The apartment became a battlefield. Shadows crawled across the walls. Candles lit themselves in a soft golden glow. The doll's voice, layered and omnipresent, drowned out Father Renner's prayers:
"Faith is not yours alone… it is mine."
The doll's porcelain body twisted unnaturally, black veins splintering across its limbs. Shadows of children merged with it, forming a writhing mass that seemed alive.
Miriam tried to focus. Every prayer left her lips without permission, twisted into commands by the doll.
Lucas gripped her hand. "Truth, Miriam. Only truth can hurt it."
She admitted her failures, her fears, her regrets. Every word of honest prayer struck the doll. Light pierced the darkness. Porcelain splintered. The shadows screamed.
For a moment, silence. The doll's form was gone. But Miriam knew — its essence had survived.