Mara did not sleep.
She tried.
At eleven forty-three, she made tea.
At midnight, she checked every lock in the house.
At twelve seventeen, she checked them again.
At twelve forty, she searched the internet for every combination of words she could think of.
Blackridge Station.
Nothing.
Veyra.
Thousands of results appeared, but none described the world she had seen.
Veyra was apparently the name of a city in several countries, a pharmaceutical company, a video game character, and at least three fictional kingdoms.
None of them had dead forests under violet skies.
None of them had monsters that looked like they had been assembled from nightmares.
She tried again.
Meridian Project.
Research papers.
Engineering companies.
A university program.
A satellite project.
Nothing.
Mara leaned back in the kitchen chair.
“Of course.”
She rubbed her eyes.
“Because apparently alternate dimensions don’t have websites.”
Her laptop screen glowed in the dark kitchen.
The refrigerator hummed.
The old house settled around her with small noises.
Wood contracting.
Pipes ticking.
Wind pressing against the windows.
Normal sounds.
She desperately wanted them to be normal.
Her eyes drifted toward the hallway.
The staircase disappeared into darkness.
Beyond it was the upstairs room.
And the mirror.
Mara closed the laptop.
“No.”
She stood.
She walked upstairs.
“Nope.”
She kept walking.
“Absolutely not.”
She reached the hallway.
The locked room waited at the end.
Mara stared at the door.
Then she sighed.
“Fine.”
She opened it.
The mirror stood exactly where she had left it.
It reflected the empty room.
Nothing strange.
No ruined station.
No man.
No monster.
Mara approached cautiously.
She held up her hand.
Her reflection copied her.
“Good.”
She lowered her hand.
“Normal.”
Nothing happened.
Mara took another step.
Still nothing.
She exhaled.
Maybe it had been some kind of electrical phenomenon.
A hallucination caused by exhaustion.
Stress.
Old glass.
Anything.
She turned around.
Then she heard a voice.
“You’re back.”
Mara spun.
The mirror had changed.
The ruined station was there again.
And so was the man.
He was standing several feet away from the glass.
His rifle was gone.
His expression was wary.
Mara stared.
He stared back.
“You can hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Mara folded her arms.
“You shot something.”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“A Hollower.”
“What’s a Hollower?”
“Something you don’t want in your house.”
“That’s not an explanation.”
“It’s the important part.”
Mara stared at him.
He stared back.
Then, unexpectedly, the corner of his mouth moved.
Barely.
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m standing in front of a mirror that shows another world.”
“Fair.”
Mara studied him.
He looked exhausted.
There were dark circles beneath his amber eyes.
A thin scar crossed one eyebrow.
His clothes looked practical rather than military—reinforced boots, dark trousers, a weathered jacket with several pockets.
He looked like someone who had been living outdoors for too long.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“I told you.”
“No.
You told me to get away from the mirror.”
“I also told you my name.”
“You did?”
“Elias.”
“Oh.”
She felt slightly embarrassed.
“I was distracted by the monster.”
“Understandable.”
Mara almost smiled.
Almost.
“What is this place?”
“Blackridge Station.”
“Where?”
“Veyra.”
“Country?”
Elias paused.
“World.”
Mara stared at him.
He stared back.
“You’re serious.”
“Very.”
She took a slow breath.
“Okay.”
Elias leaned closer to the glass.
“You’re from Aurelia.”
Mara’s stomach tightened.
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t.”
“Then why did you say it?”
“Because the station records mention it.”
Mara looked at the ruined room behind him.
“What station records?”
“Old research records.”
“Research into what?”
Elias hesitated.
“The Meridian Project.”
Mara’s pulse quickened.
She thought about the attic.
The strange symbol.
Her grandmother’s handwriting.
Do not open the door.
“Who were the Meridian researchers?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“Most records were destroyed.”
“By whom?”
“The Falling.”
Mara waited.
Elias seemed to realize she had no idea what he meant.
“You don’t know what The Falling was.”
“No.”
He studied her face.
“Then your world is lucky.”
Mara sat on the floor.
She didn’t remember deciding to.
Elias remained standing on the other side of the glass.
“The Falling happened seven years ago,” he said.
“What happened?”
“Everything.”
The word was quiet.
Mara waited.
“Seven years ago, the sky changed.
There were bands of light across the atmosphere.
Electronics began malfunctioning.
Power grids failed.
Communications disappeared.”
“An EMP?”
“No.”
“Solar flare?”
“No.”
“What, then?”
Elias looked away.
“Reality.”
Mara frowned.
“Reality?”
“It started behaving differently.”
He pointed toward the window behind him.
“At first, people thought it was atmospheric interference.
Then buildings began developing structural anomalies.
Roads changed.
Distances stopped behaving normally in some places.”
Mara swallowed.
“That’s impossible.”
“I know.”
“You’re saying roads got longer?”
“Sometimes.”
“Sometimes?”
“Sometimes shorter.”
Mara stared at him.
“And then?”
“Plants changed.”
“How?”
“They grew faster.
Larger.
Some became aggressive.”
Mara thought of the thing she had seen.
“And animals?”
Elias’s expression hardened.
“Changed too.”
Mara looked down.
“What happened to people?”
“Some adapted.”
“Adapted?”
“Some developed resistance to Aether.”
“Aether?”
“An energy field that appeared after The Falling.”
Mara was silent.
Elias continued.
“Others didn’t.”
She looked back at him.
“How many people are left?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
“I don’t know.”
That answer frightened her more than any number could have.
For a while, neither spoke.
Mara looked at the mirror.
The distance between them was only a few inches of glass.
Yet their worlds were separated by something impossible.
She wondered how many people were standing on the other side.
How many had families.
How many had homes.
How many were hungry.
“You said some people adapted.”
“Yes.”
“Are you one of them?”
Elias nodded.
“What can you do?”
“Nothing impressive.”
“You’re standing in another dimension.”
“That’s the mirror.”
“You’re not answering.”
He sighed.
“I can sense structural instability.”
Mara blinked.
“Meaning?”
“I can tell when something is about to collapse.”
“Buildings?”
“Buildings.
Ground.
Sometimes Aether disturbances.”
“That sounds useful.”
“It is.”
He looked toward the ceiling.
“Usually.”
Mara noticed something.
“How long have you been alone?”
“I’m not.”
She looked behind him.
The station appeared empty.
“You have people?”
“Some.”
“How many?”
“Eight.”
“Eight?”
“Nine, if you count the dog.”
Mara smiled.
“There is a dog?”
“His name is Copper.”
“Is he friendly?”
“Only when he wants something.”
“Sounds familiar.”
Elias looked at her.
For the first time, Mara saw something warm in his expression.
“You have a dog?”
“No.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“My mother.”
He laughed.
It was brief.
But real.
Mara smiled.
The tension in her shoulders eased slightly.
“Can objects pass through?”
The question came naturally.
Elias looked at the mirror.
“We don’t know.”
“Have you tried?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I didn’t know the connection existed until tonight.”
Mara stood.
“What happens if I touch it?”
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“It’s the truth.”
Mara looked at her reflection.
Then at Elias.
“What happens if something living crosses?”
“We don’t know.”
“Can you cross?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can I?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can the monster cross?”
Elias’s expression became serious.
“We should assume it can.”
Mara immediately stepped away from the mirror.
“Excellent.”
“That’s why we need rules.”
“Agreed.”
She found an old notebook on the table and opened it.
Elias watched her.
“What are you doing?”
“Making rules.”
“For what?”
“For this.”
She held up the notebook.
“If we’re going to keep talking, we need rules.”
Elias considered this.
“Fine.”
Mara wrote.
Rule One: Tell each other if something dangerous is happening.
“Reasonable,” Elias said.
Rule Two: Don’t disappear without warning.
Elias looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t know anything about your world.”
“And you don’t know anything about mine.”
“Exactly.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
Mara wrote the third.
Rule Three: We don’t experiment with living things.
Elias immediately agreed.
“Good.”
She looked at him.
“You sound relieved.”
“I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I was afraid you’d suggest sending a chicken through.”
Mara stared.
“I wasn’t.”
“You considered it.”
“I absolutely did not.”
“You thought about it.”
“For approximately two seconds.”
Elias smiled.
Mara pointed her pen at him.
“Don’t get smug.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were.”
“I was.”
She shook her head.
Then added another rule.
Rule Four: We don’t open anything we don’t understand.
Elias’s expression changed.
“What?”
“The rule.”
“Keep that one.”
Mara frowned.
“You recognize it?”
He looked at her.
“Yes.”
“From where?”
“The Meridian symbol.”
Mara’s heart skipped.
“What about it?”
Elias stepped closer to the glass.
“My station has sealed lower levels.”
“So?”
“The doors carry the same symbol.”
Mara stared at him.
“And?”
“Something was written beside one of them.”
“What?”
Elias hesitated.
Then he said:
“Meridian is awake.”
The room seemed colder.
Mara slowly lowered the notebook.
“That’s exactly what my grandfather wrote.”
Elias went still.
“What?”
Mara turned toward the mirror.
“I found his notebooks.”
“What did they say?”
“Meridian is awake.”
Neither spoke.
Then the mirror flickered.
Once.
Twice.
The image distorted.
For an instant, Mara saw geometric lines spread across the glass.
A circle.
Four intersecting shapes.
The same symbol from her grandmother’s notebook.
Then everything went dark.
Elias disappeared.
Mara’s reflection returned.
She stared at herself.
“Hello?”
Nothing.
She touched the glass.
Cold.
Normal.
“Elias?”
No answer.
Mara waited.
Ten seconds.
Twenty.
She checked the mirror again.
Nothing.
Then—
knock.
Mara froze.
The sound had come from downstairs.
She slowly turned toward the doorway.
Another knock.
Knock.
Her heart began pounding.
She grabbed the nearest thing she could find.
A heavy wooden candlestick.
A third knock came.
Knock.
Mara stared into the darkness beyond the room.
Then her phone rang.
She nearly screamed.
The screen showed no number.
Just one word.
UNKNOWN.
She didn’t answer.
The ringing stopped.
For several seconds, the house was completely silent.
Then the mirror behind her flickered.
Mara turned.
A message appeared across the glass.
Not from Elias.
Not in English.
A sequence of symbols formed.
Then, slowly, the symbols changed.
Four numbers appeared.
01
02
03
04
Mara stared at them.
The mirror went black.
And from somewhere downstairs—
something knocked again.
Knock.
This time, Mara was certain.
The sound had come from inside the house.