Ethan stood, fists clenched, heart pounding against a ribcage that felt too small for the grief inside it.
Fake Aria stepped closer, her boots making no sound on the unreal grass.
Ryan—or whoever he was now—stumbled to his feet. "Why are you doing this?"
She tilted her head. "I'm not doing anything. I am the house. I'm just… its voice. Its hands. Its smile."
Ethan pulled the folded note from his wallet, shaking. "You can take her name from the world. But I wrote it down. You can't erase this."
She looked at the paper and winced.
It burned her, just slightly.
Proof.
A tether.
Something the Hollow couldn't digest.
"So that's it?" Ethan asked. "You trap people, devour them, wear their faces, and no one remembers?"
She gave him a mock pout. "Don't be so dramatic. They live on—somewhere in here. I become what they were. That's… mercy."
"No," Ethan growled. "That's theft."
Behind them, the world began to bend. The trees collapsed into melting silhouettes. The road curled into mist. The illusion fell apart.
They were back inside the Hollow House.
But not in any room they'd seen before.
They stood in a black expanse, only the outline of rooms and memories flickering like flame—Aria's laugh in one corner, Ryan's first memory of her in another. All strung up like lights inside a grotesque museum.
"We have to destroy it," Ethan whispered. "The mirror's gone, but the house still feeds. Still holds her."
"How?" Ryan asked, frightened. "We tried escaping. It let us go only when it was ready."
Ethan's eyes landed on the note again.
And suddenly—he knew.
"She said one must stay. What if that's the rule? What if this place only exists because someone remembers it? What if it feeds on witnesses—those left behind?"
Ryan's face paled. "You think if we both leave… it'll vanish?"
Ethan nodded. "Or we die. Either way… it ends."
Fake Aria watched, silent, curious.
Ryan took the note from Ethan's hands and looked at it. "If I go… I'll forget her, won't I?"
Ethan said nothing.
Ryan's hand tightened around the note. Then, softly: "I loved her, didn't I?"
"You still do," Ethan said.
Ryan stared at him for a long time. Then gave the note back.
"No," he said.
Ethan blinked. "What?"
Ryan stepped back. "You're the one who remembers her best. You're the one who loved her first. I know that now."
"No, Ryan—"
"I'm not even sure that's my name anymore. But she mattered. And someone has to keep her alive. Not just her name, not just her face, but everything."
Ryan smiled weakly.
"You'll forget me," he said. "But maybe that's okay."
And before Ethan could stop him, Ryan turned…
…and walked into the Hollow.
The ground opened, embraced him like a mother would a child.
And then—
Light.
A blinding rupture of screams and wind and memory. The room buckled, shattered, and released.
Ethan found himself on the grass outside the real house. The real sky above. A breeze on his face that didn't taste like death.
He looked down.
In his hand… the note.
And three names, written now in his own handwriting:
Aria. Ryan. Ethan.
To be continued...