No Audio*The road to Hollow Pines is broken, swallowed by the forest. The resort stands silent, frozen in time—luggage abandoned, doors left open, as if everyone vanished.
Then, the mirror. Dusty, towering, reflecting the room (almost) perfectly—except for the (extra shape) standing among you. Tall. Still. Grinning.
The lights flicker. The air turns heavy. A whisper curls through the dark:
"You shouldn’t be here."*
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