Maya slowly climbs the stairs, clutching the cloth doll to her chest without really meaning to. She looks down at it as she walks, uncertain. What is she supposed to do with this? Talk to it? Hold it close to her heart? The idea feels absurd. Ashford's speech keeps circling in her mind. Could guilt really be swept away like dust? Maya doesn't believe it. It's not for lack of trying.
When she reaches her room, she opens the door but freezes on the threshold. An unusual scent lingers in the air—subtle, yet foreign. Her breath catches. Her senses sharpen, every muscle tense. She scans the room carefully, looking for anything out of place. Nothing. Everything seems untouched.
Then her gaze lands on the mirror. The towel she had carefully draped to cover it now lies limply on the floor. Maya frowns. She's certain she secured it properly this time. Slowly, she steps forward and picks up the towel. Her reflection in the mirror stares back at her—tired and slightly tense. She places the towel back over it, but the unease lingers, like an invisible shadow in the room.
A sudden, urgent need to leave grips her. She grabs her coat, scarf, and gloves, and rushes out.
In the hallway, she stops near the staircase leading to the top floor, shrouded in darkness. A peculiar tension fills the air here, and suddenly, Maya thinks she hears knocking, as if someone is tapping on a door somewhere above. She shivers and places a hand on the banister, hesitant to climb.
"Is everything okay?"
Maya jumps violently, turning to see a man—presumably Ashford's second assistant—standing there with a stack of towels in his arms. He smiles awkwardly. She forces herself to nod.
"Yes, yes. I… Did you go into my room?"
"Only the bathroom, to replace the towels," he replies, looking surprised by the question. "Why?"
"Did you... touch the mirror?"
"What mirror?"
"Oh… Nothing," she says, forcing a weak smile, trying to hide her discomfort. "Never mind."
Without waiting for a response, she quickly walks away, her hurried steps taking her out of the house. She needs air. Outside, she takes a deep breath, her exhale forming a misty cloud in the cold air. The chill bites her cheeks, but she feels slightly better. She crosses the gardens, pulling her coat tightly around herself against the biting wind. The air has that distinct smell of imminent snow.
She glances back over her shoulder at the massive building looming behind her. In the gray, dreary daylight, Blackmere Estate looks grim, almost hostile. She looks away, her heart heavy, and keeps walking. She wanders aimlessly, her mind clouded by the weight of recent events. A vague unease refuses to leave her, the doll still clutched in her gloved hand.
She follows a winding path that borders the property, her eyes drawn to the wrought-iron fence enclosing the estate. The tall, black gates, adorned with intricate metalwork, form an imposing barrier. Impossible to break in, of course... but also impossible to break out. Maya stops, assessing the height. Climbing it seems impractical in an emergency. She shrugs, trying to convince herself it's irrelevant. After all, if she asked to leave, they'd open the gates, wouldn't they?
A faint tension rises in her, but she shakes it off, dismissing the creeping anxiety. No reason to panic. As she circles back and approaches the small frozen lake, she notices Elias sitting alone on a stone bench, his head bowed. He holds his doll on his lap, his hands resting over the white cloth as if in prayer. The scene intrigues her, and despite herself, she walks closer.
"Mind if I sit?"
He looks up, a soft but tired smile lighting his face.
"Of course."
She sits next to him, her movements a little stiff. The coldness of the bench seeps through her coat, but she ignores it. Her gaze drifts to the doll he's still holding. Elias notices and gives her a gentle smile.
"So, what do you think of this little exercise so far?"
"I'm not sure what to make of it, to be honest. Ashford's talk about guilt... it feels strange."
"Strange how?"
"Well, it just seems simplistic. Declaring an emotion harmful and saying you can just... sweep it away—it feels a bit... unrealistic. Same with the idea of offloading your past onto something else. It doesn't ring true. If it were that easy, wouldn't everyone know about it?"
Elias laughs softly, a gentle, almost paternal chuckle.
"I suppose Ashford, like many others, confuses guilt with the need for forgiveness."
"They're kind of the same thing, aren't they?" Maya tilts her head, puzzled.
He laughs again, a light and amused sound.
"Oh, really?"
Then his expression shifts, taking on a more serious tone. He looks away for a moment, as if searching for the right words.
"I took the liberty of reading about you and your friends online. I'm sorry for what happened."
Maya's heart tightens, and she instinctively draws back, her defenses rising automatically.
"You don't believe the papers? That it was our fault?"
"No. With all due respect to Harriet, sensationalism has never done anyone any good."
"So... you believe me?"
"I know what Jimmy was capable of... or should I say Hugo? Even I'm not sure anymore."
"You believe the story about his alter ego, then?" Maya raises an intrigued eyebrow. "The idea that they were two, trapped in the same body?"
Elias takes a deep breath, his gaze drifting into the distance.
"When I was a student training to become a priest, I worked in a psychiatric hospital. I met patients with Dissociative Identity Disorder and learned that sometimes, the mind fractures to survive. Jimmy experienced... terrible things as a child. I entered the lives of Rose and her son just after the death of Hugo Hall, his father. Anyone could see that child had been beaten. And Rose had suffered too."
Maya stays silent, her fingers instinctively gripping the doll in her hands.
"As quiet as Hugo Hall's accident may have seemed, it must have been both a trauma and a relief—God forgive me for saying that. Situations like that... it doesn't take much for a mind to break. Jimmy could have created an alter ego to protect himself, to absorb the pain and violence. It's no surprise that this alter ego called itself Hugo Punch... perhaps an unintentional homage to his father."
Maya presses her lips together, deep in thought. She looks skeptical, as though she knows something Elias doesn't.
"You really think that's what it was? That Hugo was... an alternate personality? And not... something else?"
Elias turns his head slightly toward her, curiosity evident on his face.
"What are you thinking?"
The young woman shifts her gaze to the lake, where her faint reflection quivers on the icy water.
"When I was in the hotel, Jimmy took me to the basement. A hidden room... with a grave. Hugo Hall's grave."
Elias stares at her, his expression a mix of surprise and focus. Maya can't tell if he's shocked to hear this or if he already knew and is surprised she does too.
"It wasn't an accident. Rose killed him. To protect Jimmy. To stop Hugo from hurting him."
Elias blinks, seeming to weigh his words before responding.
"How do you know that?"
Maya hesitates. She grips the doll tightly, her gaze momentarily distant.
"Jimmy told me."
It's half a lie, but she's not ready to admit the truth. She isn't sure how to explain to a priest that she saw it... that Rose's ghost had shown her everything with a clarity that still haunts her nights.
"He also told me strange things," she adds, her voice trembling slightly. "He said... that thing inside him came from his father. And that it had been passed down in his family for generations. He talked about it with pride. It was like... a legacy. A curse, maybe."
She briefly meets Elias's gaze, searching for a reaction. But he simply smiles at her gently, with the patience of someone accustomed to hearing confessions.
"Hmm … have you ever had the chance to study Carl Jung?"
"Not really…"
He sets his doll beside him and turns slightly toward her.
"Among his many ideas, Jung spoke of the Shadow—the personification of everything we refuse to recognize or admit about ourselves. On one hand, there are the tendencies we suppress due to our moral conscience or the choices we've made. On the other, there are the most precious vital forces, the ones that have never had a chance to reach our awareness."
He pauses, giving her a moment to absorb his words.
"We have two choices: we either come to know our Shadow, or we remain ignorant of it. And if we don't know it, we often end up projecting it onto a personal enemy. Someone—or something, even a symbol or concept—onto whom we cast everything we hate or deny about ourselves.
Maya listens intently, fascinated despite herself.
"This thing becomes our scapegoat. We attribute all our flaws, our darkness, and our vices to it. We burden it with the accusations that, in truth, belong to us. By doing so, we think we're freeing ourselves from our Shadow. But in reality, it's just an illusion. So, my dear, let me ask you this: until we face and embrace our Shadow, aren't we all, in some way, cursed?"
Maya remains silent, frozen by the uncomfortable feeling that the conversation has shifted to being about her.
"Is it… is it possible for some people to see the shadows of… others?"
Elias tilts his head thoughtfully for a moment, then nods calmly.
"Nothing is impossible."
"Wouldn't that be a bad thing?"
"That would depend."
"On what?"
"On what you do with it," he says with a gentle smile. "With a hammer, someone can build monuments, a home, beautiful things, or… cave in a man's skull. But the hammer itself remains what it is: a tool. It's what you do with it that defines its nature. In the same way, our minds can turn toward guilt or toward forgiveness. The difference is that one depends on others, while the other depends only on us."
Maya clasps her hands, her gaze growing distant, tinged with bitterness.
"So, what? I'm supposed to forgive Jimmy for everything he's done, for what happened? Just like that? Simple?"
"There's nothing simple about it—quite the opposite. But it's important. Not for him. For you."
Maya remains silent, absorbing his words, which feel harsh to her, unsettled by the sense that she can't quite tell Elias what truly haunts her… yet knowing there's truth in his words.
"Forgiveness takes immense courage, because it means facing your own Shadow… and inviting it to tea."
A small, wry smile crosses his face. Maya can't help but let out a soft laugh, then wipes away a few stray tears escaping from the corners of her eyes. Elias gently pats her hand—a simple but comforting gesture.
"Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darknesses of other people."
Maya nods, a faint smile lingering on her lips. But before she can respond, something catches her attention: tiny snowflakes begin to fall, swirling in the icy air. Elias lifts his head, watching the snow with a light smile.
"Well, there's a good excuse to head back inside."
The young woman nods softly. Together, they stand, picking up their dolls, and walk slowly toward the house, leaving behind the stone bench and the little lake, now beginning to be blanketed by a fine layer of white.
Maya doesn't notice the woman draped in red watching her from across the lake before disappearing in a gust of icy wind.
The snow falls at a frantic pace now, the flakes swirling in a dense and hypnotic dance. What had started as a light dusting has turned into a full-blown storm. By early afternoon, it's already difficult to see more than a few meters ahead. The heavy clouds obscuring the sky give the day an atmosphere of an early night, and the house seems to gradually disappear into a frozen cocoon, isolated from the rest of the world.
Maya watches the landscape through the dining room window, a fresh cup of hot tea in her hands, her fingers gripping its surface. Her gaze lingers on the cars outside, half-buried under the snow, afraid to see them vanish completely beneath the weight of the flakes, and with them any chance of leaving. The bitterness of the tea on her tongue is not the only thing responsible for the unease she feels.
Sitting across from her, Elias gives her a warm smile and gently taps the back of her hand.
"You don't have to worry. I've spoken with Ashford. His assistants will clear the snow as soon as the storm calms down."
She nods, trying to reassure herself with his words. Seated next to them, Fred watches the white chaos outside as well. A steaming cup of tea sits in front of him, but he doesn't seem eager to touch it. The small head of his doll sticks almost comically out of his jacket pocket, like a curious child watching the world through a car window.
Maya looks away, a knot of apprehension forming in her stomach. Ever since he told them his story, she can't help but be wary of him.
"So, what do you think of the experience so far?" Fred leans back in his chair.
Maya exchanges a glance with Elias, who responds with a light smile.
"We're… let's say skeptical."
Fred raises an eyebrow, his expression a mix of amusement and interest.
"Harriet and Camille seem to find it completely fine. I even heard the poor girl talking to her doll. But… tell me… Had you heard of the Phoenix Institute before coming here?"
Both shake their heads. Elias sits up slightly, placing his cup on the table.
"It's a member of my congregation who told me about it. He knew Dr. Ashford before she became a psychiatrist. Back then, I believe she was the HR director of a large company."
"HR director?" Fred raises an eyebrow, surprised. "That's quite a leap from psychiatry, isn't it?"
"It is, but I've seen more surprising things. Many people take time to find their true calling."
Fred nods thoughtfully, then turns his attention to Maya.
"And you? How did you hear about Phoenix?"
"My psychiatrist. Apparently, he knows Dr. Ashford—they're… colleagues, I suppose."
"How did you meet him?"
The question takes her off guard.
"He contacted me a few months after… what happened. He wanted to help."
"How did he find you, then?"
"I don't know, exactly," Maya stiffens, uncomfortable with the unexpected questioning. "It was after… after a friend's suicide. I guess the police must have suggested to Dr. Leclerc that he take care of me."
"The police aren't authorized to do that."
"Ah… Well, then I… I don't know."
Maya freezes, her thoughts clashing. She had never really thought about how Dr. Leclerc had come into her life.
"That friend… what was her name?" Fred seems to sense her discomfort but presses gently
"Annie."
"I'm sorry for your loss. Truly."
He allows a moment of silence before changing the subject, perhaps to lighten the mood.
"Have you ever heard the name Atlas before?"
Maya and Elias exchange a confused look.
"You mean... like in Greek mythology?"
"Not exactly. It's a kind of 'business course,' an accelerated program aimed at university students or recent graduates. They used... let's say, unconventional methods. But in return, they promised incredible opportunities, prestigious positions in major companies for those who completed the program. Ring a bell?"
Maya and Elias exchange another puzzled look, then the priest laughs softly, shaking his head.
"You know, I'm far from my university days..."
"And I've never heard of it. But I'm not in business school either, so... Why?"
Fred shrugs slightly, his smile vaguely enigmatic.
"I just wanted to check something. Anyway, I'll leave you to it. We'll cross paths later."
He gets up and walks away, leaving his cup of tea behind. Maya notices that she hasn't seen him touch it once. She watches him go, still confused.
"That was strange, right?"
Elias laughs, amused, which eases the tension in the room a bit.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
A piercing scream suddenly splits the air with an almost unbearable intensity, rising from the upper floor like a wave of raw despair. A woman's voice shreds the calm of the house, visceral, terrified.
Maya jumps violently, and in her panic, knocks over the cup Fred had left behind. It crashes to the floor with a crystalline sound, spilling its contents onto the tile. Frozen in terror, her breath falters as she realizes that the liquid spreading across the floor is not the amber brown of tea, but a dark, thick, sticky red.
Blood.