Ethan woke up on the floor.

  His mouth was dry. His limbs were stiff. The room was empty—no furniture, no TV, no door. Just four blank walls and the echo of his own breathing.

  He didn’t remember falling asleep. Or passing out. Or how he even got here.

  He stood slowly. His phone was in his pocket, but the screen was black. Dead. No matter how long he held the button, it wouldn’t turn on.

  There was no light source. Yet he could see.

  Somewhere in the room, something whispered.

  He turned. Nothing. Just the walls.

  Then the lights went out.

  Darkness swallowed him whole—instant, suffocating.

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  Ethan's breath caught. He held still. Waited.

  A soft click. Then another. Footsteps? No... tapping. Like nails on tile.

  The walls began to breathe. In and out, a slow pulse. He reached out and felt the surface flex beneath his fingers—warm, like skin.

  His heart pounded. He pressed his back to the opposite wall, trying to stay grounded. Trying to hold onto something real.

  And then—

  A voice.

  Not in the room. Not from outside. Inside his head.

  "You’re not supposed to be here."

  Ethan flinched. "Who are you?"

  No reply. Just silence. Then the lights returned—brighter now, almost surgical.

  The room had changed.

  There was a door again. But it was made of mirrors. Dozens of them, pieced together in jagged fragments, reflecting him from every angle. Each reflection was wrong. Some moved out of sync. Some stared back with empty eyes.

  He stepped closer. The mirror-door trembled.

  In one shard, he saw the Faceless Man standing behind him.

  Ethan spun around. Nothing.

  When he looked back, his own reflection was gone.

  In its place: a blank silhouette. Head tilted. Watching.

  And then—words etched across the glass in dripping black:

  “REMEMBER WHAT YOU FORGOT.”

  The door clicked open.

  And Ethan stepped through.