Chapter 3 - Mercury p2

Rewrote: Same events, change in execution - 15/12/2025

He blinked, seeing an elevated wide‑shot of the apartment.

That’s all “Xxxxx” saw for some time.

He felt dissociated, empty, his sense of self a distant haze.

Muffled sounds drifted from the room.

“Young Master, Xxxxx, wake up!”

He looked straight down. Someone hurt?

An arm stuck out from beneath the overturned couch.

The room flashed with light, and a pulse nudged everything toward the looming blob.

The blob, however, had become a mirror.

“Master Xxxxx, snap out of it!” Hendrix shouted, covering his eyes and stretching his arm.

“Xxxxx” looked from his body to Hendrix, his head bobbing against the ceiling.

The mirror’s surface rippled and began expanding.

Hendrix responded by stepping back and marking four points on the mirror, forming a kite-shape.

He drew the North mark with his right index finger, thin wisps of gentle light trailing behind his flick.

The mirror hummed low, pushing for more purchase and rattling the already displaced dining‑room chairs.

A low grunt slipped from Hendrix.

He pulled his arms back, lowered his stance, and thrust them into the East and West points.

Simultaneously, his left pinky carved the West point, his middle finger the East.

A steady airflow swept the apartment; curtains danced and kitchen utensils joined the second round of interior redecoration.

Hendrix clenched his fist.

An air current surged from his ankles; the bedroom doors creaked in protest.

All the marks emitted a frequency, twisting and synchronising in canon until they harmonised with a sharp click.

The mirror fractured.

Hendrix looked back at Xxxxx. He alone stood between the growing force and his late master’s heir.

He clenched his jaw and delivered the final push.

The South mark appeared; he punched both fists into it, rotated his wrists, and interlocked his fingers. West, East, and South marks pulsed, while the North mark expanded, ticking toward the binding’s completion.

Handprints began indenting the wall behind the mirror.

Hendrix?

Hendrix bared his teeth, flowing into a series of stances; each one invigorated a mark and further upset the mirror.

The mirror screeched.

Xxxxx clasped his head as his form flickered wildly.

“Stop it. Stop screaming. I don’t… I don’t know what that is!”

A light pop heralded the appearance of an ethereal bird.

The mirror frantically struggled against the binding, sensing the end; the marks pulsed, holding it in place.

Hendrix relaxed one arm and lifted a finger.

The bird landed on it.

“Please, begin with the Young Master.”

The bird chirped and dove toward Xxxxx’s hovering projection.

It hovered before his ethereal face, berating him with chirps.

His flickering form began to glow.

The bird whirled around him, chirping madly.

Xxxxx’s body jolted, flipping the couch over and freeing it.

Spiraling downward around his form, it pulled out of its descent and shot toward the mirror.

The bird entered the mirror; it tilted back and groaned like old steel.

Cupboards and drawers ceased banging; the curtains sagged lifelessly.

Utensils, electronics, and furniture fell once more.

The hand‑print indents receded with a hiss.

The chaos fell into silence.

The mirror vibrated; the cracks webbed until it shuddered silently into shards, then dust, then… nothing.

Where… am I?

He looked down. His body twitched.

His ethereal eyebrows jumped up and pulled towards the centre.

Is that my-my body?

“It’s about time, Young Master,” he said, easing out of the pose and straightening himself.

“Hendrix? What happened?” he asked. “The last thing I remember is holding the box, then I felt… blank.”

“Well, as unfortunate as that may be for you, it was an opportunity I couldn’t let squandered.”

Hendrix pulling out a talisman was the last thing Xxxxx saw.

•••

Door creaks open.

“Hey, kiddo. Another nightmare?”

Gabriel stepped out from behind the door, fiddling with the hem of his pajamas, his head tilted down.

He nodded.

“You’re still too old to snuggle with your mom?”

“I’m a little shorter than the other kids, but I’m still twelve. I’ve earned my stripes,” he defended.

“You are a growing boy. I’ll understand if you don’t want to add onto those shameful memories you’re trying to purge,” she said, waving a hand side‑to‑side.

He looked back into the hallway as her voice trailed off.

“I can make exceptions,” he replied.

Gabriel walked over to his mother, feeling safer with each step… and the farther he moved from the mirror in the hallway.

•••

Xxxxx didn’t have much as far as interior decoration went; his apartment would’ve been better off without him.

Kitchen drawers and cabinet doors hung ajar.

One dining‑table leg stuck out from behind the kitchen counter.

The TV lay on the dining‑room floor, its plastic and electronics scattered; the walls were cracked.

The only good thing from the encounter was that it destroyed the hideous vase Aunt Sophia had given him on a birthday.

Xxxxx opened his eyes.

“Don’t get up just yet, Young Master.”

Xxxxx blinked a few times, looking from the ceiling to Hendrix, who was looking down at him.

“Hendrix…” he groaned. “What is the Fold?”

Hendrix just looked at Xxxxx; Xxxxx could tell he was surprised.

“Folds are liminal spaces connected to the psychology or history of a building,” Hendrix explained.

He stared at the ceiling, covering his face with an arm.

Evening traffic sounds filled the apartment.

He lay there awake, saying nothing. Hendrix nudged a chair, then sat down in silence beside him.

When he was ready, he asked, “Does the structure of a building shape the logic of these pocket dimensions?” Hendrix nodded. “And the inhabitants.”

Hendrix nodded. “And the inhabitants.”

Xxxxx frowned.

He lifted a hand; Hendrix stood, clasped it, and pulled him to his feet.

“What did you see?”

Xxxxx stumbled, turning the nearest upturned chair into a crutch.

“Not so much saw as heard,” he said, holding the back of his head. “The Folds call. All will fall.”

Hendrix remained silent.

Xxxxx lifted his hand, and a coin appeared as though it had always been there.

He looked at it. Hendrix moved to the window, parting the curtain slightly and surveying the city.

“Hendrix, the way the coin always seems to appear in my hand… is that some kind of reality-warping?”

The coin glistened.

Xxxxx noticed Hendrix eyeing the coin.

“I take that as a yes. Is that why you couldn’t tell me to simply avoid the box altogether?”

“Yes,” he replied, blinking a few times.

“Was Grandfather…”

Hendrix lightly touched his ear; a gesture he’d taught Xxxxx when he was younger, meaning it wasn’t safe to talk openly.

Xxxxx waddled to the damaged kitchen counter and ran a finger along a crack.

He placed the coin on the counter and tapped it twice.

Hendrix tugged on his glove. One tug for yes. Two, no.

“What can you tell me, then?”

“I’ve gathered this much from the encounter. The missing coin has been claimed.”

Xxxxx felt a wave of unease stir.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

“The trials have been triggered far sooner than projected.”

“Projected by who? Grandfather?”

“No. Your Grandfather…”

Xxxxx lifted himself onto the counter and sat, slouching, staring at his thighs, uncertain how to feel.

“You should rest, Young Master.”

“Right now I need answers. I almost died because of this!” He thrust the coin into the air.

Hendrix righted a couch that leaned vertically against the wall, dusted it, and moved toward Xxxxx.

“Take this,” Hendrix offered.

He took the vial, looked at it, then at Hendrix.

“It’ll heal your wounds over a short period of time.”

“You have health potions?” he said in disbelief, examining the item he knew only existed in games.

Hendrix moved to the wall that bore hand‑print indents from the fight, examined it, looked up, then back down.

“An entity,” Hendrix paused. He looked at the box.

“An entity periodically selects people for a process.”

Xxxxx drank the potion while listening.

“What you were warning me about earlier,” he said, wincing at the taste.

Hendrix nodded, retrieved the box hidden under a carpet flap, moved it to the kitchen counter, and placed it near Xxxxx.

“Will I be able to do what you just did?”

Hendrix remained silent.

A weak chuckle escaped him. “Theon is going to lose his marbles!” he said, tossing the vial into the air and catching it.

A reprimanding pulse from the box rattled the open cupboards and drawers.

Xxxxx tensed, his heart thumping.

“You must take these challenges seriously. Remember the language and pay attention to subtle signs,” Hendrix said, looking at him.

“Is that how this entity communicates? Anything but direct conversation?”

Hendrix tugged his glove once.

A familiar chirping came from Hendrix.

Hendrix looked up, tilted his head, and nodded.

“I must leave. It’s advisable that I keep two of the coins until you complete the trials.”

Xxxxx opened the box and presented them to him.

Hendrix pulled out an envelope version of his talismans and slipped them in.

“How long will that be?”

The ceiling cracked; the cupboards and drawers opened and closed furiously.

Xxxxx hopped off the counter and crouched defensively.

“It’s alright, Young Master. The worst is over for now,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“All that means is I need to go and you need to accept the challenge. You have three days.” Hendrix looked at him, nodded, and left.

Hendrix looked at him, nodded, and promptly left.

Xxxxx watched him leave.

He then pulled out his phone and dialed.

“Hello.”

“Theon. Order food and bring out the good stuff. You will not believe the shit I’ve been-“

The call disconnected.

Xxxxx scowled at his phone.

You have a new notification.

He tapped it.

//Amateur Pen Masters\

Join: yes/no