familiar, seemed to hold their breath. Every shadow felt too deep, every streetlamp too flickering. The world they had known, the one she had thought was solid and unchanging, now felt as fragile as glass, as if it might shatter at any moment.
Unknown:
From the shadowed alleyway, He observed them. His eyes, sharp and calculating, followed Alexa and Peter as they limped down the street, their movements hurried but strained. The way they leaned on each other, Peterâs limp and Alexaâs tense vigilanceâit was clear something had shifted. He felt the subtle pulse of the world around them, a quiet hum in the back of his mind, reverberating like the aftershock of something vast, something that had just begun to awaken.
How curious, indeed.
He had watched them from the moment theyâd crossed through the gate, watched the way their steps faltered as they tried to make sense of the world on the other side. The way Alexa had watched, transfixed, caught in the spell of whatever this place wasâhe couldnât blame her. This world that had replaced the one they thought they knew, was not for the faint of heart. He felt it, too, the strangeness hanging in the air like a heavy fog. But it seemed to be drawing them in, testing them, the way a spider might test the strength of its web before striking.
His mind churned with possibilities.
He stayed in the shadows, far enough to remain unseen but close enough to catch every movement. He had no intention of intervening just yet. There was something fascinating about how Alexa and Peter navigated this distorted version of their worldâhow their instincts pulled them in one direction, unaware of the deeper forces pulling at the strings behind the scenes. He couldnât help but admire their resilience, even as he questioned how long it would last.
Eventually, they reached the end of the street, Alexaâs house looming in the distance. He knew it wasnât truly her house anymore, not in the way it had been. The house they thought they knew was far, far away, swallowed by the forces that ruled this twisted place. But perhaps, in the comfort of that familiarity, they would find the courage to confront the truth.
He let out a quiet breath, his lips curling into something close to a smile.
Peter:
His leg was throbbing, the pain relentless and all-consuming. Alexa helped him into the kitchen and eased him down at the table, her hands gentle yet firm, a stark contrast to the raw agony coursing through his body. She moved with purpose, as if the discomfort in his leg was a distant concern compared to what she was about to do. Slowly, she took kitchen scissors and carefully cut through his pants leg, the fabric yielding with a soft snip. Her movements were efficient, but there was a quiet tension in the air. She pulled out tweezers and bandages from the kitchen drawers, each object an anchor to the world they once knew. The kitchen, with its familiar smell of herbs and the warm hum of the refrigerator, looked exactly as it always had when he visited her home. The routine was soothing in its normalcy, a small comfort amidst the chaos of the world outside.
Yet, despite this familiar scene, there was something that lingered uneasily in the room, like the hum of electricity before a storm.
As Alexa continued to gather supplies, her movements slowed, and then, she froze. Her gaze was locked on something by the windowâa vase, a simple thing, yet the way she looked at it made the air feel heavier. Peter, sensing the shift, paused in his work, the sharp glass in his hand forgotten for a moment.
"Lex, whatâs wrong? You see a ghost or something?" Peterâs voice was low, his pain adding weight to the casual question, but there was a flicker of concern beneath his words. He resumed pulling shards of glass from his leg, wincing with each movement, but his focus remained on her.
Alexa didnât answer right away. She swallowed hard, her throat dry as she tried to steady herself. Finally, she spoke, her voice strained, almost as if the words themselves were a weight she had to bear.
"Well, you could say that." Her eyes never left the vase, as if it were the only thing that existed in the room now. She pointed to it, her finger trembling slightly. "That shouldnât be there."
Peterâs brow furrowed as he looked in the direction she indicated, and his eyes landed on the vase sitting innocently on the windowsill. It was an elegant piece, filled with freshly cut flowers, but it wasnât the flowers that caught his attentionâit was the story Alexaâs words told.
"Luke broke that vase," Alexa continued, her voice tight. "He did it playing ball inside, back when we were kids. I remember it clearly because... because it was my momâs vase. A gift from my grandmother. She treasured it. And Luke... Luke didnât leave his room for days after that. It was bad, Peter. Really bad."
A silence hung in the room, thick and suffocating. The familiar smell of the kitchen, the warmth of the home, all of it suddenly felt like an illusion. The vase, standing untouched in the corner, had no place here. Not in this moment. Not in this time.
Peter looked at her, and then back to the vase. His leg was forgotten for a brief moment, the pain almost secondary to the growing unease creeping into his chest. There was something about that vase, something wrong, as if it didnât belong in this reality, in this version of the house.
"Lex," Peter whispered, his voice low, as if speaking too loudly might shatter something fragile in the air between them. "This place⦠itâs different. Itâs all wrong, isnât it?"
She didnât answer, but the way she looked at the vase told him everything he needed to know. This house, this momentâthey werenât in the world they once knew. The cracks were spreading faster than they could see, and they were trapped somewhere in between, caught in a place that twisted everything familiar into something strange.
Alexa slowly touched the vase, but when nothing unusual happened, she gathered everything she could find and sat on the floor next to Peterâs leg. Carefully, she began removing the shards of glass with the forceps, spraying disinfectant on the wounds and wiping them clean. Peter helped as best as he could, gritting his teeth, doing everything he could to stop himself from crying out in pain.
"Okay, here comes another one," Alexa said softly, trying to keep the mood light. "Don't freak out, but this one looks like a big one."
Peter clenched his fists, his face scrunching up in discomfort. "Great. Just what I need. A souvenir from hell."
"Hey, at least you wonât have to pay for a ticket to the show," she teased, trying to distract him. "Youâre getting the VIP treatment."
Peter huffed out a laugh, wincing as she carefully pulled another shard free. "Yeah, VIP to the most messed-up show on Earth. Lucky me."
"Well, you're the one who always complains that nothing ever happens in our town," she said, lightly dabbing the wound with antiseptic. "Just think of this as the real version of a rollercoaster. More pain, less fun."
Peter gave her a side-eye. "Is that what you tell yourself when Iâm getting stabbed by mirrors in your free time?"
Alexa grinned, her gaze flicking to the glass shards in her hands. "Pretty much. Though, I do have a better story to distract you. You remember when we were kids, right?"
Peter raised an eyebrow, trying to relax despite the pain. "Are you seriously telling me a story right now? While you're, you know, giving me a second-degree glass surgery?"
"Yep," she said with a wink. "Iâm multitasking. Youâre welcome."
Peter rolled his eyes but gave her a small nod. "Alright, hit me with the childhood trauma. If it helps, sure."
Alexa leaned back a bit, setting the forceps down for a second. "Okay, so when we were like... what? Nine? You decided it was a good idea to turn the backyard into an 'obstacle course.' You know, because apparently, being a regular kid wasnât challenging enough for you."
Peter grimaced, still wincing as she gently cleaned another cut. "Please donât remind me. I had the worst ideas as a kid. That thing was a death trap."
"It was a disaster," Alexa said, stifling a laugh. "You had jump ropes hanging from the tree, and you wanted us to crawl under them like we were special ops or something. Then, when I got tangled in one, you just yelled âget up, Lex, youâre ruining the course!â"
Peter couldn't help but chuckle, despite the pain. "Well, it was your fault you were going so slow! You had to keep up with the pace."
"Oh, sure. And you were, what, sprinting through the backyard like a crazy person?" Alexa raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "I think the funniest part was when you tried to climb the tree... and then, surprise, surpriseâyou got stuck halfway up."
Peterâs face flushed slightly as he recalled that moment. "IâI wasnât stuck. I was... waiting for the right moment to make my dramatic descent."
"Oh, please," she grinned. "The only dramatic thing was you hanging there, with your legs flailing like a fish out of water. My Dad had to climb up and get you down. It was a disaster."
"Alright, alright," Peter said with a pained sigh, trying to shake off the memory. "Maybe I wasnât cut out for survival training, but hey, at least Iâve got the endurance part down now. In case I get stuck in a glass hellscape again."
"Yeah, because thatâs clearly our life now," Alexa replied with a half-smile.
Peter chuckled, despite the pain, his grip on the chair tightening. "Definitely not in my top ten life moments. I wouldn't mind a more normal adventure for once, though."
"Like what? A camping trip?" Alexa asked, her tone dry.
"I dunno," Peter said, managing a small grin. "Maybe something with less broken glass and more marshmallows."
"I canât promise the marshmallows, but Iâll try to keep the glass situation down to a minimum next time," Alexa said with a mock-serious tone. She applied a bit more disinfectant and wiped his leg gently, noticing how the pain seemed to lessen a bit as he distracted himself with the conversation.
"Next time," Peter repeated with a smirk, despite the circumstances. "Maybe we should start with a trip to the beach instead of a freaky mirror world."
"Deal," Alexa said, though she wasnât entirely sure how much she'd be able to keep that promise. For now, though, she was just happy to get him through this one ordeal.
"Okay," Peter said after a moment of quiet, his voice softer now. "What's the verdict, Doc? Am I good to walk, or should I start preparing for my permanent seat on the couch?"
Alexa finished wrapping his leg, tying the bandage with a quick knot. She inspected it carefully before nodding. "Youâll live. Probably."
"Thanks," Peter said, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "You're a real confidence booster."
"Hey, that's what I'm here for," she said, finally sitting back. "Someoneâs gotta keep the spirits up, especially when we're stuck in... whatever this is."
"Yeah, canât let the glass demons get us down," Peter agreed, his tone still laced with the humor they both clung to despite everything. "Just another Tuesday in the apocalypse, right?"
"Right," Alexa said with a mock salute. "Weâll make it out of here. Just gotta dodge the creepy spiders and figure out why the worldâs gone all funhouse on us."
"It all changed when you touched that mirror in the abandoned house," Peter said, and Alexa nodded. "But in this twisted version of our world, the mirror wasn't in that corridor anymore."
"Instead, the corridor, the whole house, and the surroundings became one giant mirror," she replied. "Do you think that in this warped tower, there's somewhere that first mirror through which we could return to our world?"
"Probably worth checking," Peter said. "We just need to deal with those spiders first."
"You must be kidding, Peter," Alexa shot back, her voice tinged with frustration. "Look at what we just went through after your fight with that immobile mirror gate. How do you think we'll fare against giant spiders with mirror-sharp legs?"
Alexa was clearly rattled.
"Let's take a look around your house, maybe we'll find something that could help us deal with those creatures or get us back to our reality. I can't stand just sitting around." Peter stood up, and despite the pain, his leg seemed to be functioning just fine.
"You really think we could take on those spiders?" Alexa looked into Peterâs eyes with unease.
"If we prepare for it, I don't think it'll be a problem. If they're made of glass like everything else around that house, they should shatter pretty easily." Peter scratched his head thoughtfully. "Lukeâs room definitely has a baseball bat. We grab it, lure one of those spiders closer to the gate, and see if we can smash it. What do you say?"
Alexa sighed. "Fine... but the moment something goes off-plan, we run. Got it?" Peter let out a short, dry laugh.
"Whatâs so funny, Pete?" She crossed her arms, scowling.
"This morning, you were the one convincing me to go into that cursedâpun absolutely intendedâhouse. Now itâs me coming up with the dumb ideas. Weâre doomed." Alexaâs expression softened, and after a beat, she started laughing too.
"You check your room, Iâll search Lukeâs," Peter said, already limping toward the stairs. "Oh, and by the wayâwhen this is all over, I do want you to paint me fighting off those glass spiders in that house. Itâs going to be legendary!"
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"Maybe Iâll just take a photo insteadâno oneâs going to believe us otherwise," Alexa replied, pulling out her phone and handing it to him. "Peter, before we head upstairs, can you take a picture of me with this vase by the window? I want to show it to my mom when we get back."
Alexa picked up the vase and stood by the window, arranging herself carefully while Peter lifted the phone and snapped the photo.
"Thanks," she said softly. "I was half-expecting the photo to glitch out or something⦠but it looks like the phone works just fine. I guess we really are somewhere else."
"The moons in the sky werenât enough proof for you?" Peter called back as he started making his way up the stairs.
Peter had visited the May household more times than he could countâhis family and Alexaâs had been close for yearsâso the layout of the house held no secrets for him. He limped quickly to Lukeâs roomâAlexaâs younger brotherâopened the door, and immediately froze at the sight before him.
A lot could be said about Luke, but above all else, one thing defined him: baseball. In the real world, his room had always been a shrine to the sport. Alongside the standard teenage essentialsâbed, shelves, desk, and computerâthere had been posters of legendary players, a growing collection of bats, balls, jerseys, and well-worn gloves scattered around like holy relics.
Here though⦠everything was twisted, larger-than-life. The bats were oversized and forged from gleaming metal, almost weapon-like. The gloves and jerseys shimmered like they were made of gold, each piece completely covered in what looked like glowing autographs. The posters on the walls werenât static anymoreâplayers moved across them, tossing balls, swinging at pitches, sliding from one base to another as if the posters were portals to an endless, looping game.
The entire room breathed baseball. It was alive with the rhythm of a sport turned myth.
"Lex! You have to see this!" Peter shouted, lifting one of the bats and giving it a few test swings through the air. The sound it made as it sliced through the room was sharp and clean, like the air itself was parting to make way.
Despite its metallic sheen and obvious density, the bat was astonishingly light in his handsâalmost eager to be swung, as if it had been forged not just for hitting balls, but for striking with purpose. It moved like it belonged to him, perfectly balanced, almost humming with anticipation.
He grinned, wide-eyed, looking down at it. "Okay, I donât know if this counts as a weapon or an artifact, but either way... Iâm not putting this thing down."
"Say hello to the Spider-Slayer," Peter announced proudly, holding up the baseball bat like a knight presenting a sacred sword. But Alexa didnât even glance at himâher wide eyes were fixed on the room, her breath caught somewhere between awe and disbelief.
She stepped forward slowly, as if crossing into a dream, letting the wonder of it all wash over her.
"This is⦠beautiful," she whispered. "Like all of Lukeâs dreams have come alive and started breathing on their own."
Her fingers glided over the now diamond-encrusted trophies, the cool, metal bats lined like weapons in a museum of childhood wishes. She brushed the moving posters with her palm, the images flickering to life under her touchâplayers sprinting from base to base, leaping into impossible catches, celebrating victories again and again in a loop of pure joy.
For a moment, the fear and strangeness of the world outside the room melted away, replaced by something softerâsomething sacred.
"Lookâhis favorite playerâs hoodie and cap," Alexa said, opening a cabinet with a soft creak. Inside, neatly folded, were the two itemsâexcept they werenât made of any fabric Peter had ever seen.
Both looked metallic at first glance, glinting in the roomâs strange light, yet when Alexa touched them, they flexed like cloth. Smooth and pliable, but with a strength that suggested they could stop a bladeâor a spider leg made of broken glass.
Peter examined them curiously, turning the hoodie over in his hands. Then, without hesitation, he pulled off his own and slipped Lukeâs on. It adjusted to his form like it had been waiting for him. He grinned and plucked the cap from the shelf, placing it on his head with a tilt.
"Not bad, huh?" he said, striking a goofy pose. "How do I look?"
"Like a backup player in a post-apocalyptic baseball league," Alexa smirked, crossing her arms.
"Backup? Excuse me, Iâm clearly team captain material," Peter replied, adjusting the cap dramatically. "Captain Spider-Slayer. Has a nice ring to it."
Alexa rolled her eyes but couldn't help the small smile tugging at her lips. In this twisted, uncanny version of the world, it was niceâhowever brieflyâto feel a little bit like themselves.
Peter grabbed Lukeâs backpack and stuffed it with as many baseballs as he could findâfourteen in total. Each one was light but firm, with a satisfying weight to it, like theyâd been engineered for precision. He slung the bag over his shoulder, grinning.
"If this is what your brotherâs room looks like, I canât wait to see what treasures lie in your royal chambers, Lex."
The question snapped Alexa out of her trance-like awe. She blinked once, then suddenly jolted forward with a spark of energy. Before Peter could react, she shoved him out of the wayâstraight onto Lukeâs bedâand bolted for her room.
Peter let out a grunt as he landed on the mattress. "Not exactly what I had in mind when I imagined a woman throwing me onto a bed," he muttered under his breath, staring at the ceiling with a faint, dazed smirk.
From the hallway came Alexaâs voice, trailing off with laughter. "Donât flatter yourself, Romeo. That was purely tactical."
A moment later, he heard a loud, breathless: âOh my unbelievable God!ââand that was all it took.
Peter shot up from the bed like a spring uncoiling, heart skipping a beat, the humor instantly washed away. He dashed out into the hallway, nearly tripping over the edge of the carpet as he hurried toward Alexaâs voice.
She stood frozen in the doorway of her room, her silhouette framed by the strange, colorful glow leaking out from within.
Alexaâs room was⦠immensely larger than it had any right to be.
This space, vast and sprawling, simply couldn't have fit inside the modest house they knew. Physically, architecturallyâit was impossible. And yet, here it was, stretching out before them like some forgotten temple built from dreams.
At the very center stood a circle of easels, each bearing a canvas alive with motion. Dragons soared and twisted across painted skies, their wings brushing the edges of the frames as if the art could no longer contain them. Other canvases held landscapes unlike anything Peter had ever seenâbreathtaking vistas where clouds floated lazily across the sky, rivers spilled real, glittering water from the edge of the canvas, only to vanish midair before touching the floor.
The walls, if they could be called walls at all, curved up seamlessly, a smooth, flowing surface that seemed to bend with the room itself. Instead of traditional boundaries, the space was defined by the shifting forms of artâsculptures in mid-transformation, clay figures and marble shapes that swirled and morphed before your eyes. Some stood in mid-motion, others reached for the sky, frozen in time, caught between one gesture and the next. They were not just creations, but expressions of thought, gestures of the mind trying to escape its own confines. The entire room was a kind of open-air gallery, a sacred garden of imaginationâand the central platform alone looked to be over sixty feet across. No corners to trap the imagination, no hard edges to confine it. The entire structure seemed to breathe with life, expanding and contracting with the pulse of inspiration. The air was thick with the hum of creation, the smell of oil paints and wet clay, the quiet murmur of possibilities yet to be explored.
The floor beneath Alexa's feet was a gleaming, reflective surface, polished to perfection. But it wasnât just smoothâit seemed to shimmer as though it held hidden layers of light, flickering beneath its surface. The reflections from the paintings, sculptures, and the distant piano merged and mingled here, creating an ever-changing kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to dance in time with the heartbeat of the room.
In one of the alcoves, there were shelves filled with forgotten brushes, half-finished sketches, and delicate vials of vibrant pigments. Some of the brushes were tall and wide, others small and delicate, their bristles stained with the hues of untold dreams. The vials held iridescent colors that could only exist in a world of fantasyâbright greens and fiery oranges that seemed to shift depending on how you looked at them. These were the tools of a mind untethered, free to create without constraint.
A large, open sketchbook rested on a low table near the center of the room, its pages flipping softly in the breeze. Each page contained sketches so intricate, so detailed, they appeared almost alive, as if they could jump from the paper and stand before you. Dragons coiled through the air, cities rose out of the horizon, rivers ran wildly through vast, imaginary landscapes. The lines bled into each other, as though one idea was too eager to be separated from the next.
And then there were the clouds. Floating gently across the ceiling, which was both a sky and a canvas, clouds drifted lazily, shifting and swirling into new shapes. They werenât real clouds, of course, but they seemed to be the physical manifestation of Alexa's thoughtsâan ever-changing vision of her mind's eye, drifting across the room and spilling into the air like paint in water. The clouds, some cotton-soft and others heavy with potential, spilled into every corner, tracing the edges of her imagination, giving form to the abstract.
âPeter,â she said softly, her voice reverberating slightly in the vastness of the room. âItâs like every piece of this is a part of me...â
He stood at the threshold, eyes wide in awe, taking it all in. âI donât think Iâve ever seen anything like this.â
The room felt alive, not just because of what was in it, but because of the endless potential hanging in the air. It was a domain of creative energy, a living, breathing universe of ideas that had yet to be fully realized, and Alexa was at the heart of it all, the creator, the dreamer. And here, in this space, she knew that anything was possibleâbecause here, the only limit was what she could imagine next.
Peter blinked, then whistled under his breath.
âWell,â he muttered, glancing sideways at Alexa, âyou win. Your room is officially cooler than Lukeâs.â
She didnât laugh. She just stared, eyes filled with wonder, as if seeing every painting for the first timeâeven though she had painted them all.
Peter approached the center of the room slowly, his gaze lingering on the easels arranged as if around an invisible column. The space seemed to shift with every step, as if it were not quite real, or perhaps something still being formed, waiting to take shape. Alexa stood a few paces behind him, her eyes moving across the room, her expression uneasy. She seemed to absorb every detail, yet there was a tension in her postureâsomething unsettled.
"Pete," she said, her voice low, laced with something he couldn't quite place. "I have this strange feeling... like thereâs something supposed to be here, something missing. Right in the center, behind these easels... Itâs like something is calling to me from the bottom of a deep well, but the voice can't quite reach me."
Peter paused, sensing the shift in her demeanor. His eyes met hers, and without thinking, he took her hand, his grip firm, offering silent reassurance. He could feel the tremor in her fingers.
"Iâm scared, Pete," she continued, her voice almost a whisper now, a vulnerability that cut through the air. "I donât know why, but Iâm afraid..."
Peterâs gaze softened as he squeezed her hand tighter, pulling her a little closer. He hadnât heard her speak like that in a long timeâraw, uncertain, and yet, he understood.
"It's okay," he said quietly, his voice steady. "Whatever it is, weâll figure it out together."
But even as the words left his mouth, a creeping feeling of dread swept over him. The roomâher domain of creation, of endless possibilitiesâfelt different now. The air was thicker, charged with something unspoken, a presence just out of reach. It was as though the very walls, the easels, the unfinished paintings, were waiting for something to happen, and whatever it was, neither of them were ready for it.
They stood there for a moment, the weight of the silence between them heavy, the only sound the faint hum of the air, as if the room itself were holding its breath.
Alexa:
Alexa grabbed the pencil and sketchbook lying on the desk by the bed, her fingers trembling slightly as she picked it up. "Let's get out of here, Peter. I feel like I shouldnât be here right now," she said, her voice firm but laced with a thread of unease. Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked toward the door.
Peter stood still for a moment, his eyes lingering on the room, the surreal and dreamlike space that had just moments ago held so much promise and mystery. But now, it felt oppressive, like it was closing in on him, pressing against him with a weight that was impossible to ignore. His mind raced, trying to comprehend the shifting nature of the place, but in the end, he shook his head and followed her out of the room. He closed the door behind him with a soft click, the sound somehow final, like sealing off a chapter they werenât ready to finish.
As they walked down the hall, the tension that had been coiling around Alexa seemed to dissipate. It was as if the oppressive energy that had gripped her in the room was slowly peeling away, bit by bit, like a heavy weight being lifted from her shoulders. With each step, her breathing grew steadier, deeper, and she let out a long, quiet sigh, her body relaxing for the first time in what felt like ages.
"That was..." she started, her voice trailing off as she glanced at Peter. "I donât know. It felt like the room was waiting for something... like it was alive, but I couldnât figure out what it wanted."
Peter gave a small nod, understanding all too well the unease that had gripped her. "Yeah, I felt it too. Like it was... calling us, or testing us. But itâs good you got out of there."
Alexa offered him a small, relieved smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I didnât realize how much I needed to get out of there. I... I think that room is trying to tell me something, but Iâm not ready to hear it yet."
Peter didnât say anything, but he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, his touch steady and grounding. "Letâs get some air, okay?"
She nodded, her smile growing just a little more genuine. They continued walking down the hallway, the world outside still uncertain, but for the first time in what felt like ages, Alexa felt like she could breathe again.
They sat together on the swing in front of the house. Alexa alternated her gaze between the strange, alien sky above her and the more familiar, yet still foreign, surroundings of the neighborhood. The rhythmic motion of the swing, back and forth, back and forth, seemed to calm her nerves, the gentle sway offering a quiet reprieve from the storm of thoughts that had been racing through her mind.
The world felt like a dream, a place out of reach yet painfully close, as if they were standing on the edge of something much larger and darker, but also filled with untold possibilities. Every creak of the swing seemed to echo a question that neither of them had the answer to yet.
Peter sat beside her, his eyes scanning the same unfamiliar horizon, though his mind seemed more grounded. He wasnât quite as unsettled by the surroundings, perhaps because heâd already grown accustomed to the strange twists of reality that had begun to surround them. The silence between them was comfortable, but it was filled with unspoken understandingâboth of them knew that whatever they faced next, they would face it together.
"Do you think itâs real?" Alexa finally asked, her voice soft, almost as if she didnât want the question to disrupt the fragile peace between them.
Peter turned to look at her, his expression thoughtful. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I think itâs as real as we make it."
Her gaze dropped to her hands resting in her lap, fingers tapping absentmindedly. "I keep feeling like weâre in between worlds," she murmured. "Like we're not quite here, but not quite anywhere else either."
He nodded, the understanding between them deepening. "Maybe that's exactly where we are. In between. But we're still us. And that's all that matters."
Alexa smiled faintly at that, though the weight of everything still lingered in her eyes. "Yeah... I guess. But what if we canât get back? What if this... this is where weâre stuck?"
Peter leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing in a small flash of determination. "Then we make a new world. Together."
The words seemed to settle between them, a promise in the air, unspoken but understood. The wind picked up just a bit, sending the swing swaying gently once more, and for a moment, it felt like the world was still and waitingâwaiting for them to decide what would happen next.
And in that quiet, suspended moment, Alexa allowed herself to feel something she hadnât in a while: hope.
Alexa stood, her heart pounding, but her resolve firm. The air around her felt thick, almost suffocating, but there was no turning back now. "Letâs go, thereâs no point in delaying this any longer. Letâs try your plan."
She glanced over at Peter as he rose behind her. For a brief moment, she caught the way the light hit his faceâan odd mixture of determination and something else. Fear, maybe. But he hid it well. Without a word, he swung the Spider-Slayer three times through the air, the bat slicing the empty space in front of him. The sound it made was sharp, crispâlike the very air itself was being cut apart.
She watched, her breath caught in her throat. The bat was an extension of him, powerful and sure, as though it had always belonged there, in his hands. It was a strange comfortâPeter had always been the one to take action when things seemed beyond their control. Now, as he stood there with the bat in hand, she knew there was no one else she would rather have at her side.
"You sure about this?" His voice broke the silence, low and steady, but she could hear the quiet concern hidden beneath.
Her gaze flickered to the Spider-Slayer, then back to him. Her stomach twisted, but her mind was clear. "We donât have much choice, do we?" she said, the words coming out more calmly than she felt. She turned away before he could respond, walking toward the door. She didnât wait for him to followâshe couldnât afford to waste any more time.
The world outside was a blur of shifting colors and strange sounds. Every step felt heavy, but there was no turning back. They had a plan, fragile as it might be, and it was all they had.
She could hear him behind her, his footsteps in sync with hers as they moved forward. She didnât look back at him, though she could feel his presence just a step away. The weight of the bat in his hands felt almost like a reassurance, a reminder that they werenât entirely powerless here, even in this twisted version of their world.
But still, doubt crept in. Would this really work? Would they even survive whatever came next? She didnât know. And that, more than anything, unsettled her.
She shook her head slightly, pushing the thoughts away. "Letâs get to it, then," Peterâs voice reached her, laced with determination, even though she could hear the quiet edge beneath it. "Time to show these things whoâs boss."
She glanced at him then, and despite everything, a small smile tugged at her lips. It wasnât much, but it was enoughâenough to remind her that they had each other. And that was what mattered.
They stepped forward, side by side, ready to face whatever lay ahead. The weight of the bat, the chill of the air, and the silent promise between themâthe plan was in motion now.
Unknown:
He lingered in the shadows, his eyes narrowed, studying their every movement as Alexa and Peter stepped out of the house. He had been watching them for a while, silent, almost invisible, as if his very presence was part of the mist that seemed to hang in the air of this strange version of their world.
He kept his distance, hidden just enough to stay out of their sight, though he didn't particularly care if they noticed him. His thoughts were elsewhereâwatching them was secondary to what he had been sensing all along. The air around them seemed to thrum with a quiet tension, a pulse that was in sync with Alexaâs every step. He had been observing her closely, and now, more than ever, he was certain: there was something in herâsomething deep, something elementalâthat was connected to this place.
This world had a life of its own, a haunting undercurrent that pulled at Alexa like a thread pulling on a needle. The space between them, Alexa and the distorted reflection of the world, had always been there, barely perceptible but always present. The invisible link between them wasnât just something physicalâit was something primal, an energy tied to her, an energy that hadnât fully formed yet, that was still waiting for something to ignite it.
He could see it now, more clearly than ever before. It was subtle, almost like the shimmer of heat rising from a pavement in summer, a distortion in the air, invisible to the eye but undeniable. Alexa didnât see it. She couldnât. She was too caught up in the danger ahead, in trying to survive, to notice the pulse of creation that hummed in the background of her every movement. But Phillip saw it, felt it, like the air thickening around her.
It was as if the world she was stepping into was calling to her, waiting for her to step deeper, to give it life, to pull it out of the fractured reality it had been trapped in. The domain wasnât just something she had stumbled uponâit was something that had been waiting for her, for her touch, for her belief in it, for her to make real.
As they walked toward the mirror gate, the fractured reflection of the house growing larger in the distance, Phillip could almost hear the faint, whispering pull of that energy. It was the call of a world waiting to be born, a world on the cusp of taking shape, and it needed Alexa to breathe life into it. The air between them buzzed with potential.
His eyes narrowed, watching them disappear into the distance. The crackling tension in the atmosphere lingered, stretching toward Alexa like an invisible tether. He wasnât sure if she could feel it, but he was certain now: something was going to change.
He knew now that he would watch, wait, and see what unfoldedâhe had no other choice. He could almost smell the roses again.
Alexa:
They tried to move quietly toward the mirror house, but they hadnât encountered anything alive besides those damned spiders. It wasnât easy, especially since autumn leaves were scattered almost everywhere, and they seemed to amplify every step, making the sound more distinct under their feet.
"Peter, these leaves are like an exaggerated version of autumn leaves, donât you think?" Alexa whispered, glancing down at the ground.
"Lex, I have no idea what you're talking about. Are you going off on some artistic tangent again?" Peter replied with a slight chuckle.
"No... well, yeah, kind of." Alexa slowed her pace for a moment, taking a deep breath. "I mean, itâs like how most people imagine autumn. Yellow, red, brown, even some still-green leaves under their feet, almost everywhere. Itâs picturesque, not gloomy. They creak softly under their feet. No mud." She caught another breath, smiling faintly. "Like an idealized autumn. A more... perfect autumn, you know what I mean?"
Peter raised an eyebrow, glancing at her for a moment before looking back at the path ahead. "I think I get it. Like everythingâs a little too... perfect, right? Like this place is trying to be a painting of autumn, but not quite the real thing."
"Exactly," Alexa nodded, though her smile faded a bit. "Itâs... like the worldâs trying to be something itâs not. Something it's pretending to be."
Peter glanced down at the ground, watching as the leaves crunched underfoot. There was something off about it all, something that didnât quite fit, something fake about the beauty surrounding them. But for now, the thought felt too heavy to linger on, and so they kept moving, Alexaâs mind still reeling from the strangeness of it all.
"Alright, letâs just keep moving," Peter muttered, quickening his pace. "Weâll figure out the details later."
But Alexa couldnât shake the feeling that she was rightâthat the leaves, the air, and everything around them were more than just strange. They were a reflection, a distorted version of the world they knew. And something about that perfection made her uneasy.
They reached the gate a few minutes later. The mirror fortress loomed over the surrounding houses, its dark, reflective surface gleaming unnaturally under the muted light. Alexa pulled out her phone and snapped a few pictures. Peter grabbed the baseball bat from one end, then the other, placing it behind his head with a nonchalant stance right by the gate. "Take a few shots of me too," he said, grinning.
Alexa sighed but complied, taking the photos. "Iâll send them to you later," she said, her voice low as she continued watching the fortress. "Once we get rid of these damn spiders, that is."
"Iâve got an idea," Peter replied, his tone confident. He walked over to one of the parked cars nearby, took a swing with the bat, and struck the hood with all his strength. The car let out an ear-splitting shriek as the alarm blared to life. "That should wake them up."
"And every other damn creature in the areaâ¦" Alexa muttered, her eyes darting around with growing concern. "We were only supposed to lure out one, Pete!" she yelled over the noise, her frustration clear.
"That was before me and Mr. Spider-Slayer here became best friends, my dear." Peter chuckled, running his hand over the bat as if it were a prized possession.
Alexa shot him a look, still uneasy, but couldn't help the brief flicker of a smile. "Iâm not sure whether to be terrified or impressed."
"Thatâs the beauty of it, Lex," Peter said, still smirking. "A little of both keeps life interesting."
As the blaring car alarm echoed in the silence, Alexa could only shake her head, realizing that, Peter had managed to turn an already bizarre situation into something even more chaotic. But she couldnât deny the plan was at least moving them forwardâwhether they were ready for what came next or not.
Not long after, they heard the first rhythmic clicking of the spiders. Their glassy limbs tapped against the mirror-like blades of grass. Moments later, the first of them appeared, emerging from behind the glass trees.
âPete, no matter what happens⦠thank you for coming with me to this cursed house, and for always having my back,â Alexa said, her voice unsteady but sincere.
âOh no, no, no, Lex, donât go pulling the 'Iâm probably gonna die so Iâll thank you for everything' routine,â Peter replied, tapping the bat rhythmically against the sidewalk, then lifting it with both hands, ready to strike. âEverythingâs gonna be fine, Lex. Weâll be back home today, mark my words.â
Alexa glanced at him, a small, tight smile tugging at her lips, the unease in her stomach still churning. But his confidence, or maybe his refusal to acknowledge how much danger they were in, helped her steady herself. It was strange, but with Peter, it felt easier to hold onto some hope.
That's when the first spider leaped, or rather, shot itself into the air. It covered a solid 30 feet in mere seconds. Alexa wasn't ready for that. Terrified, she screamed and fell onto her butt, using her hands to catch herself. At that moment, she heard a sound like thunder and the glass shattering into a thousand tiny pieces. Peter had struck the spider with such force that there was almost nothing left of it.
"That's how it's done!" he yelled, readying himself for the next one.
The creature, mid-leap, aimed its legs like blades toward Peter. He sidestepped quickly and with a half-turn, swung the bat down onto it from above. Another thunderous crack. Glass shards embedded into the concrete sidewalk with incredible force.
The scene repeated itself four more times. Peter moved like water, each motion fluid and calm, until the wave crested and the strike hit with the force of a tsunami, shattering the glass monsters into pieces.
Alexa, still sitting on the ground, watched him in awe, a strange mix of fear and admiration in her eyes. It was as though Peter had become part of the chaos, moving in perfect harmony with it. She took a deep breath, reminding herself that she wasnât alone in this. She still had him.
"See?" Peter grinned, wiping the sweat off his brow as he approached her. "Told you we'd be fine."
"Come on, let's head to the tower," Peter said, extending his hand to Alexa and helping her up. Alexa stared for a moment at the remnants of the shattered spiders. The silver light that had been swirling through the mirrors around them now hovered in the broken pieces, its essence lingering in the glass. It was still there, but now that the creatures were dead, the light seemed to bleed out of them, a wave cascading through millions of mirrorsâacross grass, trees, leaves, and the pathâheading toward the tower.
She felt a strange pull toward it, like the light was calling them, or maybe calling her. But it was different now. It wasnât just a reflection, it was alive, moving, drawing them deeper into the unknown. A silent force, as though the tower was waiting for them to reach it. To cross into something... else.
Peter, sensing her hesitation, gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Itâs okay, Lex. We're almost there."
But Alexa wasn't sure if they were heading toward salvation or further into the heart of whatever nightmare this world had become. Still, she followed him, feeling the strange current pulling them forward.
"Yeah, by the way, Lex, I meant to ask earlier, why did you take your sketchbook and pencil from your room?" he asked, curiosity driving his voice as he walked quietly alongside Alexa. Only then did she notice that she was holding it tightly.
Alexa glanced at him, her expression momentarily distant, before she let out a small sigh. "I don't know... it felt like something I should have with me, like... like it might help. I mean, I always draw or paint when I need to figure things out, you know?" She glanced back at him, offering a slight, almost apologetic smile. "Maybe I just wanted to keep something familiar, in case this place started to feel even more... alien."
Peter nodded, understanding more than he let on. "Yeah, I get that.â
They walked on in silence for a few moments, the occasional creak of shifting glass underfoot breaking the stillness. The world around them was strange, unsettling, yet Alexa's grip on her sketchbook seemed to anchor her in some way.
From beneath the jagged, twisted roots of one of the glass trees, a faint movement caught her eyeâa glimmer, a reflection of light. Alexa froze, her heart skipping a beat as the motion became clearer. A glass spider, its legs translucent and sharp like shards of ice, emerged slowly from the darkness beneath the roots. Its body gleamed in the strange, silvery light, the facets of its abdomen shifting unnaturally, almost as if the creature were being sculpted by the reflections themselves.
The spiderâs legs clicked quietly against the glass earth, each step deliberate, unnervingly silent. Alexaâs breath caught in her throat as the creatureâs many eyes seemed to focus on her, its slow crawl toward her unsettling and deliberate.
The spider's thin, crystalline legs scraped against the ground as it skittered closer. She could feel her pulse quicken, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. The glass beneath her feet felt colder, sharper, the environment closing in on her as the spiderâs presence seemed to pull at the very air around them.
And then, just as the spider's legs reached for her, Peter moved.
In a blur of motion, he swung the Spider-Slayer, the baseball bat slicing through the air with a force that echoed in the otherwise silent world. The hit was precise and brutal.
With a sickening crack, the bat collided with the spider's sleek, glass body, the impact sending shards of translucent fragments flying in every direction. A burst of sharp, high-pitched screeches filled the air for a momentâlike the sound of breaking glassâbefore it was silenced by the force of the blow.
The spiderâs form disintegrated in an instant, shattering into a hundred splintered pieces, its body reduced to a glittering, jagged heap of broken glass.
Alexa blinked, heart racing, as she watched the pieces fall to the ground, scattering like a deadly puzzle. Her breath came in shallow gasps, but the weight of terror lifted from her chest, if only slightly. She turned her head to Peter, who stood there, holding the bat firmly, a look of concentration in his eyes as the last of the pieces fell to the glass floor.
"You're okay," Peter said, his voice steady, though his eyes were scanning the shadows for any more threats.
Alexa nodded slowly, her hands trembling slightly as she wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. "Thanks, Pete."
Peter gave a short, reassuring nod. "No problem. It's what Spider-Slayer's for." He smirked, though there was a hint of concern in his eyes as he glanced at her. "But we gotta keep moving. That thing wasnât alone."
Alexa looked back at the shattered remains of the spider, the glimmering shards catching the light. Her mind raced, the danger of this place sinking in more with every step they took. Still, she forced herself to take a deep breath, the terror momentarily stilled by Peter's presence.
"Weâll be ready," she whispered, more to herself than to him. "Letâs keep going."
She couldnât stop thinking about how her presence in this place was just a burden for Peter. She was someone he had to take care of, someone he had to worry about, and she hated that feeling. She started wondering what she could do to stop being just a hindrance to her friend. She would not allow anything to break her.
They finally reached the tower, to that strange entrance that had opened earlier, allowing them to escape the glass house. Peter approached it just like before, reaching out, but nothing happened. The surface of the mirror portal didnât budge, only reflecting Peterâs concerned face.
"Do you think I should break it, like we did with the spiders?" he asked, worried.
"At this point, I think we have no other choice. There's no handle, and it let us out before⦠maybe it only works one way," Alexa said, stepping closer, inspecting both the strange door and the glass frame around it. The mirror of the door looked different than the others. It resembled more of a water surface than a solid one, but this time, it didnât part at either of their touches.
"Come on, break it into pieces, Pete," Alexa said, stepping back to a safe distance.
"Pete, Smash!" Peter shouted, hitting the mirror with all his strength. This time, there was no loud crash, and the mirror didnât shatter. The bat sank slightly into the surface of the mirror, and then it was ejected with enough force to knock Peter off his feet.
"What the hell!" he shouted.
"Try breaking the frame, or the wall next to it," Alexa said, watching the whole scene unfold. Peter stood up and, with all his might, struck just beside the strange door, then again, and again, and again. Despite the strikes breaking off small shards of glass, it was clear that there was no way to break through the wall, not like with the gate or the spiders.
"I guess we need to change the plan, Lex. Itâs not budging," Peter said, letting his arms drop in defeat.
As Peter let his arms drop in frustration, the silence around them seemed to grow heavier. They both stood still for a moment, the tension thick in the air. Then, suddenly, a low, rhythmic clicking noise cut through the quiet. At first, it was faint, almost like a distant echo. But it quickly grew louder, more insistentâsharp, like nails scratching against glass.
Alexa froze, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "Peter..." she whispered, her voice tight with fear. "Do you hear that?"
Peter turned his head, listening. The sound grew more pronounced with each passing second, now unmistakably the skittering of multiple legs against the glass. But it wasnât just the usual subtle scurrying. This sound was deeper, more menacing, as though something far larger was moving through the mirrored trees.
Suddenly, they both saw it. Emerging from the shadows of the tower, descending slowly from above, was a massive spider. Its translucent legs glimmered like shards of broken glass in the dim light, and its body, easily the size of a large dog, crawled down with an eerie grace. The sheer size of it was enough to stop them both in their tracks. Its eyes glowed with a malevolent light, the reflection of the surrounding glassy world reflecting in its terrifying gaze.
"That thing... it's huge," Alexa whispered, taking a step back without realizing it, her voice trembling.
Peter gripped his bat tighter, his jaw set in determination, but his heart was pounding louder than the clicking sound of the spider's legs. "Stay calm, Lex. Weâve got this."
But the closer the creature got, the more they could hear its wet, sticky footsteps as it moved down from the tower, its huge form eclipsing the light. With every step, it seemed to grow bigger, more imposing, its legs almost brushing the edges of the surrounding glass trees.
The silence of the place was broken only by the steady, frightening scrape of the spiderâs body sliding across the mirror-like surface. Then, in a split second, it leapt forward, its monstrous legs stretching out as if it meant to pounce.
Peter and Alexa barely had time to react before the enormous spider launched itself toward them with horrifying speed.
Peter raised his bat just in time, blocking the deadly leg aimed straight at his head. But this time, the spider's limb didnât shatter like the othersâit held. The sheer force of the blow made him stumble back a few steps, clearly surprised. Alexa, watching with wide eyes, could still see the fierce determination burning in his face.
The spider was massiveâfar bigger than the othersâbut also slower. Peter deflected and blocked with practiced fluidity, each hit of the Spider-Slayer reverberating through the air. With each agile leap backward, he tried to draw the creature further from Alexa. Thatâs when she noticed the grimace of pain flicker across his face with every stepâhis injured leg was slowing him down. Yet still, he fought, giving everything to keep the creatureâs focus on him.
âRun, Lex! Get to the house!â he shouted between attacks. Another leg came down like a guillotine, and again he raised the bat to deflect it. âIâll hold it off as long as I can!â
Alexa stood frozen, watching this strange dance between her best friend and the towering glass nightmare. Peter moved like waterâflowing between attacks, responding with strikes of his ownâbut with every dodge, every swing, he was losing strength. And then, one of the spiderâs razor-sharp limbs made it past his guard and struck him in the chest.
Alexa gasped.
But the leg didnât pierce himâit scraped uselessly across the metallic surface of the hoodie he had taken from Lukeâs room.
That spark of hope ignited something in her.
Magic, she thought. The room. The hoodie. The sketchbook.
Her eyes dropped to the sketchbook in her hands, and her grip tightened.
Without hesitating, she flipped it open, took a breath, and began to draw. She sketched Peter in motion, dodging, blocking, striking. She captured the rhythm of the fight, his defiant stance, the spider's looming limbs. But soon, she moved beyond what she saw.
She began to draw what she wanted to see.
On the next page, Peterâs bat connected cleanly with one of the spider's legsâand it shattered. Then another. And another. On the final sketch, Peter stood triumphant, panting, with one foot planted on the crushed head of the spider, the Spider-Slayer raised like a banner.
As she closed the sketchbook, something strange began to happen.
A warm, glowing lightâsoft, pulsing, and colorfulâwrapped itself around her fingers, her hand, and the tip of her pencil.
When she looked upâ
âit was all happening.
Exactly as she had drawn it.
Peter:
The moment Alexa snapped the sketchbook shut, a tremor ran through the airâas if the world itself had taken a breath.
The spider lunged again, its serrated limbs slashing the air in a blur of silvery motion. But Peter, as if guided by some unseen rhythm, moved with sudden precision. His tired limbs surged with new strength. His stance firmed. His eyes locked onto the creature with razor-sharp focus.
He sidestepped one strike, then another, spinning low and rising with the Spider-Slayer gripped tightly in both hands.
Crack!
The bat collided with one of the spiderâs forelegs. A brilliant flash of light burst out from the point of contact, followed by the unmistakable sound of shattering glass. The limb exploded into a spray of shimmering shards, each piece catching the reflection of the strange mirrored sky.
The creature shriekedâa high, piercing sound like a violin string snapping under too much tension. It staggered, but Peter didnât stop. He moved forward with renewed fury, dancing around the monsterâs flailing limbs.
Crack! Crack!
Two more legs shattered beneath the weight of his strikes. The spider reeled, off balance now, swiping desperately, but Peter ducked beneath it, spun, and drove the bat upwardâ
Boom!
The Spider-Slayer smashed into the creatureâs central body. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, with a sound like thunder trapped inside a crystal dome, the entire torso cracked open, a web of fractures spreading outward like lightning.
The spider seemed to freeze mid-screech, light pulsing wildly inside its bodyâ
âand then it exploded.
Glass rained in every direction, a glittering storm of shards and refracted light. A wave of silver energy surged upward into the mirrored sky, racing back toward the tower like a retreating tide.
In the stillness that followed, Peter stood amidst the wreckage, chest heaving, the Spider-Slayer resting on his shoulder like a championâs sword. Shards of the spider glimmered around him, catching the light in a thousand tiny reflectionsâeach one a victory.
Peter lowered the Spider-Slayer slowly, still catching his breath, the echoes of shattered glass fading into the strange, mirrored silence around them. As his eyes met Alexaâs, something shiftedâsomething he hadnât noticed before, something new.
The air around her shimmered.
It started softly, like morning mist catching the sun, then grew brighter, fullerâribbons of color, soft and flowing, began to unfurl around her. They drifted lazily in the air, undulating like silk underwater. Hues of deep violet, warm gold, burning crimson, and electric teal spiraled from her fingertips, coiling gently around her wrists and up her arms. Faint lines of that same light trickled from the corners of her eyes like glowing tearsânot of sorrow, but of awakening.
It wasnât just light. It was something alive, something full of intention. It pulsed and moved with her breath, responding to her heartbeat, her presence. As if the magic itself had always been within her, waiting for this exact moment to show itself.
Peter stood in stunned silence, bat lowering completely as he took a half step toward her.
âLexâ¦â he whispered, voice caught between awe and disbelief. âYouâre glowing.â
The ribbons curled around her shoulders, then fanned out behind her like slow-motion wings of paintbrush strokes across reality, casting a dim, radiant aura around her body. Her eyes shimmered with the same swirling color, wide and blinking, as if she hadnât realized what was happening until now.
âI⦠I feel it,â she said quietly, looking down at her hands. âSomething opened.â
Peter stared at her, breathlessânot from the fight, but from what he was seeing now. Not from the glass spiderâs remains, but from the quiet storm of beauty unraveling before him.
Peterâs voice was barely a whisper. âWhat did you do?â
Alexa looked down, opened the sketchbook slowly, and turned it toward him.
âI drew what I wished would happen,â she said quietly. Her voice was steady, but there was disbelief there too, as if saying it out loud made it even more surreal. âAnd then⦠it happened.â
Peter stepped closer, eyes scanning the drawings: the spider, towering over him⦠his dodges, the parries⦠the final blow, the shattering of glass, the victorious stance. Each frame as vivid as a memory already lived.
He looked back at her. âYou made it happen.â
She nodded, swallowing hard. âI think I did.â
Silence stretched between them for a momentâthick, uncertain, filled with shifting possibility. Then Peter smiled, a slow, proud grin curling at the edge of his lips.
âWell,â he said, raising an eyebrow, âremind me never to get on your bad side.â They both brightened up and burst into laughter.