Chapter 4: Chapter 4: Looney Tunes

Alexa:

Alexa woke up feeling completely refreshed, her body stretching beneath the soft warmth of her blankets. The golden hues of the autumn sun filtered through the window, casting a gentle glow across the walls of her room. The light seemed to dance as it caught the dust particles drifting lazily in the air, a soft reminder of the peaceful morning.

She groggily swung her legs out of bed, feeling the coolness of the wooden floor beneath her feet. After a quick wash-up in the bathroom, where the soft hum of the faucet and the refreshing splash of water soothed her tired senses, Alexa made her way downstairs. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the house, mixing with the savory smells of breakfast. Despite it being the weekend, the kitchen was already filled with the hustle and bustle of her family.

“Good morning, sweetie,” her mom, Emily, greeted her with a smile, her eyes still focused on the stack of papers she was organizing for her students. She was always busy, even on weekends, but it was comforting for Alexa to know that her mom was always there in the background, working diligently.

“Morning,” Alexa replied, her voice still carrying the traces of sleep, as she helped herself to a tortilla from the counter. She quickly stuffed it with lettuce, beans, and a generous helping of cheese. Just as she was about to sit down, she noticed her younger brother, Lucas, sitting cross-legged in front of the TV, eyes glued to the screen.

"Looney Tunes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as she plopped down beside him on the couch. Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck were causing their usual chaos, with the mischievous pair getting into one ridiculous situation after another. The familiar slapstick comedy filled the room, and Alexa couldn't help but chuckle.

“Yup!” Lucas said, grinning at her with a mouthful of tortilla. “Bugs and Daffy are gonna try and outsmart each other again. It’s the one where they go camping.” He leaned back, his eyes not leaving the screen. "You know, I think old cartoons were much cooler, just like this one."

Alexa smirked, playfully nudging him. "Oh really? Never gave much thought to that."

“Shh, just watch!” he retorted, though his grin betrayed the playful challenge in his voice.

The animation on screen was a riot of colors, with Bugs Bunny pulling one clever trick after another on Daffy Duck, who always fell for it. They were on a camping trip, of course, and the ridiculousness of it made Alexa laugh. It was simple, carefree fun—just what she needed after everything that had happened lately.

"I personally love camping, but do you think those two enjoy it?" Alexa asked, munching on her tortilla, her eyes still fixed on the antics of the animated duo.

“I don’t think they enjoy anything,” Lucas said with a laugh, eyes widening as Bugs Bunny set up an elaborate trap for Daffy. “They just like messing with each other.” He paused, then looked over at her. "Hey, are you planning on doing something like that? Going camping, I mean? You’ve been acting kinda weird lately.”

Alexa shrugged, her fingers tapping idly on the edge of her tortilla. She suddenly thought it might be a good excuse. "You know, I hadn’t thought about it, but it seems like a great idea, Lucas. I think I need a little time to myself—get away from everything for a bit and think things through. Just like Bugs and Daffy."

"Right," Lucas said, nodding seriously. "A real camping trip, like the ones we had with Dad? Just don't end up eating bugs or something." He snickered at his own joke.

Alexa smiled, appreciating his attempt at humor. "Did you mean Bugs Bunny? Or bugs like flies? Either way, no bugs for me, I promise. Just a weekend to clear my head."

“Well, if you do end up going camping, don’t forget to pack food, or you might end up eating some slimy critters,” he said, glancing at her with mock concern. "And tell me if you need a tent buddy. I’ll totally help with setting up camp." His playful grin was back.

"I'll keep that in mind, Lucas," she replied, rolling her eyes. She finished off her tortilla, then stood up, stretching. "Anyway, I think I’ll head out soon. Just wanted to let you and Mom know first."

"Alright." he said with a mock salute, settling back into his spot in front of the TV.

Alexa sat at the kitchen table, her fingers lightly tapping on the edge of her mug as she gathered her thoughts.

“Mom, Dad,” she began, looking up from her mug and meeting their eyes, “I’m thinking about going camping this weekend. Just for a those two days, to clear my head.”

Emily, glanced over from the stack of papers she was organizing. "Camping? That sounds nice," she said with a smile, though her attention quickly drifted back to her work. "Just make sure to pack well, Alexa. It’s getting a bit chilly outside.”

Alexa nodded. “I will. Just gonna keep it simple. I’ll leave my phone off. No distractions. Just me, nature, and... I don’t know. A little peace and quiet.”

Her dad, Marcus, raised an eyebrow from across the room, where he was finishing his breakfast. “Going alone, huh? You sure you’ll be alright? No Peter with You?”

“I’ll be fine, Dad,” she assured him with a reassuring smile. “It’s just for the weekend. I’m more than capable of handling it myself. And no, no Peter, I promise”

“I know sweetheart,” her mom replied, glancing over with a warm look. “Just promise me you won’t do anything too adventurous out there. It’s getting darker earlier now. And I don’t want you wandering too far, okay?”

“Of course, Mom,” Alexa replied, a playful grin crossing her face. “I’ll stick to the parts I know.”

Her dad chuckled. “Well, if you’re sure, then go ahead. Just remember to take care of yourself. We’ll be here if you need anything, but I believe I have trained You well enough.”

“Thanks,” Alexa said, standing up and walking to the stairs. “I’ll be back Tomorrow.”

Her mom waved her off, still buried in her work. “Take care, sweetheart. Enjoy your time alone.”

Alexa grabbed her phone and sent a quick message to her friends. She told them she’d be out camping for the weekend, no communication, just some time to herself. It felt good to have a simple excuse that allowed her to disconnect and focus on other things.

The weekend would be her time to escape into the other side, to find some answers and to figure out what to do next with the strange and unexpected events that had been unfolding in her life.

With that, Alexa went upstairs, preparing for her little “camping trip.” She packed food, painting materials, warm clothes, and her sleeping bag. She then retrieved the Spider-Slayer from under her bed.

There was just one more thing to do—the most important one—before she could leave.

She sat by her easel and began painting.

She dipped her brush into the deep, vibrant blue that she had mixed earlier, the color of the sky in her Domain—alive, pulsing, as if it had a heartbeat of its own. With each stroke, the paint seemed to leap from the bristles, swirling into the canvas as if it were already part of the world she was creating.

The air around her thickened with the familiar hum of inspiration. The canvas was no longer just a surface; it became a portal, a window into the vastness of her imagination. Slowly, the sky emerged, glowing and shifting with every layer of blue she painted. It wasn’t just a simple sky—this was something different, alive, breathing. Clouds drifted, but not in any ordinary way. They swirled into shapes, taking on the form of creatures and symbols, some familiar and some foreign. A dragon spiraled up, its wings outstretched as if ready to take flight.

She leaned forward, captivated by the painting forming beneath her hands, every stroke pulling her deeper his surroundings. His eyes darted quickly around the room, as if he were mentally noting every detail in the space. There was an almost nervous energy to him, like he couldn’t settle in one place for too long.

“Ready to go?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as if the restlessness in his body had shifted into something more internal.

"Yeah," Alexa said, her voice steady. "Just let me grab my jacket. It's colder now than it was in the morning."

She turned to head upstairs but glanced back over her shoulder to find Peter still shifting from foot to foot, his gaze fixed on the door. He seemed so out of place here—like the moment, the house, everything around them felt wrong in a way he couldn’t put into words. But Alexa wasn’t about to let his nerves affect hers.

As she grabbed her jacket, she could hear Peter exhale slowly behind her, like he was letting out a breath he’d been holding. When she returned to the entryway, he gave her a quick glance, his blue-gray eyes flicking to hers before quickly averting his gaze.

“Alright,” she said, her own voice tinged with an underlying sense of anticipation. “Let’s get this over with.”

Peter’s lips pulled into another tight grin, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. He nodded, his restless energy still there, and together, they headed for the house.. Every stroke brought the space closer to life, closer to reality. She could feel the connection to her Domain growing stronger with every passing moment, the space beginning to thrum in time with her thoughts.

Finally, she reached for the last of the iridescent colors—the shimmering, silvery whites that would capture the light that poured through the open air of her Domain. The light there was not normal. It was brighter, warmer, filled with possibilities. It touched every surface, turning even the simplest objects into something magical. She painted the light, layering it softly over the edges of the room, feeling the pulse of the space stretch outward.

Her brush hovered over the canvas for a moment, hesitant. She knew that once the final stroke was made, the portal would be complete. The room around her seemed to hold its breath, waiting. But she didn’t hesitate for long. With a deep breath, she finished the last line of the painting.

Once everything was ready, she took a deep breath, opened her bedroom window and headed back downstairs, her mind already focused on what she needed to do next.

“Mom, I’ll be back soon, okay?” she called over her shoulder as she opened the front door.

“Alright, sweetie. Take care of yourself!”

As quickly as Alexa had left the house, she quietly crept around the back to ensure no one saw her. Her footsteps were light and deliberate as she made her way up to the roof, her hands finding the familiar ledge by the window. With a practiced ease, she scaled the sloping tiles, her movements fluid, almost second nature.

She reached the edge of the roof and crouched low, careful not to make a sound. The air was cool against her skin, but her pulse was quick with the thrill of secrecy. The open window was within arm's reach. She glanced around one last time to make sure no one was in sight and then slid through the narrow gap.

Once inside, she let out a quiet breath, the silence of her room wrapping around her like a protective cloak. She moved swiftly, closing the window behind her with a soft click.

The room felt strangely still. The usual hum of the house, the sounds of life outside, all seemed distant and insignificant. Her eyes, however, were immediately drawn to the canvas she had left earlier, the one she had painted in the quiet of her mind—the one that held the world of her Domain.

She stood before it, the colors shimmering in the low light of the room, glowing softly as if they had a life of their own. The shapes, the heart at the center pulsing in its own rhythm, all of it felt as real as the room around her. The brushstrokes still seemed to hum with an energy that was unlike anything she had experienced before. It wasn’t just a painting—it was a doorway, a connection to a world that was both hers and not hers.

Her hand hovered over the canvas, fingertips tingling with electricity. It shimmered beneath her touch. For a moment, the edges of the painting seemed to blur, the colors beginning to glow and move, just as they did in her Domain. The heart at the center pulsed with life, sending out a wave of energy. Alexa placed her hand on the canvas, her fingers tingling with the warmth of the connection.

The air around her thickened, and a soft pull—a whisper, really—began to tug at her. She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the vibrations of her Domain reach out toward her. The boundaries of her room seemed to fade, and she could feel herself drawn toward the painting.

When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in her room. She stood beside the painting of her normal room—now a portal, a gateway to the world she just left behind. The air felt different here. It was familiar, yet every breath felt like a taste of something far grander, more intense.

The sapphire crystal at the center of her Domain pulsed softly, its light a steady rhythm, matching the beat of her heart. It shimmered with a thousand shifting colors, each hue ebbing and flowing like the tide. The vibrant glow bathed the entire space in its warmth, filling her with a sense of connection, as though the crystal and her heartbeat were intertwined, bound together by something deep and ancient.

The space around her was alive—every corner seemed to hum with possibilities. The canvases stretched before her, filled with motion, their dragons soaring through skies that only existed in the most vivid dreams. The sculptures swirled and shifted, as if the very air was bending around them, capturing the fleeting thoughts of the mind, giving them shape.

She reached down, her fingers brushing the cool, reflective surface of the floor beneath her. It shimmered in response, colors bleeding and mixing like liquid light, reflecting her presence in ways that felt almost sacred. There was no corner to retreat into here—just an infinite space, filled with art, light, and energy, all waiting for her to shape it, to mold it into whatever her imagination desired.

A sense of calm washed over her as she took in the beauty and power of this place. She was home, in a sense. The Domain, her Domain, was both an extension of herself and a realm all its own, a space that had no limits but those she imposed upon it. It was the place where her creativity came to life, where her thoughts could grow and take form, where anything was possible.

For a moment, she closed her eyes again, taking in the sounds, the smells, the feel of this place—the hum of creation, the scent of paint and clay, the whispers of ideas yet to be born. She felt herself fully immersed, the boundary between herself and the Domain dissolving. This was her space, a reflection of her soul. And now, it was waiting. Waiting for her to unlock more of its secrets.

Alexa decided not to waste any time. She left her packed belongings by her workstation, taking only Spider-Slayer and packed food. Through the doors of her Domain, she descended downstairs to the kitchen. As she entered the space she knew so well, she felt at ease.

She approached the refrigerator, which still, surprisingly, seemed like a natural part of this place. She opened the door, and a cool breeze rushed out. For a moment, it felt almost too... ordinary. She paused for a moment, arranging the food inside.

She stopped, contemplating something she hadn't noticed before. Electricity? Power? When Peter and she were here together, she hadn’t paid much attention to it. But now, looking at the lights that warmly glowed and the coolness of the refrigerator, she realized something had slipped by her. How was electricity even possible here? Does anyone operate power plants here?

She closed the fridge with a soft click and let her gaze fall to her hands for a moment, wondering what else might surprise her. Some things felt familiar, others completely foreign.

Alexa stepped out of the warmth of the house and into the outside world, her senses immediately alight with the wonders that surrounded her. The air felt crisp yet soothing against her skin. The sunlight stretched across the land, larger and brighter than she was used to, painting the sky a deep, tranquil blue that seemed to hold an eternal promise of peace. It wasn’t just a sky; it was like a canvas, stretching endlessly, dotted here and there with soft, fluffy clouds, some lazily drifting, others twisting and curling into shapes that seemed almost alive.

She smiled as one particularly large cloud took the shape of a soaring eagle, its wings spread wide, gliding across the expanse above. She squinted upward, a gentle laugh escaping her lips as the cloud shifted, turning into a playful dragon, its long body twisting as though dancing in the sky. It was whimsical, surreal, and perfect. The whole world felt like it was alive, moving, shifting in ways that spoke directly to her heart.

As she turned around, her eyes caught sight of something unexpected—a rose bush, its delicate petals a deep shade of crimson, standing proudly by the porch. Alexa blinked in surprise. She had never seen this bush here before. It seemed to have materialized out of nowhere, its roots weaving into the soil, its leaves a deep green, glistening under the sun’s soft rays. The roses themselves were almost unreal in their beauty, their petals lush and velvety.

She took a deep breath, letting the fragrance fill her senses, and her heart skipped a beat. The scent was intoxicating, heady and sweet, mingling with the faint traces of earth and air. It was the kind of fragrance that could fill the soul with warmth, coaxing memories of forgotten moments and dreams long buried. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the delicate bouquet, letting the scent swirl around her like a hidden treasure.

As she stood there, entranced by the roses, the sound of birdsong reached her ears, soft and melodic. She turned her gaze upward and saw colorful birds perched in the branches of nearby trees, their feathers glistening in the sunlight. Reds, blues, yellows—each one more vibrant than the last. The birds sang in chorus, their melodies filling the air with a kind of joyful harmony. Alexa couldn't help but smile as they flitted from branch to branch, their songs blending with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

But as she observed the scene, something strange caught her eye. Among the trees, a cat was crouched low, its body tense with focused intent. It was a curious creature—its fur was sleek, its eyes gleaming with an almost otherworldly sharpness. What struck Alexa immediately was its claws—long, far longer than any cat she had ever seen. They glinted in the light, sharp and silver, almost too long for a creature of its size.

The cat moved silently, its eyes never leaving the birds. Its claws scraped lightly against the bark of the tree as it slowly began to climb, its movements fluid, feline, yet somehow unnerving. Alexa watched, captivated, as the cat reached a branch, just below the birds. It was clear what it was after, yet there was something oddly graceful about the way it moved. The strange elegance of the cat, paired with its unnaturally long claws, created a juxtaposition of beauty and danger.

It was a creature that didn't quite belong, but in this space, it felt strangely fitting. She stood there for a moment, lost in the quiet tension between predator and prey, the birds oblivious to the danger just beneath them.

The entire scene was surreal, a blend of magic and nature that left her breathless. The air was alive with energy, with color, with life—every corner of the space felt like a painting unfolding in real-time, an extension of her own imagination brought to life.

She inhaled deeply, savoring the moment.

A figure appeared in the distance, casually strolling down the street with an umbrella in hand. Phillip. As he walked closer, his steady presence was unmistakable. Alexa watched him, her curiosity sparked, and a smile tugged at her lips when their eyes met.

“Alexa,” he greeted her warmly, his voice deep and smooth, as if nothing could rattle him.

“It’s a pleasure to see you’ve decided to return. Peter didn’t join you this time?” Phillip asked, his smile carrying a hint of teasing.

“No, just me today. I’ve got a few questions, and I’m hoping you’ll have a few more answers than last time,” Alexa replied, her tone a mix of eagerness and quiet determination.

Phillip chuckled softly, the sound rich and almost musical. “Ah, sarcasm. A sharp mind, I see. I think we’ll get along just fine, young lady.” He leaned casually on his umbrella, using it as a walking stick, and as he did, the wind blew a flurry of autumn leaves around them, creating a whimsical dance of colors. “Ask away.”

“Alright, first—tell me more about this world,” Alexa said, her voice steady, though the intrigue was clear in her eyes.

“Ah, I thought you’d be asking questions, not making requests,” Phillip said, tilting his head slightly, a spark of amusement in his eyes. Then, with a slight shrug, he continued, “But very well. Do you remember when I told you this world is a reflection of yours? A shadow, an echo of everything that’s on the other side? The way people, creatures, and even the smallest things feel and think on your side influences what takes form here. Take the sky, for example.” He gestured upward, and Alexa followed his gaze. “The sun—well, it’s got quite an ego, don’t you think? Over here, it’s much larger, hotter, as if it’s trying to outshine the other suns. And the moon... It can’t decide where it looks best, so it rises from every direction at once. It’s chaotic, but that’s the beauty of it. And cats—like that one up there,” he said, pointing toward the feline perched high in a tree, “they’re seen as hunters of smaller creatures. So here, their claws are... well, let’s say, much more formidable.”

Alexa looked at the cat, its unnaturally long claws glinting in the sunlight, and couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of awe.

“The more people, animals, or even objects believe in something on your side, the stronger the chance it’ll materialize here—transformed by those very beliefs and emotions,” Phillip continued, his voice calm and measured, as if all this was second nature to him.

“That kind of makes sense,” Alexa said, her brow furrowing in thought. “But it doesn’t really explain magic. Hardly anyone believes in it back home.”

“Ah, but Alexa,” Phillip said, a knowing smile playing on his lips, “you believe art is a part of you, don’t you? So why wouldn’t you have the power to shape yourself?” He leaned in slightly, eyes twinkling. “Sometimes, a single person’s belief, thoughts, and desires are strong enough to create something new—a domain, a space where they have influence.”

“In my world,” Alexa said, voice hesitant, “my magic disappeared as soon as my friends saw it. Why is that?”

Phillip’s expression softened, and he gave a slow, thoughtful nod. “Tell me—how did you use your talent?” he asked gently.

“I... changed my appearance a little,” she admitted, her cheeks coloring slightly as she avoided eye contact. She didn’t want to dive into the uncomfortable details.

“Ah, yes. A simple, yet effective example. Thank you,” Phillip said with a sharp nod. “You see, your world is governed by a very strict ruler. Long ago, he wrote up a set of unyielding rules that shape everything. But here’s a little secret: he’s not all-seeing. If no one notices when something’s off—if no one realizes the rules have been bent—it can slip by unnoticed.” He paused, letting his words sink in.

“I don’t get it,” Alexa said, confused.

“Hmm... let me put it another way. Your altered appearance would’ve probably stayed that way forever—if you’d only met new people who’d never seen you before. They wouldn’t know you broke the rules. And that tyrant, what’s his name again? Ah yes—Reality!” Phillip gave himself a nod of approval, then frowned slightly. “Reality doesn’t like it when someone breaks his rules. So the moment your friends saw something was off, it caught his attention. And he quickly ‘fixed’ what had changed.”

Alexa nodded, absorbing his words. It made sense, in a way.

“Here’s the thing,” Phillip said, his voice taking on a deeper tone, “What you call magic? It doesn’t have the same limitations here. It’s not confined to the same patterns or logic. Back in your world, you’re forced to play by someone else’s rules. But here, you’re free. You just need to embrace the idea that things don’t always have to work the way you think they should. Imagination, creativity—that’s what shapes this place. And especially in your Domain.”

“Will my Domain grow, or will it always stay the same? Can I move it somewhere else?” Alexa asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Your Domain is wherever you are,” Phillip said, his voice steady and clear. “The crystal remains where it is”—he pointed toward Alexa’s house—“but it’s also right here,” he said, placing a hand over her chest. “As you grow, as you learn more about yourself and your abilities, as you figure out how your relationship with the world works, your Domain will expand, and the crystal will grow with it. This will give you more control over your powers, more ability to shape your surroundings, and eventually, you’ll even be able to move the physical part of your Domain somewhere else.”

Alexa nodded, thinking about this. “And what’s the purpose of the physical part of the Domain?”

“It anchors your authority here,” Phillip explained. “In your Domain, you have greater control over your powers. What you do there is harder to undo, even in someone else’s Domain. But this all comes down to your level of authority.” He scratched his chin for a moment, thinking. “Building your Domain requires more than just understanding. It requires energy, which you can collect in different ways. Some gather it by hunting down wild shadows—like those spiders you encountered earlier. Others even go so far as to destroy crystal hearts. So, it’s vital to protect your Domain.”

“Wait, if someone destroys my crystal... will I lose control?” Alexa asked, a hint of concern creeping into her voice.

“Don’t worry,” Phillip replied with a reassuring smile. “You’ll still have control, but it’ll be weaker than what you have now. Until you create a new crystal, of course. But if you do, its growth will start from scratch.”

“Is fighting the only way to gather energy?” Alexa asked, furrowing her brow.

“Of course not,” Phillip said, shaking his head. “Your Domain will naturally collect energy just from you using your talents. And even in your world, there are places and objects of power that have their own reserves of energy. In the end, there are many ways to increase your authority. The path you choose is entirely up to you.”

“Does this energy have a name?” Alexa asked, intrigued.

“Oh, well... the memory isn’t what it used to be,” Phillip mused with a sly grin. “Most people on this side call it ‘shadowlight,’ but in the old days, it was known as ‘Tenebrae Lux.’”

“That makes sense,” Alexa said thoughtfully. “Latin was the language of our world, so I guess it makes sense that it’s here too.”

She felt a sense of understanding settling into her, like pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place.

“In your case,” Phillip continued, “a direct confrontation might be tricky. Your talents don’t exactly lend themselves to physical combat. But as with most things here, a little creativity can go a long way. With the right approach, you could do just about anything.”

Alexa absorbed his words, her mind whirring with possibilities. She felt ready, more prepared than ever.

“Thank you, Phillip. I think I know what I need to do now. If you’d like, you can stay at my house—I’ve got some food in the fridge,” she said, her tone warm. Then, almost as an afterthought, she added, “By the way, I forgot to ask earlier, and if it’s not too personal... I’d really like to know—who exactly are you? Do you have your own Domain too?”

Phillip’s expression softened, and for a brief moment, Alexa could’ve sworn she saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes.

“Thank you for the invitation, Alexa,” he said, a slight edge of wistfulness in his voice. “I’ll take you up on it later, but right now, I have something I need to attend to.” His smile returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “As for who I am—no, I don’t have a Domain. Like most living beings on this side, I’m a shadow.”

“I see,” Alexa said, absorbing this new piece of information. “Do beings on this side form communities?”

“Yes,” Phillip replied. “In fact, I’m heading to one now. If you’d like, I can take you with me next time.”

“I’d love that!” Alexa exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

"What’s your plan for the rest of the day, if you don’t mind me asking?" Phillip raised his umbrella and twirled it in the air, the motion as casual as ever.

"Oh, that's simple, my dear shadow—I'm planning to smash a little unnecessary glass." Alexa replied with a sly grin. "See you in the evening," she added, already running toward the stairs, eager to return to her Domain.

Alexa stood before the mirror, her thoughts drifting back to the old cartoons she had watched that very morning—Looney Tunes. The absurdity of the antics, the wild imagination that filled every scene, all the clever tricks and transformations—it sparked something in her. She realized that this world wasn’t just about power in the traditional sense. It was about creating, bending reality, and rethinking the limits of what she could do. Why not take inspiration from something so wildly creative?

She smirked. Maybe she’d be a little less "traditional" today.

Her fingers quickly undid the buttons on her shirt, and she slid out of her clothes, now standing in just her underwear. The smooth skin of her arms and legs felt like a canvas waiting for her ideas. She reached for the body paint she'd prepared earlier, the metallic silver gleaming under the light. The plan was clear—strength and protection, but with a little twist of fun.

As she dipped the brush into the thick, silvery paint, Alexa began by tracing lines across her arms. The metallic hue shimmered like a protective layer, almost like armor. She painted her entire body, covering her skin with the gleaming paint, feeling the sensation of it settling into every pore. It felt… empowering, as if the armor was not just on her skin but imbued within her, giving her strength to face anything.

Next, Alexa moved to her legs, her eyes sparkling with mischief. With swift strokes, she painted her legs into a design resembling rabbit feet, her movements playful yet focused. The texture of the paint, the way it stretched over her skin, began to make her feel lighter. She could almost feel the increased agility, the heightened speed, the way her jumps would be higher, faster, and more precise. Her feet would land with the grace of a rabbit, each step charged with energy.

A satisfied smile tugged at her lips as she turned to focus on her face. She reached for a different brush, and with careful, precise strokes, painted her nose to resemble that of a dog—sharp and keen, capturing the essence of heightened senses. Her sense of smell would now be sharper than ever, capable of detecting the faintest of scents in the air. She could almost imagine herself sniffing out secrets, clues, or the faintest traces of danger.

Once finished with the body paint, she dressed herself quickly, the silver sheen on her skin still visible beneath her clothes, giving her a faint glow. But she wasn't done yet. Next, she reached for the hairband that had been sitting on her dresser. With a few swift movements, she fashioned it into a set of cat-like ears, adorning them with little tufts of fluff. Once they were positioned on her head, she couldn't help but smile. The ears were more than just decoration—they’d enhance her hearing, sharp and acute, making her attuned to even the smallest sounds around her. She could practically hear her heartbeat in her ears, her awareness expanding with every small sound.

Then, she turned to her next project. She took a few pieces of paper and carefully drew circles on them, sketching portable holes—just like in the cartoons. Once finished, she rolled them up like scrolls and tied them with a small string. The makeshift “holes” would be her trick up her sleeve. She hung the scrolls over her shoulder with a sense of satisfaction.

Lastly, her hand reached out for the Spider-Slayer baseball bat, the familiar weight comforting in her grip. It felt like an extension of herself—her final piece of readiness. She took a step back, admiring her appearance in the mirror. There she stood, a mix of cute and badass, ready for whatever this world could throw at her.

Alexa stepped outside. The birds still sang cheerfully, but now her enhanced ears picked up sounds she never had a chance to hear before—melodies not meant for human ears. The roses blooming beside her porch smelled so intoxicating she had to summon an extra dose of willpower just to turn away and head toward the Glass House.

As she walked, she could still hear the neighborhood cat leaping from branch to branch, trying in vain to catch the birds.

She decided it was time to test her upgraded body. With a light bounce, she leapt—and was genuinely startled by how high the jump took her. A grin stretched across her face as she remembered the years her mom practically forced her to go to gymnastics training.

She did a mid-air flip and landed on a neighbor’s garden wall with the grace of a cat—and, to her delight, absolutely no pain. With arms stretched out like a tightrope walker, she balanced along the edge, then bent her knees and pushed off with her full strength.

She soared.

Thirty feet through the air, easy, and landed smoothly in a crouch on the sidewalk. Leaves exploded in all directions at the point of impact. Surprisingly, her landing was quiet—so quiet that she only heard it thanks to her heightened ears.

And thanks to those same ears, she heard something big approaching from the next street over. She darted behind the stone wall of a nearby house and peeked out cautiously.

What she saw made her jaw drop.

Marching down the middle of the street as if it owned the place was... a garbage truck—or more accurately, a garbage golem. Towering, mechanical legs clanked with every step, and massive robot arms scooped up trash bins with effortless strength, dumping them into a gaping, metallic maw that chomped rhythmically as it devoured the contents.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

With every lift of a trash can, a burst of childlike laughter echoed around it—as if the joy of some long-forgotten Saturday morning had been baked into its very core.

“This is completely bizarre,” Alexa muttered to herself, remaining hidden until the strange creature finally lumbered out of earshot.

She didn’t move until a full few minutes had passed in silence.

As she started down the road again, her mind flicked back to old memories—Lucas, barely tall enough to reach the windowsill, watching in awe as dump trucks, diggers, and garbage trucks rolled by, his little face glowing with wonder.

The memory faded just as she arrived at the gates of the Glass Garden.

She cracked her knuckles, bounced on her toes a few times, and gave the ground a good thwack with her bat to test her grip. Then she stepped inside, listening carefully for the telltale clicking of spider limbs.

Not long ago, this place made her feel like prey.

Today?

She had come to hunt, so she went in.

Somewhere beyond the trees of jagged glass, a clicking sound echoed—sharp, rhythmic, and drawing closer.

Glass-spiders.

She took a deep breath. The silver body paint clung to her like liquid armor, cool and comforting. Her rabbit-painted legs tensed with anticipation, the stylized paws twitching, ready to pounce or sprint at a moment’s notice. Through her cat-like ears, she heard the critters before she saw them: the glint of limbs, the whisper of movement on glassy legs.

They skittered into view—six of them, gleaming like obsidian sculptures with glassy limbs that fractured the light around them. Their eyes were like shards of mirrors, reflecting her every move.

"Let’s dance," she whispered, tightening her grip on the Spider-Slayer bat.

The first spider lunged, its legs slicing the air with a high-pitched screech. But Alexa was already gone—a blur of silver light. She leapt, twisting mid-air with impossible grace, the power in her legs launching her over the creature’s spined back. Her landing cracked the glass-grass, knees bending like a spring before she shot forward again.

She swung the bat.

CRACK.

Shards of glittering glass exploded from the spider’s abdomen, sparkling like confetti in the air. It shrieked and reeled back, legs clicking furiously. Two more spiders surged forward, flanking her. Alexa skidded low, rabbit-legs kicking up glass fragments, ducking between them. One jabbed with a bladed limb—but she sniffed out the angle a split second before and dodged sideways.

Then, with a grin, she reached behind her, pulling out one of the hand-drawn scrolls.

She slapped it onto the ground right between the approaching spiders.

A perfect black hole opened up on the glassy stone—like a cartoonish void drawn into reality.

One spider didn’t stop in time. It tumbled in with a panicked screech, legs flailing wildly as it fell.

Alexa darted forward and ripped the scroll from the ground—the hole snapped shut like it had never existed.

The spider was gone. Trapped below.

"Score," she muttered, spinning on her heel as the others regrouped.

Her ears twitched—movement, right side.

She pivoted just in time to raise her bat, deflecting a glassy limb with a metallic clang. The impact vibrated through her arms, but the silver paint held, absorbing the shock like armor. Gritting her teeth, she lunged forward and slammed the bat upward into the spider’s underbelly.

BOOM. Another eruption of glittering fragments.

Three down.

The remaining spiders hesitated. They weren't mindless—they were linked by a shared instinct. And that instinct now screamed danger.

"Come on," Alexa challenged, bouncing on her heels like a boxer in the ring. “Don’t start a party if you can’t finish it.”

One made a desperate lunge, trying to pin her. Alexa flipped upward with inhuman grace, flipping over its head and landing behind it. In one fluid motion, she drew another scroll and slapped it onto the spider’s back leg, where it touched the ground.

POP.

A hole opened beneath it.

The spider shrieked and collapsed into the void. Alexa jumped in after it just long enough to grab the edge of the scroll, yanked it free—

The hole sealed shut, trapping the spider in the earth below.

The last spider trembled, legs tapping uncertainly. Alexa didn’t give it time to retreat. She bolted forward, her enhanced speed a blur, and swung the bat with everything she had.

CRUNCH.

Glass, gone. Silence.

The battle was over.

She stood amid the glittering wreckage, the sheen of her paint glinting under the Mirror Domain’s silver light. Tiny shards rained down around her like snow, catching the fading light as they fell.

Alexa smiled to herself, panting slightly. Her bat rested on her shoulder, the cartoon scrolls swinging gently at her side.

“Cute and deadly,” she whispered to the wind. “I think I am going to like it here.”

Alexa moved through the garden with careful, quiet steps. The place looked different now—not just because of her new senses, but because she was no longer afraid. The sunlight filtered through cracked panes of colored glass, casting long, prismatic shadows on the ground. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, but it was her ears that did the real searching.

She made her way to the first spot—the patch of glassy stone tiles, where she had used one of her portable holes. She crouched low, placing her palm flat on the surface, and listened.

Nothing.

Not a scrape. Not a twitch. Not even the faintest breath of movement.

She stayed there a moment longer, then stood and walked to the next site. Again, she listened. Again, silence.

Her brow furrowed as she sat back on her heels and looked at the surface.

“It’s so quiet…” she whispered, almost to herself.

Too quiet.

She recalled the moment she first unrolled the painted scroll, pressing the black circle onto the ground like she was slapping down a cartoon trapdoor. The hole hadn’t just been paint—it had been real for a moment, a true opening into somewhere. And the spider had fallen right through.

Then, as quickly as it opened, she’d snatched the paper back—and with it, the only way in or out.

Alexa glanced at the ground, as if her eyes could pierce through stone and soil.

“When I pulled the paper away…” she murmured, fingers trailing over the surface, “the hole vanished. Like it was never there. But the spider... the spider didn’t come back.”

She imagined the process again in her mind: a pocket in space, a small contained space pressed into the earth. No air, no exit. And with the hole closed… the dirt above likely collapsed inward, sealing the spider in darkness.

“Buried alive,” she whispered, a strange chill brushing her skin despite the sunlight.

Not out of fear—more like awe. Quiet, sobering awe.

The power she wielded, though cartoonish in appearance, wasn’t a joke. It was clever, yes—like something out of Looney Tunes or a childhood daydream—but the outcome had been real. Final.

She stood again, brushing the dust from her hands, eyes scanning the other parts of her garden.

“Guess I don’t need a Spider-Slayer when I’ve got time to prepare, paint, paper, and a weird imagination,” she said with a small, wry smile. “Rest in pieces, spidey.”

She turned on her heel and moved toward the glass tower, the scroll case on her back bouncing lightly with each step. The bat in her hand tapped once against the glassy ground—a sound that echoed just slightly in the still garden.

Alexa stepped lightly through the shimmering paths of the mirror garden, its strange beauty dulled only slightly by her growing focus. All around her, warped reflections danced in broken arcs, painting her figure in a thousand variations. But her eyes were fixed on the towering spire ahead—twisted like molten glass caught mid-whirl, a sculpture of chaos and grace frozen in time.

Near its base, something familiar caught her attention.

A backpack lay partially hidden beneath a curling shard of mirror-glass. One of the straps was cleanly severed. Alexa didn’t hesitate. She picked it up without a word, threw the remaining strap around her arm, and slung the bag over her back.

Peter had dropped it the last time they were here.

Her grip tightened. She ran.

Her legs—painted silver, sculpted for speed—coiled like springs. With a mighty leap, she vaulted into the air, soaring toward the rooftop of a nearby mirror house. She landed with feline precision, glass crunching softly beneath her boots. A second jump sent her to the first jagged balcony of the spire, then another, and another. She climbed the tower not like a trespasser, but like it was hers by right.

Then - one final leap.

She landed on the apex.

The world seemed to fall away.

There, where a roof should have been, hung the Domain’s crystal heart—immense, alien, beautiful. Suspended in the air as if the laws of gravity were mere suggestions, it gleamed with a strange inner glow, alive with motion. Facets turned in impossible directions, catching every glimmer of light and shadow. It didn’t just shine—it spoke, not in sound, not in sight, but deep within.

Alexa felt it in her soul.

The moment her eyes locked on it, a pulse echoed through her chest. A resonance. A silent knowing. The crystal didn’t need to introduce itself. It was not a thing. It was presence. Will. A heart without a body, beating just for her to feel.

Spider-silk-like strands of shattered mirror wove around it, anchoring it delicately to the spire—like the remnants of something that once held it steady, now only barely restraining its weightless form.

Directly beneath it, inlaid into the peak of the tower’s floor, was a wide circular mirror—twelve feet across. But unlike the jagged glass she’d climbed past, this was something else entirely.

It rippled like mercury.

Liquid-glass, soft and reflective, the same strange material that made up the spire’s windows and doors. As she stepped toward it, her reflection stretched and twisted, reacting not just to her shape but to her presence—almost like it was alive, waiting.

She didn’t touch it.

Alexa narrowed her eyes at the crystal-heart above her, still pulsing with that haunting, silent rhythm that echoed through her soul. It was beautiful—terrible, too. A heart that didn’t belong here. A heart that shouldn’t have been.

No more.

With a deep breath, she crouched low… then launched herself skyward.

The world blurred beneath her. Her silver limbs propelled her weightless into the air, and she landed squarely atop the crystal. Its smooth, glowing surface felt unnaturally cold under her feet.

No hesitation.

With every ounce of strength, with all the fury and clarity she had, Alexa swung her spider-slayer bat down in a powerful arc, letting out a sharp cry as metal struck crystal.

CRACK.

A thunderous, bone-deep sound exploded through the air like a bell made from the world’s bones.

She heard no scream—but she felt it.

A soul-deep shriek, not in her ears but in the marrow of her body. Something old cried out in pain.

The crystal shuddered. Alexa leapt back just in time, falling gracefully to the glassy tower surface below as the heart began to splinter.

Fractures spread like wildfire across its body—twelve, twenty, a hundred shining cracks blooming outward.

And still it did not fall.

It remained suspended, barely holding itself together, tethered now not by broken mirror shards but by a thousand writhing strands of silver light, alive and twitching like nerves, like webs spun by a dying god. The glow intensified—chaotic, uneven, angry.

Then, the air changed.

All around her, mirrors began to appear—floating, rotating, forming a vast sphere that encased her and the crystal at its center. The light from the fractured heart reflected wildly, bouncing between their perfect surfaces like lightning trapped in a cage.

She was surrounded. Trapped.

And then… the ground began to ripple.

The wide mercury-like mirror beneath the crystal shivered. A gentle wave. Then another.

And another. Larger. Sharper. Faster.

The surface churned with movement like a storm was building beneath its skin. Then—

A shriek.

High and sharp and wrong.

The liquid exploded upward as a massive form surged from the depths—a spider, the size of a small car, its body carved of obsidian glass and molten hate. It climbed the air itself like it was solid, its many legs tapping and clacking across nothing, racing up the invisible walls toward the wounded crystal.

Alexa stood frozen, bat clenched, eyes wide.

The creature wrapped its long, jagged limbs around the crystal-heart, cocooning it in layers of mirror-like silk—except this wasn’t real silk. It was solidified light and liquid glass, weaving around the core with unnatural precision.

The crystal remained suspended, sealed inside a hanging cocoon of twisted mirror-glass, held aloft in mid-air like a grotesque ornament, one last layer of defense against this Domain’s invader. From the spider’s abdomen, a thick, shimmering strand of silver-glass light extended upward, connecting it to the cocoon like an unholy umbilical cord.

The moment the link was formed, the crystal pulsed again—its light now filtered through the strand, making the spider's body shimmer with irregular, flickering bursts.

Alexa stepped back as the creature dropped to the mercury mirror’s surface—now frozen, solid beneath its weight. Like ice.

It stood there, unmoving, but watching her.

Its eyes—dozens of them—glimmered with reflections of Alexa, as if each orb held a slightly different version of her. Twisted. Broken. Defeated.

Hatred poured from it like smoke. It didn’t need to roar or hiss.

It wanted her gone.

The moment of stillness shattered.

With terrifying speed, the spider lunged—one massive forelimb jabbing straight at Alexa like a spear. She barely had time to brace. The limb struck her square in the chest, and though her body-paint armor held, it sent a brutal shockwave through her entire body. The impact hurled her backwards like a ragdoll, slamming her against the curved wall of the glassy dome that enclosed them.

Pain blossomed across her ribs like wildfire, but she was alive—and that, she realized through gritted teeth, was only thanks to her silver skin.

Before she could catch her breath, her ears twitched.

Fwump. The sound came from above. The spider was airborne.

Alexa threw herself to the side just as the monstrosity landed where she'd been a heartbeat before, its weight cracking the mirrored floor like ice under pressure. Shards didn’t scatter—they sank, like light into liquid, absorbed by the strange mercury-like surface beneath them.

She scrambled to her feet, eyes darting frantically. That’s when she saw it—her Spider-Slayer bat, lying a few meters away by the crystal spire. She lunged toward it in a low hop, legs coiling like springs, but the spider reacted too quickly. It hissed, skittered sideways, and dropped in front of the weapon.

Two gleaming limbs reached down, pincers curling with eerie precision. Alexa’s heart stopped.

“No—don’t you da—!”

But it was too late.

The creature brought the bat to its fanged mouth and devoured it, crunching through enchanted wood and metal like it was a stale breadstick. The moment it swallowed, silver pulses flickered erratically through the strand that connected its abdomen to the crystal cocoon above, and its limbs twitched with sudden energy, like it had absorbed more than just matter.

Alexa staggered back, her breath ragged, heart hammering in her chest.

She was unarmed. Trapped. Facing a spider the size of a van that had just eaten her best shot at fighting back.

Panic scratched at the edges of her thoughts. She turned and sprinted, barely dodging a slicing limb that whistled through the air beside her. Cartwheel—hop—roll—her rabbit-painted feet giving her impossible agility as she moved with gymnastic grace across the mirrored battlefield.

But the spider was faster. Smarter. It skittered sideways along the glass, cutting off her angles, forcing her into tighter and tighter loops.

She needed a plan. Fast.

Think, Alexa. THINK!

The dome shimmered above. The silver cocoon floated in the center of the chamber like a heart ripped out of time, tethered to the spider by that strange, glowing strand. Everything—the spider’s rage, the trap, this twisted reality—it was all connected to that.

And maybe, just maybe… she didn’t need a weapon to win

Alexa ripped open the scroll case hanging at her back, pulling free one of her portable hole papers. Heart pounding, she charged at the spider and slammed the paper against its massive, glistening body. She stepped back and activated it, expecting the hole to swallow part of the creature whole.

But instead—

Her breath caught.

A pulse, cold and thunderous, echoed through her very soul. The Mirror Crystal Heart—suspended high above—answered her attempt with silent defiance. Her vision blurred for a moment as something inside her recoiled. Her power, the art she had shaped and wielded, was denied. She lacked authority here. Not in this Domain. Not under the crystal’s rule.

A massive limb came for her head. She dropped low, barely avoiding the strike. Another swiped at her legs. She flipped backward in a smooth gymnastic arc, landing on all fours, breath sharp and eyes wide.

Then—an idea.

She skidded to the side as the spider lunged again, barely missing her. In one smooth motion, she slapped a portable hole to the ground where its foreleg came down. The moment its weight pressed through the false surface, she yanked the paper back—and the leg was trapped, buried in nothingness sealed beneath glass and stone.

The spider shrieked in frustration and rage, trying to pull free.

Alexa didn’t wait. She danced back, flipped behind it, and repeated the move—twice more. Now three of its limbs were trapped at unnatural angles, its weight clumsily distributed, forcing it to teeter in confusion.

Breathing hard, she dug into Peter’s old backpack, her fingers wrapping around one of the strange baseballs he had found. They were light, yet harder than they should’ve been. Almost alien.

Perfect.

She flung one at the spider’s head. It missed.

Another. Dodge.

Two more—both deflected.

Her arms ached. Her vision blurred. She ran, weaving through the dome as the spider tore itself free of its traps, now limping forward but slower. She had time. Just a little more time.

She grabbed another ball. Focused.

Threw.

It slammed right into the cluster of black eyes on the spider’s head with a loud CRACK. One eye burst, and the creature screamed in pure agony, writhing, limbs flailing like broken glass blades. Its pain lit the chamber in shuddering silver.

Alexa didn’t wait. She sprinted up the curved slope of the spire wall, leaping from ledge to ledge until she stood again near the cocooned Crystal Heart.

The link—still intact.

A shimmering strand of silver-glass connected it to the spider’s abdomen. Pulsing. Feeding. Keeping them tethered like two organs in one body.

She grabbed a nearby shard of glass, gripped it like a dagger, and slashed.

Nothing. The strand didn’t even ripple.

Her pulse roared in her ears. The spider was already climbing. Every second counted.

Then—a thought.

Paper cuts.

She reached into her scroll case and pulled her last trap paper. Not as a hole. Not this time.

She crouched low on the slick glass surface and began to fold.

One crease. Then another.

Each movement was intentional, elegant—shaped not by necessity, but by vision. This wasn’t just paper. It was authority, channeled through art. And art came in many forms. Origami was one of them.

As her fingers moved, the Mirror Domain shuddered. She could feel it—another wave of resistance, like invisible hands trying to push her away, deny her will, reject her intrusion.

But this time, it was too late.

Her creation was not a trick or a hack. It was expression. And expression was sovereignty.

The domain tried to resist her—but her authority had grown sharper than the edge she folded. This was her voice. Her truth. Her domain now.

Ribbons of rainbow-colored light unfurled from her palms, twisting around the blade she shaped—a jagged triangle of pure intention, glowing brighter with each fold. Her soul hummed, resonating in harmony with the strange laws of this place, reshaping them, rewriting them.

The paper became a knife. A knife that belonged.

The spider screeched behind her.

Alexa turned—and struck.

The paper-knife slid through the silver strand like it was made of silk. The connection snapped.

The spider froze mid-climb.

Its body pulsed violently—and then began to unravel. The silver light within it bled into the air, dissipating into the dome like mist, like memory. Its legs dissolved. Its torso cracked and fell. The cocoon above quaked violently, and the fractured Crystal Heart began to absorb every shimmer of magic left around it.

The entire Domain screamed.

The mirrored chamber buckled. The spider dome cracked like an egg, shattering first. Then the ground began to melt, turning into waves of pure silver-smoke. Dozens of smaller spiders began crawling from hidden hollows in the tower—and each of them collapsed instantly, as if life itself had been stripped away.

Alexa ran.

She leapt down from the spire, bounding across the crumbling ruins. Her silver-painted legs carried her faster than ever before. One hop across a melting balcony. Another across collapsing rooftops. The last from the courtyard, straight through the glass gate she had entered through.

She landed on the grass of the outer garden, breathless, scraped, shining with sweat and paint and purpose. She turned.

The crystal pulsed like a dying star. Then—

Implosion.

A shockwave of silver light spread across the sky. The tower, the dome, the entire Mirror Domain folded in on itself, the false reality warping in a final shiver. With a sound like glass breaking across a canyon, it collapsed inward—

—and was gone.

Where once there was a domain of mirrors and monsters, now stood only an abandoned house. Crooked. Silent. Familiar.

The same sagging porch. The peeling paint. The wind chimes that no longer chimed.

She felt the earth beneath her—solid, real—and slowly lowered herself to sit on the grass, folding her legs beneath her, hands resting in her lap.

The last of the silver smoke from the imploded domain rose skyward like a departing spirit.

She watched it.

Not with fear.

Not even sorrow.

Just… stillness.

A single leaf, torn loose from a tree nearby, drifted down beside her. She caught it in her hand and turned it slowly between her fingers.

In the distance, a bird sang a strange, high-pitched trill—too high to be noticed before.

She smiled softly.

For the first time in a long while… she was not a shadow in someone else’s world.

She was the artist.

She was the author.

And the page was hers.

The door creaked as she stepped inside, the dust drifting in the air like forgotten memories. She hadn’t planned to come here, but something about it called to her. The air inside was still, thick with the smell of decay, the faint scent of musty wood and mildew creeping into her nostrils. It felt familiar—too familiar. It felt like a place that had been abandoned long before the Mirror Domain had collapsed, a place stuck between realities.

She moved deeper into the house, her eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. The air was thick with dust, and the once warm wood floors were now cracked and splintered. Light filtered weakly through the grime-coated windows, casting long, crooked shadows across the floor.

She wandered down the hall, her boots crunching softly against the dirt and debris that had accumulated over the years. She didn’t know why she came back here. Perhaps it was the need for closure, or perhaps it was a pull she couldn’t quite explain.

The first thing she found was a music box, tucked away on an old wooden shelf. She carefully took it into her hands, her fingers brushing the tarnished surface. It was a small, delicate thing, intricately carved with patterns that seemed to shimmer faintly in the dim light. A tall, lonely tower—not unlike the one she had undone minutes ago. For a moment, she thought about winding it, but instead, she simply pocketed it, its weight comforting in her hand.

Next, she found a cracked porcelain sink, full of cold water. The water caught the light in strange ways, glimmering like liquid silver. She paused for a moment, tapping the surface lightly with a finger, the sound of the water like a soft whisper in the silence. There was something serene about it. Something grounding.

But there was one last thing she needed to see. Something at the end of the hallway caught her attention, drawing her closer like a magnet.

At the far end, an old mirror hung crookedly on the wall, covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. The frame was tarnished, the glass cracked in places, but it was the spider web stretched across its surface that drew her in. There, beneath the mirror, on the floor, curled up in death, was a large spider. Its body was rigid, its legs tucked in tight. The contrast between the dust-covered, abandoned room and the still, lifeless creature was haunting.

Alexa stood frozen for a moment, watching the dead spider. It was as if the house, the world she’d just left behind, had left its mark on her—leaving behind remnants of something she couldn’t erase. Something that would never be fully gone.

She knelt down, staring at it. The spider had been a threat just minutes ago, an enemy she’d fought and conquered, but here, now, it was just... gone. It no longer held any power over her.

Her fingers twitched, and she reached out, brushing her hand over the mirror, wiping away the layers of dust that had accumulated. The cracked surface glimmered beneath her touch, almost alive in the way it reflected the room back at her. It lost its power to move her between worlds.

For a moment, she saw herself in that broken mirror. Not just as she was now, but as someone who had changed. Someone who had grown.

And for the first time in a long while, Alexa felt that the silence around her wasn’t a void. It was a space for her to exist in, to be with herself, without the chaos of the world pressing in. She stood up slowly and turned to leave.

There was no need to stay here any longer. The house had served its purpose. It had been a reminder, a place of transition. But now, it was just... empty.

As she walked back toward the door, she glanced back once more. The mirror. The spider. The water in a sink. All of it, frozen in time, captured in the stillness.

With a final breath, she stepped outside, the heavy door creaking shut behind her. The world outside was waiting for her, waiting for her to move forward.

Alexa moved slowly through the alleyway, her steps soft against the gravel and cracked pavement. The world around her was quiet—still caught in that delicate moment between day and night. Wind swept lazily through the narrow space between buildings, picking up dry leaves and spinning them into little cyclones before letting them fall again. The air was cooling rapidly, and the last golden light of the sun stretched long shadows across the ground.

The sun, too, seemed reluctant to leave.

It hovered over the horizon like a question mark—its edge touching the line between sky and earth, unsure whether it was time to slip away. For a heartbeat, Alexa could’ve sworn it changed its mind—rising again, just the tiniest bit—before finally continuing its slow descent into twilight.

She tilted her head back.

Above her, the sky had begun to darken, but not in any ordinary way. The stars had not yet come, but the moons had.

Not just one.

Dozens of them hung silently in the sky, each in a different phase—one full and round, another a delicate crescent, and others only a pale sliver barely visible against the indigo above. They hovered like watchful eyes, dispassionate, ageless, uncaring and yet impossibly beautiful. Alexa blinked at them, enchanted by the sight yet again,

The adrenaline was gone now. The momentum that had carried her through the chaos and the danger was unraveling. Her body was beginning to protest with every step. Each muscle ached. Her knees felt tight. Her shoulders were sore. Underneath the painted silver armor that still clung to her skin like second flesh, she could feel the bruises forming, radiating heat. The places where the spider had struck her throbbed deeply.

She could smell her own blood—just under the skin. Not broken, not visible, but swelling faintly beneath the surface like crushed fruit. The metallic tang mingled with sweat, faint dirt, and something darker.

She felt battered. Not just tired, but hollowed out.

And yet, she kept walking, one foot in front of the other, not because she had to… but because she was almost home.

When she opened the front door to her house, the warmth hit her like an embrace.

Light spilled out from the kitchen, soft and golden, dancing over the floors and walls like candlelight. The scent hit her next—carrots, potatoes, garlic, and herbs that sang with comfort and memory. A little wild thyme, maybe. A bay leaf. Something savory simmering gently in a pot.

She stepped into the hallway and dropped the backpack with a quiet thud, the music box and baseballs still nestled safely inside.

“Ah, there you are young lady,” came Phillip’s voice from the kitchen. He was wearing her mother’s apron—stained with years of cooking, something between charming and absurd. He peeked his head out from behind the doorway with a wooden spoon in hand and a wide grin on his face. “Welcome home. I’ve taken the liberty of invading your kitchen. Hope you don’t mind. I bring offerings.”

Alexa didn’t answer right away. Her throat was tight with something—exhaustion or gratitude or maybe just the ache of being human.”

She nodded once, then shuffled forward, finally letting the weight of the day fall away at the threshold of something warm and ordinary.

And the smell of soup—real, grounded, full of everything she had forgotten to want—wrapped itself around her like a lullaby.

“Did the hunt go the way you wished, young lady?” Phillip asked as he handed her a bowl of soup, the steam curling between them like soft silver ribbon.

Alexa accepted the bowl with a grateful nod, the warmth of it seeping into her bruised palms. She took a sip, savoring the rich, herb-filled broth before answering.

“You could say that. I destroyed the crystal heart of that Domain, but it was harder than I expected. I plan to be better prepared next time I go on such an expedition,” she said calmly between spoonfuls, her voice even, but her posture still weary—like a bow that had been strung too tight for too long.

Phillip poured himself a cup of tea, the amber liquid catching the low kitchen light. He sat down across from her with the familiar ease of someone who had always belonged there.

“Phillip, before I collapse, I’d like to ask you one more thing—something about the Domains.”

“Of course. If I know the answer, I’ll gladly share it.”

Alexa paused, cradling the bowl close to her chest as if to anchor herself. “You mentioned earlier that this Domain might not have an owner. Back then, it didn’t mean much to me… but now, after everything that’s happened, I want to understand Domains better.”

“Your Domain was born of your passion for art," Phillip said, leaning back slightly in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. "Because so many of your thoughts and emotions revolved around it, they took shape on this side, condensing into a Domain of art—waiting for you to claim it, to take control.”

Alexa nodded slowly, the lines of fatigue easing from her brow, replaced by focused curiosity.

“At first, I wasn’t sure I was ready. Just the thought of it stirred a kind of fear I couldn’t even describe.”

“Yes, that’s how it usually goes.” Phillip gave her a knowing look, eyes kind but edged with quiet truth. “Some never gather the courage to claim what they themselves have created. A Domain like that simply waits—for someone capable of taking control. Sometimes, more than one being contributes to its creation. The thoughts of people, animals, even inanimate things like stones or water gather and forge a Domain. Since humans from your world rarely cross over to this side, many Domains remain untaken, growing and twisting reality, subtly influencing your world.”

Alexa set the bowl down gently, steam still swirling from its surface. “So, if I understand correctly, someone—or something—can create a Domain, and it just… exists here, while still affecting things on my side?”

“Precisely.” Phillip nodded, his expression thoughtful. “What’s more, if a Domain remains unclaimed for long enough, the crystal may evolve and grow to such a degree that no one will be able to take control of it anymore.”

“I think I get the gist of it.” She picked up the bowl again, stirring the soup absently with her spoon. “But can an unclaimed Domain grant someone talents?”

“Usually, no.” Phillip lifted his cup, letting the steam warm his face before taking a sip. “Without forging a bond between your soul and the crystal heart, you can’t tap into the talents a Domain offers. However, in some cases—like yours—the connection can begin to form. You visited your Domain, and without even realizing it, you attempted to claim it. But you didn’t yet have the belief that you could succeed, so the crystal heart remained in the Void. Still, it reached out to you, offering a piece of its authority—that’s why your drawing, the one that strengthened Peter, actually worked.”

“I see,” Alexa murmured, her eyes lowered in reflection.

“Still,” Phillip continued, “no one from your side, even if they were responsible for shaping a Domain here, can access its authority or its gifts unless they confront the crystal heart in this world. They can, however, contribute to the Domain’s power. For example, if you had remained in your world, continuing to pour your passion into art, this Domain would’ve grown and grown. Eventually the crystal would have manifested fully—but without a connection between you and it.”

“I think that’s what’s happening in my brother’s room. He worships baseball like it’s some kind of divine relic.”

“Exactly, young lady.”

Alexa laughed softly, shaking her head. “Two last questions tonight, I promise, Phillip. And thank you—for being so open with me.”

“Of course.” Phillip gave a small, theatrical bow from his seat, his grin warming the space between them.

“First one. Can only humans take control of a Domain?”

“No. Some shadows with enough power can do it. Certain animals and plants from your world, if they manage to cross over, may also take control. The same goes for elves and the Fey.”

“Elves and Fey?” Alexa’s head snapped up from her bowl in surprise, eyes wide with sudden energy.

“Yes.” Phillip chuckled at her reaction. “Elves and the Fey are fully physical beings, very much not shadows. They once lived in your world long ago, but most of them migrated here ages past. As I mentioned this morning—tomorrow I’d like to take you to a place where you might meet both.”

“I can’t wait.” Alexa nearly vibrated with anticipation, her fatigue momentarily forgotten.

“I hope you won’t be too disappointed,” Phillip said with a sly smile. “But tonight, that’s all I’ll say.”

“Okay, now time for the second—and truly last—question of the night,” Alexa said with a slight smile, cradling the now-empty bowl in her hands like it held the fading heat of the day. She leaned back in her chair, her body visibly tired, but her mind still whirring.

“Do you think that if I paint over my bruised skin to make it look healthy, the wounds would actually heal? How do my talents even work, exactly? I don’t really understand them yet. I act more on instinct than knowledge.”

Phillip paused, thoughtfully brushing a few breadcrumbs from the table, then met her eyes.

“I assume that in this early stage of your crystal’s development, your talents only affect the surface of things—appearances, immediate impressions. You drew Peter stronger than he was, and so he was. You painted yourself a more sensitive nose, and it worked—until the paint fades. If you paint your skin to look healed, it will appear so. But as soon as the paint is gone, the wounds will return. You’ll rob yourself of the chance to heal naturally.”

Alexa nodded slowly, the corners of her mouth pulling into a small frown as she looked down at the subtle bruising beneath the silver-painted armor on her arms.

“I get it. That’s what I suspected. Inside, I can kind of feel what I can and can’t do—but it’s not completely clear.”

“Alexa,” Phillip said gently, leaning forward slightly, his voice lowering with warmth, “your crystal heart is already communicating with you. Even if you don’t fully understand it yet. Over time, as it grows, your talents will allow for far more than just superficial change.”

She blinked at him, curiosity suddenly sharpening her fatigue-dulled features. “Wait—how exactly did my drawing of Peter and the spider work? Shouldn’t he have stayed stronger the whole time as long as the sketch existed?”

Phillip smiled, as if anticipating the question. He set his teacup down with a soft clink, resting his hands together.

“I’ve encountered Domains similar to yours before. In those cases, when the surface-level circumstances changed, the enhancement disappeared. Because Peter’s fight with the spider came to an end—just as you portrayed it in your sketch—his strength faded, and the spider’s weakening vanished as well.”

"Thank you so much, Phillip. If we hadn’t met you along the way, I probably wouldn’t have dared to come back here," Alexa said, her voice soft, almost hushed by the warmth of the evening. She stretched a little, then added with a tired smile, "Pick any room you like and get a good night’s sleep."

Phillip nodded as he finished the last sip of his tea, his hands wrapped calmly around the cup.

"I’ll wash the paint off and spend the night in my Domain. Shall we meet in the morning?"

"Perfect. See you then."

Alexa rose from the table and gave a light bow — a gesture she was finding herself doing more and more lately thanks to Phillip. You’d better watch it, or you’ll start bowing to your classmates, she thought with a quiet laugh, amused by the image.

The house, consistent with what she noticed earlier had working electricity and the water ran warm, soothing against her skin.

This must be how my family sees this house — familiar, functional. That’s why it works like this here, she mused as she rinsed away layer after layer of paint. With every streak of colored water swirling down the drain, she felt her strength fade. Her body, once armored in silver, now felt raw and sore.

As soon as she washed off the dog-like nose she had painted on herself, the enhanced smell vanished — leaving the air much more comfortable to breathe. Still, it had been an awakening. There were far more scents in the world than she had ever realized.

When she stepped out of the shower, she stopped to examine the bruises and scratches on her skin in the bathroom mirror — a normal mirror this time. Whole. Unbroken. Her reflection didn’t twitch or shift or lie to her. It simply looked back, exhausted and honest. She sighed with relief, pulled on her underwear and robe, and padded down the hall into her room — into her Domain — which welcomed her with exactly the kind of warmth she now needed.

From her little wardrobe she pulled out a soft, warm pair of pajamas and quickly slipped into them.

But as she was changing, something gnawed at her thoughts: she needed to take better care of her own safety. The trust she had given Phillip, while comforting, seemed a bit too easy within the boundaries of her own Domain.

She crouched beside her bed, pulling out an old box stuffed with posters from her childhood — pop stars, actors, fragments of earlier dreams. After a quick search, she chose John Legend and pinned him up over the doorway.

Placing her hand on the poster, she summoned her authority — clear and confident now — and willed it to replace the door entirely. No one from outside could enter unless she reversed the charm herself.

John Legend, now subtly animated, gave her a small smile from the paper and began to sing softly — a lullaby just for her.

Exhausted from the day’s trials, Alexa finally crawled under the covers. With a passing thought, she decided the ceiling sky should change — shifting from its warm golden glow to a deep, star-scattered night.

The Domain responded instantly, shimmering with her will.

The gentle rainbow light that glowed from her crystal heart dimmed as well, soft and serene — like a breath held in sleep.

Her eyes fluttered closed. And with the faint lull of song and stars, Alexa finally slipped into dreams.