Matthew's remaining good eye stared up at Millie, blank and unseeing, her own horrified face reflected in its dark empty depths. Millie shoved his body off of her and scuttled back. She scrabbled over the stones, trying to put as much distance between them as possible, only stopping when her back hit a wall. For a second, she just sat there, clinging to the edge of the room, face frozen in horror as she stared at him, just lying there.

Then she rounded on Sister Marion.

"What did you do?" she shouted at her. "What did you do to him!?"

Sister Marion just stared back at her, her expression merciless.

"He didn't deserve to die," Millie howled, "None of them deserved to die! And yet... Why would you kill him?"

"That was not my doing," was all Sister Marion said.

Millie's eye drew up to the long staff still gripped in the sister's hand. Its golden head towered over the old, hunched woman, ruby stains shining bright in the lamplight. Blood stains. His blood.

Was she really going to stand there and deny that she was the one that killed him?

Millie scowled back at her. Yet another lie...

The sounds of a heated argument and heavy footsteps began to drift down the stairwell. Millie turned to just as several figures descended the stairs, and soon the Archdeacon, the Mother Superior, and the Headmistress emerged from the shadows. As they filtered into the room, they didn't even glance at Millie as she cowered on the floor.

"This has to end tonight," the Archdeacon warned the Mother as he trailed after her. His pale features were ruddy from agitation, his lake-water eyes bright and furious. "It has gone on for far too long, and I cannot allow it to continue."

"I agree," Sister Marion piped up as the Mother Superior and the Archdeacon reached her side. "The breach has destabilised the entire situation. It could jeopardise everything we've worked for."

"Precisely!" the Archdeacon agreed, nodding vigorously. "We must act now!"

The Mother Superior did not respond. She didn't even seem to be listening. Her gaze was down, fixed on her feet, as though she was locked deep in her thoughts. Though the others appeared to be deeply agitated, her expression was at peace.

"It is not for either of you to decide," the Headmistress cut in, glaring at both Sister Marion and the Archdeacon. "It's the Mother's decision. This is her jurisdiction, and her trial—"

"We are still allowed to give our opinions," Sister Marion snapped back, incensed that the Headmistress would address to her in such a way. "And the Mother should know all of the ramifications her decision. If this fails, it has dire consequences for not just us, but possibly for the whole country—"

"That is well known. But this is the first progress we've made in years—"

"At the price of so much death—"

As they continued to bicker, the Mother Superior finally looked up. Her gaze met with Millie's, holding her in her forceful gaze. Her brows furrowed, studying her with curiosity as though she was seeing her for the first time.

Millie pressed herself closer to the wall, as something cold slithered inside.

The Mother's eyes narrowed as if she saw something interesting there. Then she raised her hand, and the others ceased their argument.

"I'm not ready to give in just yet," the Mother Superior announced.

Sister Marion looked furious. "You cannot be serious. We are already walking a dangerously fine line—"

"Look at her," the Mother said, talking over Sister Marion as though she hadn't spoken at all. She swept her arm out to point Millie. "Look how hard she's holding on."

The others' eyes finally all swivelled to focus on Millie. Sister Marion looked as distrustful as ever, the Headmistress smug, but the Archdeacon softened, his fury turning into interest similar to the Mother's.

"Fascinating," he breathed.

"This what I have been trying to tell you," the Mother explained. "The girl was the key."

Millie's gaze flicked between them, trying to make sense of it all.

Key?

Holding on?

What were they talking about?

And what in the hell do they want from me?

A crack echoed through the room.

Their gazes shifted off of Millie, sliding to the other side of the room.

"And what about the other one?" Sister Marion asked.

Another crack, this one loud and sharp like a splintering bone.

Millie hesitated, not wanting to look for herself... But she had to. Shaking, she forced her head to turn, following the gazes of the others.

Matthew's body was... moving.

It appeared as though he was struggling to pull himself up, his joints cracking with each movement as though they had all gone stiff. Millie stared at him, watching him with confusion. She had seen his mutilated face, and felt his cold, rubbery skin. He was dead. He had to be dead. And yet...

She thought of the gaping wound in his face, of how no man could survive such a brutal injury. But as he turned that same empty hole to stare at her, she wondered if he was a man at all.

"Miiillie," he rasped. His voice was like sand against stone, but there was a deep relief in it. "Milliiie."

Millie wanted to scream again, but she couldn't. She could only shake against the cold stone wall, staring at the horror of what was once Matthew as he dragged himself across the stone floor with great effort, inching ever closer to her.

"Miiillie," he said, his voice hoarse, as he continued to crawl forward. "Help me. You have to help meee."

"I-I can't," she sputtered. "I can't!"

"You have to help meee," the false Matthew begged. "You have to help usss."

Us?

"I can't!" Millie cried, shaking her head vigorously. She tore at her hair, digging her nails into her scalp, trying to use the pain to wake her from this nightmare. The pain was clarifying, but it only served to make her realise there was no waking up from this hell.

Matthew continued his advance. His progress was slow, but that gave Millie little comfort. There was only so much space in the small room. He would reach her eventually.

And then what would he do to her?

She couldn't just wait around...

Her gaze turned back to the crowd. They did not seem alarmed by Matthew's strange return to life. In fact, they watched the scene with great interest, as if they were waiting for something to shift.

"Help me!" Millie cried at them.

They glanced at her but did not move.

"What are you doing?" Millie screamed. "Why won't you help me?"

Matthew grabbed her ankle. He clutched at her and dug his cold fingers into her skin. His empty socket stared at her, and something twitched in the redness, as though the flesh-bound mechanisms were still trying to move what was no longer there.

"Let me go!" Millie shrieked, kicking at him.

Her kick landed on his neck, but he didn't even flinch.

He grabbed at her calf now, using her leg to drag himself closer.

"Millie, please, listen to me," he croaked, clawing his way up. "You need to remember. You need to remember!"

"I don't! I don't remember!" She kicked out again, slamming her heel into his shoulder. He shrugged it off as though it was nothing.

"You have to try," he growled, "You have to try! If you remember, then we may still be able to escape this place. If you remember, you can get us out of here! I need you to remember!"

"I don't remember!" Millie screamed. She gave another kick, and this one smashed into the empty hollow of his missing eye. It was finally enough to loosen his grip. She kicked again and managed to knock him off.

She scrambled away from him, then got to her feet and ran. She raced across the room, past the crowd, heading for the door. They made no move to stop her, and they were too far to reach—

An unseen force slammed into her, throwing her back. She landed hard against the stone, and the wind rushed out of her lungs. She lay there gasping, dazed, trying to regain her senses.

What had done that to her?

She looked up.

None of the watching crowd had moved.

And Matthew was advancing on her again.

"Help... me..." Millie gasped. "Help me, please!"

Only the Archdeacon showed any concern. He turned to the Mother. "Perhaps we should do something."

"Perhaps we should put her out her misery," Sister Marion grumbled, still brandishing the long, bloody rod.

"No," the Mother said, her tone sharp and decisive. She stared down at Millie with bright eyes. "Not yet. I want to see how well she can fight."