Now we are at the front of the parish. An ominous feeling permeates the air. It feels like destiny is beckoning me to come here. This, in essence, is my destined end—the tombstone, the door... yet it also feels like I’m on the verge of another day, something screaming to be born. This will be my greatest achievement.

  I say these things to boost my morale. It may be wishful thinking, but I need every advantage I can get.

  I glance to the right—Lex stands with two buckets, and I myself hold two more. A total of four. Nothing more.

  Lex is armed. I have the monocle and the glove. All the tools are ready.

  I feel its presence. It’s there, inside, waiting.

  The faceless man.

  It knows that this is my destiny. It knows more than it lets on.

  Now is the time for change.

  +++

  I kick the door open, desecrating the sacredness of this place. Lex and I enter—it looks normal at first. There's a figure sitting on one of the pews, twitching and murmuring, like it's in communion with something.

  I signal to Lex and spill a bucket of water at the entrance. The creature doesn’t react—it either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care.

  Lex moves to the other side, silent as a ghost. He hides one bucket beneath a pew, then slips toward the back exit and spills another, sealing the way.

  I approach the murmuring figure with my last bucket in hand. As I draw closer, I hear the whispers in an inhuman voice:

  "Yes, almost done."

  "No, haven’t found it."

  "Yes, the key is near."

  "Thank you. Now it’s my time to fulfill the role."

  The creature stops twitching and unnaturally turns its head toward me.

  "Ahhh, I needed you. Let us fulfill our part again and join in the mending of the consistency of our realm. This time, you brought a friend."

  After speaking, the creature clutches its mirror.

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  Something big is happening. I’m shitting bricks.

  The interior of the parish begins to shift.

  Dark sun iconography replaces the old décor. The paintings twist into reflective mirrors. The doors morph into towering, seamless glass—mirror-bound exits.

  Only the puddles of water remain untouched.

  Then, in a voice identical to mine, the creature speaks menacingly:

  "Now... no escape."

  It steps forward.

  "I'll cut that hand before it interferes again."

  And it begins its approach.

  It’s getting closer. I'm trembling—it's looking at me with all the malice of a daemon, signaling my finality. The whispers return, horrible voices filling my ears. It's almost within grabbing distance.

  But then, in defiance, I show it the bucket.

  Its reflection distorts in the rippling water. It shrieks and stumbles backward, grasping its mirror. I quickly put on the monocle. Through it, I see—the mirror by the seats. That's where it’s trying to escape!

  It turns and runs.

  I scream, "Lex! The bucket! Throw the water!"

  Lex sprints, grabs the bucket, and hurls the water at the mirror. The reflection distorts violently.

  The creature shrieks again—higher, frantic—mumbling incomprehensible gibberish. It grabs its mirror again and darts toward the entrance.

  Then it stops.

  It looks down at the puddle. Frozen. Is it hesitating? Contemplating jumping over it?

  It bolts.

  "Lex! Shoot the mirror!"

  "Got it!" he shouts back.

  He takes aim. Just as the creature leaps—Lex fires. The mirror shatters. The creature slams into the wall and falls—into the puddle.

  It screams:

  "My face! My face! The fluidity is heresy!"

  It clutches its hand mirror—desperate. I see no escape routes forming.

  This is my chance.

  "Lex! Reposition and shoot its limbs!"

  Lex dashes up the altar, takes aim. Fires.

  The creature dodges unnaturally fast, a blur of motion.

  I sprint toward it, but it ignores me and leaps toward Lex. The floor cracks under the force. The distance between us grows.

  Lex dodges, matching its speed with something almost unnatural himself. He fires—hits the knee.

  The creature collapses, writhing near the back exit. It sees the puddle. It knows.

  I run.

  The thing rants, snarling:

  "I will not fail! I shall not be humiliated! Its power is absolute! As its executor, I will not be undone by parlor tricks!"

  With my monocle, I see it accumulating power in the hand mirror. All the mirrors in the space are glowing with radiance—something is coming. I see reflections of other faceless men—mirror men. My breath catches. I have no time! Gotta grab the mirror!

  But then—the monocle begins to glow, pulsing faintly, guiding my sight to the exact mirror where the creature is channeling its power. It’s not just showing me—it’s leading me. My eyes lock on the target.

  With the last bucket in my hand, I throw the water at the hand mirror. It hits. The image of the mirror man distorts violently. The faceless creature convulses; all the reflections warp before they can break through. The hand mirror falls from his grasp. I dash forward with everything I have left and snatch it up using the moon glove.

  The glove pulses dark energy—injects it into the mirror. The creature screams.

  The images burn away. The creature begins to crack.

  Light and shadow twist violently—creating a penumbral symphony.

  It cries out, desperate:

  "This was not your destiny! Do not seek Penumbra!"

  And then—

  It shatters.

  Gone in a burst of collapsing light.

  The warped, unreal environment fades away.

  Me and Lex… we’re back in the real world.