Max stood frozen by the window, the small mirror in his hand reflecting the Weeping Angel just outside. The stone figure remained motionless, its hands still covering its face, but Max knew better than to trust its stillness. Every blink, every slip in attention, would bring it closer.

His phone buzzed again in his pocket, another message lighting up the screen.

*The shadows are watching.*

Max’s fingers clenched around the phone, the cryptic warning sending a chill down his spine. What did that even mean? Were the shadows something connected to the Angel? Was it a message from Orin, or someone—or something—else?

He swallowed hard, eyes flicking back to the Angel in the garden. The shimmer of distorted air still hung around it like a faint aura, and the weight of its presence felt oppressive, as though it were pushing against the very fabric of reality. It didn’t belong here. Not on Earth. Not in his yard.

“Okay,” Max whispered to himself, “stay calm. You can handle this. Just don’t blink.”

But his eyes were burning, dry from the constant staring, and his mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. He’d stepped into the world of the Nexus, a place where the lines between dimensions blurred, and now something had followed him back. *But why?*

He backed away from the window, careful to keep the Angel in view through the mirror. His legs trembled, the exhaustion from the past few days finally catching up to him. Max knew he couldn’t keep this up for long—he needed to figure out what to do before he blinked again.

The Nexus had warned him about the shadows. Were they connected to the Angel, or was something else coming for him? He was just starting to learn about the Tether, and already the fabric between worlds seemed to be fraying. He wasn’t ready for this. But ready or not, it was happening.

Max moved toward the living room, eyes fixed on the mirror, trying to keep as much distance between himself and the Angel as possible. The house was silent, too silent, and every shadow in the corners of the room seemed darker, deeper. His heart pounded in his chest as he glanced at the darkened spaces where the light didn’t quite reach.

Were those the shadows the message had warned him about?

Max’s mind raced. He had no idea how to fight a Weeping Angel, much less whatever these “shadows” were. He needed help. He needed answers. But the Nexus wasn’t exactly user-friendly, and Orin wasn’t here to guide him. He was on his own.

Suddenly, the lights in the living room flickered. Max’s breath hitched, his heart slamming against his ribcage as the darkness in the room seemed to grow thicker, more oppressive. A cold draft swept through the house, rattling the windows.

Max’s grip on the mirror tightened as he strained to listen. There was something else in the house now. He could feel it—a presence, just out of sight, lurking in the darkened corners. The temperature dropped, and Max’s breath came out in shallow, panicked puffs.

He didn’t dare look away from the Angel, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something else was watching him. Something worse.

“Okay,” Max muttered, his voice shaking, “this is bad. Really, really bad.”

Suddenly, a noise came from the kitchen—like the soft creak of a door opening. Max’s head whipped toward the sound, but he quickly snapped his eyes back to the mirror. He couldn’t risk taking his gaze off the Angel. Not even for a second.

The lights flickered again, and the shadows in the corners seemed to pulse, moving like living things. Max’s pulse quickened, and a low, barely audible whisper echoed through the room, like the wind was speaking in hushed tones.

*Max Arwen…*

The voice was faint, barely a breath, but it was unmistakable. Someone—or something—was calling his name.

The air grew thicker, and Max felt a pressure on his chest, as if the very room was closing in on him. He tried to steady his breathing, tried to stay focused on the Angel, but the fear was overwhelming now. The shadows in the corners seemed to creep closer, stretching toward him like hungry tendrils of darkness.

Max’s phone buzzed again, the vibration shaking him out of his paralysis. With trembling fingers, he pulled it out of his pocket. Another message flashed on the screen:

*Do not trust the shadows. Keep the light on.*

Max’s head snapped up toward the ceiling. The lights—they were flickering more now, on the verge of going out completely. Panic surged through him. If the lights went out, the Angel could move freely, and the shadows—whatever they were—would close in.

He had to keep the lights on.

Without taking his eyes off the mirror, Max fumbled for the light switch by the door, desperately flipping it up and down. The lights flickered brighter for a moment, but then dimmed again, the electrical hum dying down.

“Come on, come on!” Max growled through clenched teeth.

A gust of wind rushed through the room, and the whispering voices grew louder. He could feel the shadows pressing in on him, cold and suffocating. The Angel was still frozen in place, but its presence weighed heavily on him, a reminder that any slip-up could be fatal.

Suddenly, a sharp knock came from the front door.

Max jumped, heart pounding. Another knock, louder this time.

“Max!” a voice called from outside. “It’s me—Jake! Open up, man!”

Jake? What was he doing here? Max hesitated, eyes darting between the door and the mirror. Could it really be Jake? Or was it something else—something mimicking his voice, trying to lure him into the shadows?

The knocking grew more frantic. “Max, come on! I know you’re in there. Open the door!”

Max took a deep breath, the panic rising in his chest. He couldn’t risk taking his eyes off the Angel, but he couldn’t ignore the possibility that Jake might be in danger, too. He had to make a decision.

With trembling hands, Max edged toward the door, keeping the mirror angled toward the garden. The shadows pressed closer, the flickering lights casting long, eerie shapes across the room. The whispering voices grew louder, swirling in the air around him.

“Max, please!” Jake’s voice sounded desperate now. “Open the door!”

Max hesitated, his hand hovering over the door handle. The cold breath of the shadows brushed against his skin, and the lights flickered once more.

Taking a deep breath, Max yanked the door open.

Jake stood there, wide-eyed and pale, looking more terrified than Max had ever seen him. But it was him—it was really Jake. His friend stepped inside quickly, slamming the door behind him.

“Dude, what the hell is going on?” Jake gasped, glancing around the room. “I saw that thing in your yard—what is that? And what’s with the lights?”

Max kept his eyes on the mirror, his mind racing. “I don’t know, Jake. But whatever it is, it’s not just a statue. It’s… it’s real.”

Jake stared at him, eyes wide. “Real? Like, *Doctor Who* real?”

Max nodded, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. “Yeah. And something else is here, too. The shadows—they’re moving. We need to figure out what’s happening before the lights go out completely.”

Jake swallowed hard, glancing nervously at the flickering lights. “Okay. So what do we do?”

Max didn’t have an answer. He had stepped into a world he barely understood, and now, the line between reality and nightmare had blurred completely.

But one thing was certain—if the lights went out, they were both in serious danger.

Max glanced at Jake, then back to the Angel in the garden. “We keep the lights on. And we don’t blink.”