Elena didn't sleep that evening.
She remained in bed with the blanket drawn tight to her chest, her eyes on the mirror in the opposite corner of the room. A shawl lay draped over its frame now, but it seemed futile—like attempting to mute thunder with a sigh. Each creak of the house seemed louder now. Each shadow too motionless. Each reflection too poised.
Lily had volunteered to stay in her room, but Elena wouldn't let her. She couldn't afford to let anyone else get caught up in. whatever this was.
When morning finally broke through the blinds, she stood, legs shaking. The air was filled with the scent of old lilac and something older—like a locked library or abandoned perfume. She crossed to the vanity, pulling the shawl off the mirror with a slow hand.
Alone. Ache in eyes, wan face, lips parted slightly.
She waited.
Nothing.
And still, her skin crawled, as if unseen eyes watched behind the glass. Waiting.
By afternoon, Lily entered her room bearing breakfast and a tense smile. "You slept?"
"Hardly."
"I couldn't either," Lily admitted, placing the tray on the bed. "That. smile thing? Elena, you weren't imagining it. I felt it too. Something's off about this place."
Elena nodded in silence.
Lily sat across from her. "What do we do?"
We have to have answers," Elena said. "There are diaries—my grandmother's, and possibly others. The attic has been off-limits all these years. I believe the rest of this tale is up there."
Lily's eyes were skeptical. "You believe this is about her?"
"I believe it began with her," Elena said. "And perhaps even before her. This mirror, Julian, the dreams—I'm linked to something that does not wish to remain concealed any longer.
Lily took Elena's hand, holding it softly. "All right. Then we go. Together."
They located the attic key later that day, hidden behind a very old painting in the study—where Eleanor's handwriting had scrawled on the back: "Sometimes the truth must be locked away. Until she's ready."
They shared a look.
Elena clutched the key in her hand.
"I think I'm ready."
Elena stood before the attic door, heart thudding hard beneath her ribcage. The key felt colder than metal should, and the silence around them was thick—almost heavy.
Lily hovered behind her, holding a flashlight despite the daylight spilling through the hallway window. "This still feels like a bad horror movie," she muttered, trying to joke. "We open the attic and boom—the creepy antique doll starts talking."
"Don't say that," Elena whispered, forcing a breath.
The lock clicked.
The door creaked open on its own.
Dust swirled in the sunlight like old memories. The wooden stairs curved upward into darkness, and the air that wafted down was stale—but tinged with something floral. Faint. Familiar.
Lavender. Just like Eleanor's perfume.
They climbed.
Old trunks lined the attic walls. Faded suitcases. Cracked porcelain dolls. Furniture under cloth, like forgotten ghosts. But what stopped Elena's breath entirely was the object leaning against the far wall.
A tall cheval mirror, covered in a heavy black sheet, sealed with wax. Thick, golden wax, now cracked down the center.
"This… wasn't in the inventory," Lily said.
Elena nodded, walking toward it like in a trance.
Her fingers reached for the cloth—hesitated.
The mirror pulsed. Just once. As if breathing.
She looked to Lily. "If something happens—"
"I won't run," Lily said fiercely. "I'll throw this flashlight at it if I have to."
With a tight breath, Elena pulled the cloth away.
The mirror was beautiful. Intricately carved, antique gold vines around its edge. But the glass was wrong. It was… darker. Not dusty—dark, like it held its own night.
Her own reflection stared back. Pale. Tense. Waiting.
But the room behind her reflection—
—was not the attic.
"Elena?" Lily asked.
Elena blinked.
Her reflection smiled.
Not her.
Not her muscles.
Not her will.
It smiled first.
She stumbled back, heart racing. "Lily—"
"I saw it," Lily breathed. "Elena. I saw it too."
The mirror flickered.
For the briefest second, there was someone else in the glass.
A tall man, half in shadow.
Handsome. Hollow-eyed. Watching her.
And gone.
Elena's hands shook. "He's real."
Lily's voice was barely a whisper. "What the hell is this mirror?"