They arrived in silence.
Five men in suits, all identical.
All blind.
Their eyes were sewn shut with thread so thin it shimmered. Their suits immaculate. And every one of them had a black spiral branded into the skin beneath the left ear.
They stood outside Amelia's apartment at dawn.
And said nothing.
Just waited.
---
Inside
Alexis had arrived barely ten minutes earlier, black coffee in hand and suspicion in her eyes.
"You saw them again?"
Amelia nodded.
"They haven't moved. Haven't spoken."
Alexis peeked through the blinds. "Creepy synchronized creeps. Great."
Amelia opened her notebook again.
The spiral hadn't moved since the man in Room 306 vanished. But now, words were forming in the margins—slow, hesitant, like handwriting pulled from a dream:
> "They are the Watchers.
They do not speak.
They do not stop.
They only wait for the Third Door to open."
Alexis read over her shoulder and muttered, "Third door? We barely found one."
---
Flashback – Ashcroft Asylum, 6 Years Ago
Rain pounded the windows.
Amelia stood alone in a white hallway, staring at a door marked "303."
Inside: screaming.
Her hand was on the knob, trembling.
From behind her, a voice whispered—
"You open it, you inherit it."
She turned. No one there.
But on the door: a spiral, drawn in her own blood.
---
Now
"I think I've opened something before," Amelia said quietly. "I just never remembered."
Alexis's jaw tightened.
"You're not going back in alone next time."
They turned to face the spiral-men again—
But they were gone.
No footsteps. No sound. Just the faint imprint of spirals burned into the sidewalk.
And a package at the doorstep.
Wrapped in old newspaper. Stamped with a wax seal bearing the same symbol.
Inside: a single item.
A mirror.
Small. Cracked. With writing etched into the glass:
> "He lives in your reflection.
He waits for the moment you look too long."
---
Somewhere Else – An Archive Without Time
Rows of shelves. Flesh instead of wood. The books are made of skin, the ink smells like iron.
A woman walks through.
Gloved hands. White lab coat. A spiral tattoo that wraps from her wrist to her collarbone.
She stops at one case.
Draws out a file marked: Alexis Ward.
Opens it.
Inside: photographs from childhood, surveillance from her police academy days, and finally—
A picture of her standing beside a spiral-marked corpse.
The woman smiles.
"She doesn't remember yet," she says to the void. "But she will."
Behind her, the Hollow Man turns.