inous. The backstage hallway of the Duskhaven Community Theater was now filled with anxious murmurs, snapping cameras, and uniformed officers politely but firmly ask

- In the storage room behind the café - past crates of expired pumpkin spice syrup and a framed photo of Gus shaking hands with a man labeled *'Time Traveler (Alleged)'* - sat a bulletin board covered in red string, pins, and yellowed newspaper clippings. Gus pointed to one headline near the center. **"Actress Vanishes During School Play – 1978"** Another: **"Teen Magician Disappears During Talent Show – 1994"** "They all happened here," Gus said. "Same theater. Roughly twenty-year intervals. All during *performances.*" Felix studied the articles. "You're telling me Duskhaven has a history of stage-based disappearances?" "Yup." "And nobody's noticed?" "This is Maine. If it ain't lobster or ghosts, people don't pay attention." Felix ran a hand through his hair. "What about the mirror?" Gus perked up. "Oho! Knew you saw something." Felix explained what he'd seen - the odd reflection, the figure in the glass, the note. Gus didn't even blink. "That's the Hollow Guest." "Come again?" Gus pointed to an old journal pinned to the wall. "Local legend. It's a sort of... copycat spirit. Doesn't kill you. Just *becomes* you. Replaces you so slowly no one notices. But it can only pass through mirrors. And only takes people during emotionally heightened moments. Love. Rage. Performance." Felix blinked. "That sounds insane." "Yeah, but so does avocado toast, and here we are." Felix turned to the wall again, eyeing the oldest clipping: **"Mirror Madness - Mental Patient Claims Doppelgänger Tried to Replace Her" (1902).** "This is real to you?" "Everything's real until proven boring." --- Felix left the café with a swirling mix of dread, caffeine, and something he hadn't felt in years: purpose. He walked toward the old Vale estate. It had been abandoned for decades - a sprawling gothic shell overlooking the cliffs. Veronica's family had once been wealthy, powerful... and deeply private. The kind of people who donated to museums but wouldn't let their kids trick-or-treat. The gates were rusted shut, but the side fence had co