Episode 3: The Whispering Dolls

Arielle couldn’t stop thinking about the name: Elias Vaughn.

The moment she saw it, something in her chest twisted — not fear, not yet, but something that felt like a half-forgotten ache.

When she returned to her dorm that evening, she slipped the tiny wooden door from her pocket. The gold letters on the back now shimmered brighter, as if reacting to the name still echoing in her mind.

Lydia wasn’t in the room. The light flickered. The air felt colder, heavier.

On the desk sat an old porcelain doll. Arielle frowned — she’d never seen it before. Its cracked face smiled blankly, and one glass eye was missing. A tag tied to its neck read:

“Welcome back, Arielle.”

Her breath caught. “Who put this here?” she whispered.

The doll’s head twitched.

Arielle stumbled backward, knocking over her chair. The doll fell too, but instead of shattering, it rolled upright again. Its good eye gleamed faintly red.

Then she heard it — a whisper so faint she thought she imagined it.

“He’s waiting in the mirror.”

“No,” Arielle murmured, shaking her head. “This isn’t real. I’m dreaming.”

But the mirror on the wall behind the doll rippled like water, and the reflection of the room twisted. The reflection showed her bed — but in it lay a girl that looked exactly like Arielle… eyes open, staring at the ceiling.

Arielle screamed and ran for the door — but it wouldn’t open. The knob turned uselessly. The doll’s whisper grew louder.

“He’s lonely… he needs you.”

Lightning flashed outside, and suddenly Elias was there, reflected in the mirror behind her. His eyes were soft but filled with sorrow.

“Stop running,” he said gently. “You came here because of me.”

Arielle turned. “Why me?”

He stepped closer, his voice low, almost breaking. “Because you promised.”

“I never promised you anything!” she cried.

He smiled faintly, but his expression wasn’t cruel — it was heartbreak itself. “Not in this life.”

The mirror flickered, showing flashes: a girl in old-fashioned clothes laughing beside him, a locket glinting in her hand, and then fire — screaming, smoke, the dorm burning.

Arielle gasped. “That’s not me.”

He looked down. “It was. Once.”

The mirror cracked down the middle, and the vision vanished. The doll’s head snapped toward her, voice shrill now:

“Don’t leave him again!”

Arielle grabbed the tiny wooden door and slammed it against the mirror. The glass shattered, and the doll went silent, collapsing like a puppet whose strings were cut.

She stood shaking, chest heaving, eyes burning with tears.

When Lydia burst in seconds later, Arielle could barely speak. “The mirror—there was a boy—”

Lydia froze at the sight of the shattered glass. “You… saw him?”

Arielle nodded weakly.

Lydia’s face went pale. “You shouldn’t have answered him. Once he knows your name, he won’t stop.”

“Who is he?”

Lydia hesitated, lowering her voice. “Elias Vaughn. He was the founder’s son. Died in the dorm fire almost a century ago. They say he fell in love with a girl who betrayed him — set the fire herself and ran away. Since then, he’s been trapped here… waiting for her to return.”

Arielle’s heart thudded painfully. “That’s insane.”

“Is it?” Lydia whispered. “Every girl who’s ever stayed in this room — Room 213 — sees him.”

Arielle looked down at the doll again. The tag still glowed faintly in the dark.

Welcome back, Arielle.

That night, she couldn’t sleep. She kept hearing faint tapping on the window, like fingernails on glass.

At 3 a.m., she sat up. The wooden door on her nightstand was glowing again. She picked it up — and this time, when she opened it, she didn’t see wood on the other side.

She saw a hallway.

The same one from her dreams. Candles floating on water.

And at the far end stood Elias, hand outstretched.

“Arielle,” he said softly. “Come home.”

Her body moved before her mind could stop it. She stepped forward, through the glow — and the air changed.

The sound of dripping water echoed around her. The hallway was real now, endless and dim. The candles flickered.

“Where am I?” she whispered.

Elias’s voice came from somewhere ahead. “Where you left me.”

She followed the sound, her bare feet splashing softly. Along the walls hung hundreds of dolls — suspended by invisible strings, their heads turning as she passed. Their porcelain mouths whispered one word in unison:

“Promise… promise… promise…”

Arielle clutched the wooden door tight. “Elias, please—why are you showing me this?”

He appeared at the end of the hall, his eyes glowing faintly now. “Because I want you to remember why you left.”

The dolls began to hum that same haunting lullaby from her dreams. The air thickened with smoke, and the smell of roses returned.

Arielle’s head spun. Memories flickered — her mother’s face, a fire, a boy’s scream.

She dropped the door and fell to her knees. “What are you saying? That I’m her? That I burned you?”

He knelt beside her, touching her cheek. His hand was cold, but his voice was warm. “You didn’t mean to. You tried to save me. And now… we can finish what we started.”

A tear slid down her face. “I’m alive. You’re not.”

His smile broke. “Then let me live through you.”

Before she could speak, the candles went out. All the dolls turned toward her at once — their eyes glowing red.

The last thing she heard before everything went black was his whisper:

“Don’t leave me again, Arielle.”

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