The candlelight flickered even though there was no breeze.
Elena stood in the attic again—this time alone.
Lily had refused to come back upstairs. After last night's blackout and Julian's whisper, she'd started looking up exorcists. But Elena couldn't leave it. Not now.
She wandered past the trunks and broken chairs, past the old music box that played by itself for half a second when she touched it, until she stopped at the antique vanity in the far corner. Unlike the rest of the room, it was spotless. No dust. No cobwebs. As if someone had used it yesterday.
Her fingers trailed the edge of the drawer.
She didn't expect it to open.
It did.
Inside lay a single envelope.
Faded ivory. Gold wax seal. And her name in her grandmother's elegant script.
To Elena,If you are reading this, then the mirror has awakened… and so has he.My darling girl, this story is not new to you—it's old. Older than you, older than me. Some brides are born from vows. Others… from mirrors.I've kept the truth buried, even from myself.But now, it's your turn to remember.
Whatever you see in the mirror, do not trust it fully—until it bleeds.
With love,Eleanor Harper*
Elena clutched the letter as the attic seemed to tilt slightly. The air buzzed around her skin. The mirror behind her was no longer covered.
Her reflection was gone.
In its place stood Julian.
He was closer now.
Hands pressed against the glass.
And between his palms, the surface glowed faint red.
Like it bled
Elena didn't move.
Julian's palms pressed to the inside of the mirror like he was trying to break through it. His face had sharpened in detail—no longer a mist, no longer a silhouette. Just a man—tall, heartbreakingly beautiful, and hollow with centuries of waiting.
But it was the red glow beneath his hands that made her blood run cold.
It shimmered first like wine. Then deeper. Thicker.
Like it meant something.
Like it was a message.
"Do not trust the mirror… until it bleeds."
The letter in her hand trembled.
"Julian," she whispered, breath fogging. "What does it mean?"
His lips moved. She could almost read them.
"You have always known."
Suddenly the mirror rippled. Just once. Like a heartbeat.
Elena gasped—and the entire attic dropped in temperature.
A whisper curled around her ear, though no one was there.
"Bride of the Glass."
She turned, but nothing followed.
Her head pulsed. A pressure behind her eyes. And somewhere deep in her chest… a memory. Not hers.
A woman running through a stone hallway.
A bridal gown torn at the edges.
A man—Julian—reaching for her hand as mirrors shattered all around them.
And then… black.
Elena collapsed to her knees, clutching the edge of the vanity.
The letter fluttered to the ground.
Its back had changed.
New writing.
Fresher ink.
When glass remembers, blood follows.When love is buried, time becomes a cage.Find the heart. Before the mirror finds you.
Elena sat on the attic floor, the letter shaking in her hand. The words on the back had changed again.
"You've been here before."
She stared.
"No," she whispered aloud. "I haven't. I've never—"
But her heartbeat betrayed her.The dizzying familiarity.The scent of lavender and smoke.The way Julian's eyes didn't just look at her—they looked through time.
She was losing the line between now and then.
The air around the mirror began to hum. Not loud. Low and steady. Like a violin string being plucked far away.
She looked up—and froze.
The mirror's frame was cracking.
Hairline fractures danced across the golden wood like vines, twisting downward, bleeding silver sparks at each bend.
Julian's hands dropped from the glass. He stepped back.
His face shifted—agony, fear, something ancient. He pressed one hand to his chest… and vanished.
"Elena?" came Lily's voice from the bottom of the attic stairs.
She turned. "I'm okay. I think."
Lily slowly climbed up, flashlight in hand. "I googled Eleanor Harper. Did you know your grandmother was reported missing for three years when she was younger?"
Elena's stomach turned. "What?"
Lily nodded. "She came back suddenly. No explanation. No memory of where she'd been. Just one thing she kept saying over and over: I found the heart, but not the soul."
Elena's legs nearly gave out. She leaned on the vanity.
That phrase on the back of the letter…
Find the heart before the mirror finds you.
"What if… this isn't just magic?" Elena whispered. "What if this is a curse? A cycle?"
Lily looked pale. "Like you're repeating her fate?"
She didn't answer.
Instead, she looked back at the mirror.
The cracks in the frame had stopped. For now.
But the reflection had changed again.
No longer her bedroom. No longer Julian.
Instead, a stone archway.
Covered in vines.
With a door—ajar.
And something waiting on the other side.