Chapter 10 : The Figure That Watches
Chapter 10: The Figure That Watches
The man was gone.
Vanished.
Daniel stood frozen in the empty chapel, his fingers still curled around the photograph.
The storm outside had softened to a quiet drizzle, but the silence inside felt deafening.
The conversation that had just happened—the impossible words, the shifting photo—it all felt like something slipping through his fingers.
His breathing was slow, measured. Too controlled.
Because deep down, Daniel knew:
This wasn't the first time this had happened.
The Photo That Keeps Changing
His gaze dropped to the photograph.
The third figure was still there—standing in the background, slightly out of focus.
Daniel's stomach twisted.
It was clearer now.
Not fully, not enough to make out the face, but enough to see details that hadn't been there before.
A long coat.
A hand tucked into a pocket.
And something else—something that made Daniel's pulse stutter.
A reflection.
The third figure wasn't just standing behind them.
They were looking into a mirror.
Just like Daniel had earlier that night.
And just like then—the reflection wasn't matching their movements.
A Clue Left Behind
Daniel's fingers tightened around the edges of the photo.
He needed answers.
His gaze flicked back toward where the man had been standing. The ground was dry. No footprints. No sign he had ever been there.
Except—
Something glinted near the pew.
Daniel stepped forward cautiously, kneeling down. His fingertips brushed against a small metal object.
A key.
It was old, worn—its edges slightly rusted, but the teeth still sharp.
Not a house key.
A locker key.
Daniel turned it over in his palm, his thoughts spiraling.
The man had left this behind. On purpose.
A message. A breadcrumb.
Go here. Find this.
But where?
His thumb brushed against the metal. There was something engraved on it.
A number.
173.
The Name That Shouldn't Exist
Daniel exhaled slowly, steadying himself. He needed to focus. He needed to think.
There was something familiar about that number. Too familiar.
His head throbbed.
A flicker of memory surfaced—hazy, incomplete.
🔹 A row of numbered lockers.
🔹 The scent of damp concrete and metal.
🔹 A hand—his hand—turning a key in a lock.
🔹 A voice, distorted and distant, saying: "If you remember this, it's already too late."
Daniel's breath hitched.
The image vanished.
But the feeling it left behind didn't.
The number 173 meant something.
And he had been here before.
The Warning That Comes Too Late
Daniel stared at the key for a long moment before tucking it into his pocket.
Whatever was in that locker—it was meant for him.
But as he turned toward the chapel doors, another thought crept into his mind.
The man had vanished. The footprints had disappeared.
And yet—
The storm had left the chapel floor damp, slick with rain.
His own footprints should have been there, leading from the door to the pews.
But when he looked down—
There were none.
Cliffhanger: The Path That Was Never Walked
Daniel's pulse slowed.
His shoes were wet. He could feel the moisture in his socks. He had walked through the rain.
So why wasn't there a trail?
Why was the floor completely undisturbed?
A shiver ran down his spine.
He turned back toward the shattered mirror.
His reflection was still there.
Watching.
And for the first time—
It raised a hand.
Not to mirror him.
To wave goodbye.