A flash of white light burst across Luke’s vision—then slam.

He hit the ground hard, face-first, the impact knocking the air from his lungs. For a second, he couldn’t move. Every nerve sparked like static, his limbs frozen, chest heaving in shallow bursts. It wasn’t just the fall. It was the mirror. The pull. The impossibility of what just happened.

His heart pounded, fast and heavy, filling his ears. Panic climbed up his throat, tangled with something else—something not quite fear but far from calm. Wonder, maybe. Confusion. He tried to speak, but his voice caught somewhere inside him.

Have I finally lost it?

He stayed there, waiting for something to make sense. Nothing did.

Eventually, he forced himself up, palms scraping against the dirt and grass. The basement was gone. No mirror. Just open sky above, bright sunlight, trees scattered in the distance, and soft blades of grass under his knees.

He blinked against the glare, eyes adjusting to the brightness. The air was too clean, the colors too sharp. It looked like the front lawn of his grandmother’s house, but something was wrong. Off in a way he couldn’t name.

Luke turned around and saw the front door shut behind him. No sign of the mirror. No hint that he’d just been inside.

He climbed the porch steps and grabbed the doorknob.

It didn’t move.

“What the…?”

He rattled it again, harder this time. Still locked.

“No. No, no, this doesn’t make sense.” His voice was shaking, breath picking up again. “I was just inside. I just came from the basement.”

And then he heard it.

A voice.

Distant, soft, and warm.

Luke froze. His head turned slowly toward the sound, and a strange hush settled around him. Someone was singing. The melody floated in from the woods behind the house—gentle and haunting, like it had been stitched together with longing and sadness. It didn’t just sound beautiful—it felt familiar, like something he’d been missing without ever knowing it.

He stepped off the porch.

Then took another step.

The forest waited ahead, trees still and quiet, like they were holding their breath.

He didn’t realize the sky had dimmed slightly. Or that the air had cooled. He just kept walking, drawn forward by the song, his thoughts distant and foggy. The woods welcomed him in, shadows curling along the path, leaves rustling above in voices too soft to understand.

And then the voice came again.

“Sweet child…”

Luke flinched at the words.

“Oh, sweet poor child… come to me.”

His feet moved on instinct. The path twisted and widened, leading to a clearing. At the far end, a cavern yawned open like the mouth of something ancient. Sunlight framed the entrance, but inside it was pitch black—thick and depthless.

He slowed, hesitating, but the pull hadn’t loosened.

“Here, child,” the voice coaxed again.

He was only a few feet from the entrance when a sharp hiss cut through the air. It was the kind of sound that made your spine lock up—like steam and snakes combined. Then came movement in the dark. Fast. Big.

Luke’s daze snapped.

He stumbled back just as something lunged from the shadows—a blur of flesh and scales. A long, powerful tail whipped through the dirt, attached to a woman’s torso. Her face stretched wide in a scream, mouth unhinged, hair thrashing like it had a life of its own.

“AHAHAA! FINALLY! A HUMAN FOR ME!”

Luke yelled and hit the ground, scrambling back on his hands and heels as the creature slithered forward. She was faster than anything he’d ever seen, claws inches from his face—

Then the ground between them erupted in flame.

A wall of fire shot up in an instant, searing hot and blinding bright. The creature screeched and reeled back, her full form now visible in the light—serpentine body, human torso, skin slick and scaled, eyes glowing like molten coals.

“MYTHOS!” she howled, retreating with a violent hiss into the dark.

Luke didn’t move. Couldn’t. His chest rose and fell in shaky, desperate breaths.

And then came another voice.

This one smooth, cool, and almost bored.

“This,” it said, from above, “is my prey.”

Luke looked up.

A man hovered in the air, arms folded like he had all the time in the world. His black hair was tousled, face sharp, and his golden eyes were slitted like a predator’s. He was smiling—not kindly, but like this was all very entertaining.

Luke’s jaw dropped. His brain scrambled to connect the dots, but it was failing. The guy was literally floating.

Their eyes locked.

The man tilted his head slightly.

Then blew out a lazy puff of air, like he was flicking lint off a shirt.

Luke screamed.

He turned and ran, crashing through branches and brush, the ground a blur beneath his feet. But just a few steps in, the forest shifted again. Vines burst from the soil, thick and fast, coiling around his arms and chest, yanking him to a halt.

“Nuh-uh-uh~” the man crooned playfully.

Luke gasped as the guy floated down behind him, casually toying with a strand of his messy blond hair.

“Wh-where the hell am I?!” Luke choked out.

The stranger leaned in, golden eyes gleaming, grin sharp enough to draw blood.

“You,” he said with a voice like silk pulled tight, “have crossed the line… into the Devil’s Land.”