The mirror-faced man didn't move.
But the city around him did.
Windows rippled like water.
Signs unspelled themselves.
People paused mid-stride—
then walked backward.
> "This place… it's folding,"
Alexis said, teeth clenched.
> "No," Amelia whispered.
"It's remembering."
The spiral in her hand pulsed.
Not pain. Not warning.
More like a question:
"What now?"
She stepped forward.
> "You said we shouldn't write.
Why?"
The man's voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere.
> "Because stories aren't yours.
They belong to the first spiral."
Behind him, the air cracked again—
revealing Room 303,
impossibly intact, glowing with vines and dust.
> "Enter,"
the faceless one said.
"Learn what was buried.
And why you were chosen to bloom."