Mara did not answer the phone.
She didn’t answer the knock either.
She stood in the upstairs hallway with a wooden candlestick in one hand and her phone in the other, listening to the silence.
Nothing.
No footsteps.
No breathing.
No scratching.
Just the faint hum of the refrigerator downstairs.
Normal.
Almost.
Mara slowly walked toward the staircase.
Every step complained beneath her weight.
She stopped at the top.
The hallway below was dark.
“Hello?”
Her voice sounded embarrassingly small.
No answer.
She tightened her grip on the candlestick.
“If you’re a burglar,” she whispered, “I should warn you that I’m extremely annoying.”
Silence.
“And I know where the kitchen knives are.”
Still nothing.
Mara descended the stairs.
One step.
Two.
Three.
She reached the bottom.
The front door was locked.
The back door was locked.
Every window was shut.
She checked the kitchen.
Empty.
Living room.
Empty.
Pantry.
Empty.
She opened the coat closet.
Nothing except an old broom.
Mara stared at it.
“You are not helping.”
The broom remained silent.
She returned upstairs.
The mirror was waiting.
Its surface was dark.
Mara approached.
“Elias?”
Nothing.
She waited.
Then—
a flicker.
The ruined station appeared.
Elias was standing directly in front of the mirror.
“Mara.”
She nearly dropped the candlestick.
“Where were you?”
His eyebrows lifted.
“The connection disappeared.”
“I noticed.”
“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You don’t sound fine.”
“You disappeared.”
“So did you.”
“I was standing right here.”
“So was I.”
They stared at each other.
Then Mara laughed.
It was nervous and slightly hysterical.
Elias smiled faintly.
“You’re still holding the candlestick.”
“You have a rifle.”
“Fair.”
She set it down.
“What happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“The mirror just went black.”
“It did the same thing here.”
“Then it came back.”
“Yes.”
Mara looked at the glass.
“Those numbers appeared.”
Elias nodded.
“I saw them.”
“01, 02, 03, 04.”
“Yes.”
“What do they mean?”
“I don’t know.”
“You’re not very useful tonight.”
“I’ve been told that.”
Mara smiled despite herself.
Then she remembered something.
“Wait.”
She ran downstairs.
“Where are you going?” Elias called.
“One second.”
She returned carrying the black metal cylinder from her grandfather’s trunk.
Elias’s expression changed immediately.
“That.”
“Yes.”
“Where did you get it?”
“My grandfather’s things.”
“You said he wrote about Meridian.”
“He did.”
Mara held the cylinder up to the mirror.
The symbol on its side was identical to the one that had appeared in the glass.
Elias moved closer.
“I’ve seen that.”
“Where?”
“On a door beneath Blackridge.”
“The sealed level.”
“Yes.”
Mara’s fingers tightened around the cylinder.
“What is inside?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you tried opening it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I prefer being alive.”
“Reasonable.”
Elias glanced at the cylinder.
“Don’t open that yet.”
Mara frowned.
“You said the same thing about the lower level.”
“Because I mean it.”
“So what do we do?”
Elias looked at her.
“We learn.”
Mara smiled.
“Good answer.”
The next morning, Mara made a decision.
If the mirror was real, then she needed to understand it.
If Elias was real, then he needed supplies.
And if Veyra was really as dangerous as he claimed, there was one thing she could do immediately.
Feed someone.
She opened the kitchen cabinets.
Rice.
Beans.
Salt.
Coffee.
Dried fruit.
Canned vegetables.
Medicine.
Bandages.
Matches.
She arranged everything across the table.
Then she found a small luggage scale.
Mara placed the items into a canvas bag.
The scale climbed.
1.2 kilograms.
She added coffee.
1.4.
Two cans of beans.
1.8.
Three apples.
1.95.
She removed one apple.
1.86.
Mara looked at the bag.
“Perfect.”
She wasn’t sure why she felt nervous.
It was only food.
Yet she had never packed a grocery bag with such care.
She added a handwritten note.
For Elias.
Mara.
She stared at it.
Then added:
Coffee first.
You’re welcome.
She smiled.
At exactly nine in the morning, she stood before the mirror.
“Elias?”
The glass shimmered.
He appeared.
He looked surprised.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning.”
“Did you sleep?”
“No.”
“Me neither.”
Mara lifted the bag.
“I have something for you.”
His expression became cautious.
“What is it?”
“Food.”
He stared.
“For what?”
“For you.”
“Mara—”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Mara shrugged.
“Because I have enough.”
Elias looked at the bag.
Something in his expression softened.
“How much?”
“Under two kilograms.”
“Why?”
“I weighed it.”
“Why would you weigh it?”
“Because if we’re experimenting with dimensional objects, I thought we should start with measurable limits.”
Elias blinked.
“You made rules.”
“Several.”
“And now you’re measuring things.”
“Yes.”
He nodded slowly.
“I like you.”
Mara paused.
“What?”
“I said I like your method.”
“Oh.”
Her face felt warm.
“Right.”
Elias smiled.
Mara pretended not to notice.
She held the bag toward the glass.
“How do we do this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Wonderful.”
“Put it against the mirror.”
She did.
Nothing happened.
“Now what?”
“Push.”
“I am pushing.”
“Harder.”
“I am pushing hard.”
“Try turning it.”
“Why would turning it—”
The bag disappeared.
Mara stumbled forward.
“What?”
On the other side, Elias was holding it.
Neither of them spoke.
He looked at the bag.
Then at Mara.
Then back at the bag.
Mara slowly lowered her hand.
“It worked.”
Elias stared at the food.
“It worked.”
He opened the bag.
His expression changed when he saw the coffee.
“You sent coffee.”
“Yes.”
He picked up the package as if it were something precious.
“I haven’t had this in two years.”
Mara’s smile faded.
“Two years?”
“Regularly.”
He opened the package.
The smell filled the room on his side of the connection.
Elias closed his eyes.
For a moment, the hardened survivor disappeared.
He was simply a tired man remembering what ordinary life had once felt like.
“Thank you,” he said.
Mara looked away.
“You’re welcome.”
He sent something back.
A small black stone.
It fit neatly in Mara’s palm.
“What’s this?”
“Aetherite.”
She held it up.
The stone seemed ordinary at first.
Black.
Smooth.
Almost glasslike.
Then a faint blue light moved beneath its surface.
Mara’s fingers tingled.
She immediately dropped it.
Elias went rigid.
“Don’t touch it.”
“I just did.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Any burning?”
“No.”
“Dizziness?”
“No.”
“Nausea?”
“No.”
Elias stared at her.
“What?”
“Most people can’t touch raw Aetherite.”
“Why?”
“It reacts with Aether.”
“Am I supposed to have Aether?”
“I don’t know.”
Mara looked at the stone.
The faint light inside it pulsed once.
“What does it do?”
“Stores energy.”
“Like a battery?”
“Something like that.”
“How valuable is it?”
Elias gave a humorless laugh.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“Extremely.”
“How extremely?”
“Enough that someone would kill for it.”
Mara stared.
She looked at the little black stone.
Then at him.
“You sent me something people would kill for?”
“I didn’t know if you could use it.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know.”
“Elias.”
“I’m sorry.”
Mara sighed.
“You really need to work on your gift choices.”
“I’ll remember that.”
They spent the next hour talking.
Not about the mirror.
Not about Meridian.
Not about monsters.
They talked about food.
Mara told him tomatoes grew easily in Bellwood.
Elias told her tomatoes had become nearly impossible to cultivate in Veyra.
She told him about her grandfather’s potato fields.
He told her that some Veyran crops now grew three times faster but produced poisonous fruit.
She described rain.
He described Aether storms.
She talked about electricity.
He told her Blackridge’s solar panels were failing.
They were trading more than objects.
They were trading pieces of their worlds.
Then Elias became serious.
“Mara.”
“Yes?”
“If you’re going to keep doing this, you need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Nothing is free.”
She nodded.
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
“You have resources my world doesn’t.”
“And you have resources mine doesn’t.”
“That makes this dangerous.”
Mara looked at the black stone.
“Because someone might want what we have.”
“Yes.”
She considered that.
Then she smiled.
“Then we don’t give it to them.”
Elias stared at her.
“You say that like it’s simple.”
“No.”
Mara looked toward the fields outside.
“It’s just necessary.”
That evening, Mara returned to the mirror.
She brought the black cylinder.
Elias was waiting.
“I found something.”
“What?”
Mara held up the cylinder.
“When I touched the Aetherite, it reacted.”
Elias’s eyes narrowed.
“What did it do?”
“It got warm.”
“Anything else?”
“The mirror flickered.”
He stepped closer.
“Again?”
“Yes.”
Mara placed the Aetherite beside the cylinder.
The mirror immediately changed.
Lines appeared across the glass.
Geometric patterns.
Circles.
Four intersecting symbols.
Elias whispered something in Veyran.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
“Elias.”
He looked at her.
“I said we need to stop.”
The image distorted.
For a second, Mara saw a massive circular structure beneath the ground.
Then four points of light appeared around it.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
The Meridian symbol appeared in the center.
Then words formed across the glass.
CONNECTION ESTABLISHED.
Mara’s breath caught.
Elias stepped back.
“Don’t touch anything.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
The mirror went dark.
Silence.
Mara looked at Elias.
“Did you see that?”
“Yes.”
“The four points?”
“Yes.”
“What are they?”
“I don’t know.”
“You said that very quickly.”
“Because I don’t.”
Mara stared at the black glass.
The number four had appeared twice now.
Four symbols.
Four lights.
Four numbers.
She thought of her grandmother’s warning.
Do not open the door.
Then she remembered the whisper from the night before.
Four.
Mara swallowed.
“Elias.”
“Yes?”
“What if four isn’t a number?”
His face became unreadable.
“What do you think it is?”
Mara looked at the mirror.
“I think it’s a warning.”
The glass pulsed once.
And somewhere deep inside Whitmore House—
something answered.
Knock.
Mara and Elias stared at each other.
Neither of them spoke.
Then came the second knock.
Knock.
And finally—
a third.
Knock.
Mara slowly reached for the candlestick.
Elias reached for his rifle.
The mirror remained dark.
But beneath its glass, four tiny points of light appeared.
And one of them was moving.
END OF CHAPTER THREE