"Jenks… you'd better have a damn good reason for waking me up in the middle of the night."
"You have no idea, chief."
The inspector steps away toward the window to explain the situation in a low voice. Maya, leaning against a wall, watches him silently, her mind overflowing with images, thoughts, and a lingering sense of unease. How is he going to explain what they've been through—those things that defy logic and would, without a doubt, raise his superior's eyebrows? And more importantly, how will he speak of the unspeakable without sounding insane? He'll probably save that part for later too.
Maya drifts into her thoughts, noticing that the constant whispers finally seem to have quieted. If she really focuses, she can still hear them—but for now, she leaves them where they are. Harriet approaches her then, examining her face with a mixture of curiosity and relief, her gaze tracking every scratch, every trace of exhaustion.
"I'm glad you're okay, Maya," she finally says after her inspection. "What a relief… We were all really scared it'd end badly."
Maya blinks, surprised by her concern, and gives her a faint smile in return. The journalist continues, gently rubbing her arm.
"When we went back to get Jenks, I thought Jimmy had just left you there and—"
"Hugo."
The journalist frowns, visibly thrown off by the interruption.
"Sorry?"
"Hugo. Not Jimmy. They're not the same person."
Harriet's face shuts down immediately. A flash of annoyance crosses her features as she folds her arms.
"Does it really matter? Personally, the only order rescue teams should get when they find him is to shoot on sight."
A chill rushes down Maya's spine. Whatever faint flicker of sympathy she might've felt for Harriet vanishes in an instant. After everything she's learned about herself, how could she not identify with Jimmy? How could she ignore what he was going through? Her own entity already forced her to see and hear the dead against her will. But for Jimmy, Hugo took full control, locking him inside his own body, making him witness the chaos and death he unleashed.
"How can you say something like that?" says Maya, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and disappointment.
"Pretty easily, after he locked me in a meat freezer!"
Camille, sitting not far off, looks uncomfortable, her gaze flicking nervously between the two of them, unable to find the words to ease the rising tension.
Maya slowly nods, arms crossed tightly against her chest.
"Hugo locked you in... not Jimmy. Hugo. He forces him. He controls him. Jimmy is a victim, just like the rest of us. Killing him won't solve anything—the entity will just find another host, and it'll all start over again."
"Or maybe he's just a lunatic like I've said from the start, and putting him down will get rid of a dangerous maniac. Come on, Maya, you saw what he did to Jeffrey! And to Jenks! What did he do to you down there that made you suddenly so eager to defend him?"
She stares Maya down with an accusatory glare, an inquisitive glint cutting through her sharp tone. The young woman feels her stomach twist under the weight of that look, but what unsettles her more is Camille's silence. She hasn't spoken up to defend her. She even looks away slightly. Maya clenches her fists and swallows hard. She was right to keep quiet.
"I'm just trying not to pick the wrong enemy," she finally murmurs, avoiding their piercing gazes. "I just want to get out of here… and still be able to look at myself in the mirror."
A heavy silence follows. Harriet seems to be searching for a biting comeback, but nothing comes. Jenks walks over to them just then, handing Maya his phone with a tired smile.
"Okay, backup's on the way. I didn't go into detail—just said Ashford and his goons were holding us hostage. Is… everything alright?"
The tension in the room is palpable, a near-suffocating weight pressing down on everyone. Maya, tense, answers in a dark, clipped tone.
"Just fine."
She adds nothing more, deliberately avoiding a pointless argument. Pivoting on her heels, she heads toward the dresser barricading the door. The muscles in her arms strain as she begins to push it slowly aside.
"Maya, what are you doing?" Camille asks, worried.
Without even turning, Maya replies with icy calm.
"I saw Simon in one of the rooms. He was still wearing his mask. That means he's under the control of one of the ghosts. He's vulnerable—we need to bring him back."
"And risk running into Jimmy again? No way!" exclaims Harriet as she suddenly gets to her feet.
She walks over to the bed and sits down heavily, arms crossed with obvious determination.
"Sorry for Simon, but he's on his own."
Maya freezes, her fingers tightening against the wood of the dresser. She turns slightly, her dark eyes fixed on Harriet.
"Listen, while we wait for backup, we need to be able to defend ourselves. You know we can't just sit here doing nothing."
"Defend ourselves, my ass!" snaps the journalist, raising her voice, her gaze sharp as daggers. "We hide, we stay still, and we keep as quiet as possible. That's it."
"I… I think I agree with her," murmurs Camille timidly, breaking the silence.
Her eyes dart away, showing just how uncomfortable she is with her stance, yet she remains withdrawn, as if reluctant to get further involved.
Jenks steps in then, his voice calm as he raises his hands to diffuse the tension.
"I get that we want to avoid trouble, but Maya's right. Simon could be an asset. If we bring him back here, he can help. One more pair of hands could make all the difference. Strength in numbers."
"And his ghost might have valuable information to help us fight Hugo," Maya adds quickly.
But at those words, Harriet snaps. She jumps to her feet, her face flushed with anger, her voice shaking with barely restrained hysteria.
"Enough with this! I don't want to hear another word about possessions, ghosts, or any of your paranormal nonsense! It's insane! I don't know what happened to Camille—I'm not saying you're lying, sweetheart—but this is absolutely absurd!"
Maya feels her patience fraying, fury rumbling in her chest. She steps forward, fists clenched.
"You have no idea what you're talking about," she fires back, her voice rising.
"Oh, really?" Harriet sneers, adopting a mocking tone. "Well then, let's run a little experiment, shall we?"
Before anyone can react, Harriet crosses the room and heads toward a dark corner. She bends down and picks up her mask, clearly thrown there earlier in a moment of frustration.
"Look!" she challenges. "I'm going to put it on and—"
"Harriet, no!" Maya and Jenks cry out in unison.
The silence that follows is dreadful.
Harriet freezes instantly. Her arms drop limply to her sides, and her head tilts slowly to the side, resting against her shoulder at a strange angle. Her breathing becomes suddenly slow, almost peaceful, as if she had fallen asleep standing up.
"Shit…" Jenks mutters under his breath.
The inspector and Maya exchange a long, loaded glance, their expressions caught between apprehension and resignation. Beside them, Camille remains frozen, her gaze locked on Harriet—or rather, on whatever now seems to be inhabiting her body. She scans her from head to toe, desperately trying to make sense of the strange sight unfolding before her.
"Was I like that too?" she asks at last, her voice trembling, almost a whisper.
Maya nods slowly in her direction, lips pressed into a thin line. Still, a small part of her finds a sliver of consolation in all this: Harriet had finally gone quiet. She swallows the guilty feeling and steps forward cautiously, her movements measured and calm, careful not to trigger anything unpredictable.
"Who's there?"
Against all expectations, a deep voice echoes—a man's voice, rough, strong, and entirely unlike Harriet's.
"Hello?"
The sound stops everyone cold. Maya freezes mid-step, Jenks' eyes widen, and Camille hugs her arms tighter around herself. Impossible. That voice couldn't be Harriet's. It was far too deep, too… masculine.
"Is it her who…" Camille begins, her words hanging in the air. "Or the mask that…"
"I have no idea," Jenks growls, staring at the scene in utter disbelief.
His eyes flick quickly from Harriet to Maya, a spark of pragmatism flashing behind a clear and growing fear.
"I don't think it's necessary to question another ghost, Maya. We'll be out of this soon enough—we just need to be patient and keep a low profile. Especially now that Jeffrey and Ashford are down, and Robert's incapacitated and hiding who-knows-where. All we have to do is avoid Hugo."
"Ashford is still out there somewhere…" Maya warns, unconvinced.
"I doubt she'll be much of a threat."
He gestures for her to come to the window, and she sees the psychiatrist, after clearly having tried to escape by car, now struggling to get her vehicle out of the snow, the tires spinning uselessly.
"I saw her trying her luck while I was on the phone," Jenks observes from above, shaking his head slowly. "Her best option now is to crank the heat and wait it out."
"Robert said Ryan Rand was on his way, and I doubt he's coming alone…" Maya reminds him. "Can you guarantee your colleagues will arrive first?"
This time, Jenks says nothing, his gaze fixed on Ashford as she slams her car door in frustration before attempting to shovel out the snow in front of her tires. Maya moves past him and approaches Harriet, Camille beside her.
"Besides, the ghosts in this place promised to help us in return for ours… and until backup gets here, Hugo is still a problem. A serious one."
She suppresses a shiver as the memory of his hands and lips on her body resurfaces, of that pressing, ravenous hunger he exuded every time he got close. She pushes the thoughts aside. Focus. Don't think about it.
"What do you think they could still teach us?" Jenks asks, rubbing his forehead.
"You wanted to understand the entity's motives, why he takes control and does all of this. But I think the more important question is… why this family? Why these specific people? Why Hugo and not his older sister Agatha? Why Jimmy?"
Why me? But she keeps that last question to herself.
Jenks hesitates for a moment longer, but she can tell he sees the logic in what she's saying. He eventually nods slowly.
"Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. But let's not do anything that could compromise everyone's safety, all right? Not when help is on the way. Do… your magic, Maya."
He finishes with a vague wave of his hand, as if giving her permission to proceed. The young woman nods and carefully steps closer to Harriet.
"All right… What's your name?"
"Sergeant Follin, from the town of Hexham."
The tone is direct, precise, authoritative. Maya blinks, surprised. Behind her, Jenks raises an eyebrow, his incredulous expression shifting to outright astonishment.
"A police officer?"
"So it seems. Until what year did you serve, Sergeant?"
"1867…"
"We've gone back a bit further than expected," Jenks observes, his arched brow and trace of irony barely softening the gravity of the situation.
Camille turns away from Harriet's frozen form to look at Maya with a mix of apprehension and impatience.
"What now?" she asks.
"We connect the dots until we find something concrete," Maya replies, her tone firm but composed. "If he's haunting this place, it means he died here."
She pauses, weighing her words, then gently asks the next question:
"What brought you to Blackmere Estate?"
The silence that follows is so heavy, one could hear a pin drop. Camille squints, her brows furrowing deeper as the unease settles in.
"Why isn't he answering?" she asks, a hint of anxiety in her voice.
"Probably because he can't give us the answer that easily," Maya tilts her head slightly, her thoughts still racing as she tries to make sense of what's happening. "Talking to spirits isn't a linear conversation. It's more like… following a path through memories."
Jenks nods slowly, thoughtful, then crosses his arms.
"So we need to find the starting point," he concludes with a sigh, before giving her a half-smile. "A little one-on-one with your magic rock?"
Maya nods and begins rummaging through her pockets. Her fingers linger longer than usual, her mind suddenly worried. What if Hugo took her things? But no—much to her relief, the obsidian stone is still there.
She takes a small step back, holding it between her trembling fingers, and stares into its smooth, black surface. As she focuses on it, she tries to quiet the thoughts still buzzing in her mind, reaching for clarity. The whispers in her head grow louder, a cacophony of voices trying to speak all at once, but she pushes them back with fierce concentration.
She takes a deep breath, her pupils sinking into the darkness of the sphere. Slowly, images begin to emerge—blurry at first, but sharpening the deeper she goes. A massive figure appears, imposing, with a stern gaze. Sergeant Follin, she guesses.
Surprisingly, he is not alone. A shadow moves with him, indistinct, as if someone is walking just behind him. Maya frowns. This is new. Until now, her visions have never shown figures this blurry, this elusive.
Suddenly, both figures vanish, and the manor rises into view in all its grandeur—imposing, dark, oppressive. A door creaks open, the sound almost echoing in her mind, and she immediately recognizes the room she sees: Ashford's bedroom. Details flood in, precise. The vision ends on newspaper clippings pasted into some kind of scrapbook, before falling into darkness.
Maya blinks and comes back to herself, the whispers fading gradually. She realizes Jenks and Camille are watching her closely, waiting for an answer.
"Well?" Jenks asks, breaking the silence.
She looks up at them, her expression grave.
"Ashford's room. Close by. Thankfully, we don't have to go downstairs."
Camille winces slightly, her shoulders tensing.
"Thankfully?" she asks in a hesitant voice, fearing the answer.
Maya averts her gaze for a moment before replying, her voice tinged with guilt and apprehension.
"I left Hugo in the library… angry. After I hit him with a bat and knocked him into a wall with a sigil carved into it… before running off."
"Right…" Jenks makes a small grimace. "Well, I suppose wishing him a pleasant evening and walking out politely wasn't exactly an option."
Maya gives a tense smile at his attempt at humor.
"Apparently not."
Maya slips a hand into another pocket of her jeans and pulls out the magnetic key. She walks straight to the mirror, carefully avoiding meeting her own reflection, afraid of seeing her "other self" staring back.
"Camille, can you help me? We'll need to guide Harriet."
"Oh… sure…" the young woman nods, clearly still shaken.
With a soft metallic click, Maya unlocks the mirror, and the reflective surface shifts open quietly. Camille, holding Harriet's limp, sleeping body, hesitates for a second before carefully guiding her into the passage. Meanwhile, Jenks steps beside Maya, his hand brushing her shoulder as he speaks in a low voice.
"Did something happen with Hugo? Are you sure he..."
"Nothing happened," she cuts in, her voice a little firmer than she intended. "I was... out of it. And when I came to, he was just about to beat the crap out of Ashford."
She holds his gaze as best she can, but she feels him watching her closely. His slightly furrowed brows betray his doubt, but he doesn't press her further.
"Alright... whatever the case, I'm here, Maya."
Those simple words throw her off for a moment.
"I know," she murmurs, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine."
Sensing she might give herself away if she looks at him any longer, she steps quickly into the passage behind Camille and Harriet, her footsteps echoing faintly against the walls. Behind her, Jenks remains still for a moment, watching her with a worry he can't quite hide, before gently closing the mirror behind them.
They walk through the narrow corridors, their steps softly tapping against the cold stone floor. Maya takes the lead, her fingers grazing the walls, trying to remember the path she took before. These passages are beginning to feel familiar, but she stays alert. Camille, meanwhile, looks around with a mixture of curiosity and unease.
"The first night I spent here, I swear I heard noises inside the walls," she confides, her voice a little distant. "When I mentioned it to Ashford the next day, she said it was probably just mice... right."
A slight smile tugs at the corner of Maya's lips, though her mind stays focused on where they're headed. They pass through the room with the children's paintings, still filled with remnants of happier memories—a cruel contrast to the current atmosphere of the manor.
"I'd be curious to know the purpose of these corridors..." Jenks comments, his voice echoing slightly in the tight space. "Maybe the original rooms were bigger, and these were added in later."
"If there are the same mirrors in every bedroom, maybe it was so people could observe without being seen?" Camille suggests, her tone hesitant but curious.
"Or lock someone inside... and make them watch."
Maya drops the words in a low, almost neutral voice, without slowing down or turning around. Her sentence sinks into the air like stones into water, and a heavy silence falls in their wake.
"What a horrible thing..." Camille murmurs quietly behind her.
Maya tenses slightly. Her mind races for a second. If they were feeling sympathy for this… maybe she could explain? Maybe they would understand? But she shakes the thought away, mentally pushing herself to stay focused. Not now.
She hesitates for a moment, thinking about sending a message to Hannah. The girl had blown up her phone with calls. But she holds back. The ghosts had warned them against bringing more people here—Hugo would use them. Bad idea. And besides, she refuses to drag anyone else into this mess… including herself.
She takes a deep breath to steady herself just as they finally reach the mirror in Ashford's room.
The room looks far more chaotic than it did the first time she passed through. Books and papers are scattered across the floor, the desk drawers ripped open—no doubt the result of Robert and Jeffrey's earlier search. Maya unlocks the passage, and everyone steps inside.
"What are we looking for, Maya?" Jenks asks, by now used to the routine.
"Newspapers... records, I think."
She moves toward the desk, which is buried under a mountain of books and documents. There's a bit of everything: volumes on demonology and the paranormal lie alongside medical files describing experimental therapeutic techniques. The margins are covered in dense, hastily scribbled handwriting. Ashford clearly took obsessive notes.
Meanwhile, Jenks and Camille push aside some armchairs to search through an enormous wooden bookshelf that takes up an entire wall. The girl gently settles Harriet on the rumpled bed before joining the inspector.
On her end, Maya comes across a stack of papers held together by a single paperclip. As she flips through the pages, her eyes catch on a name. Annie. A list of names. Notes detail the test subjects of previous Phoenix sessions.
Maya reads, a knot forming in her stomach. Many of the participants were sent home in terrible shape. Some had been heavily medicated for severe depressive symptoms, others hospitalized for serious physical complications. And a few—including Annie—ended up taking their own lives.
Maya's heart clenches. Ashford had marked these deaths as successes, calling them perfect for "covering Phoenix's tracks." The words burn. A cold, quiet fury rises inside her, and for a second, she catches herself wishing she'd brought the bat down on Ashford's skull. She clenches her jaw. No. That won't bring Annie back. Or any of the others. At least Ashford is still outside, freezing in the cold.
With a shaky sigh, she pushes the list out of her line of sight, nudging it away with her fingertips like she can push away the weight it carries.
"I think I found something!" Camille calls out in a clear voice.