Chapter 42 — The Laughing Flame
The mirror trembled.
Rowan took a step back, breath shallow. It didn't reflect the room correctly—he'd noticed that earlier. The desk was angled wrong in the glass. The shadows fell in ways that didn't match the light. His own reflection stood just slightly out of sync, a heartbeat behind.
A soft sound broke the silence.
Not from the mirror.
From the book.
A feminine laugh.
Soft. Cruel. Familiar in the way a blade's edge is familiar after the second cut.
The book fell from the desk.
Untouched.
It hit the wooden floor with a dry thud.
Then caught fire.
It didn't smolder. Didn't hesitate. Just ignited. Paper and ink became orange fury.
The fire spread.
Instant. Voracious.
The desk went up next. Then the walls. The corners of the room ignited like they'd been soaked in accelerant. Smoke thickened in seconds, curling along the ceiling, licking downward.
There was no door. No window. No way out.
Rowan spun, looking for anything—but the fire was too fast. Too total. The heat slammed into him like a wave of teeth. Sweat burst from his skin, then evaporated just as quickly. His lungs screamed with every breath. The air tasted of burning paint and boiled flesh.
He turned to the mirror.
His reflection was smiling.
Too wide.
Its eyes were wild with glee. It laughed without moving its lips, a soundless joy that rang in Rowan's skull like a cracked bell.
He backed away.
But the fire reached him.
It kissed his legs first. Then his chest. Then his arms.
Then it devoured him.
He screamed.
It didn't help.
The pain wasn't pain anymore. It was a thing that climbed inside him and took root. It scraped bone. It chewed marrow. He rolled across the floor, trying to extinguish it, but the flames didn't die. They just followed. Eager. Relentless.
His skin blackened. Peeled. Regrew. Peeled again.
The mirror cracked.
Then the reflection moved.
Not mimicked.
Moved.
It reached out.
Gripped the edge of the mirror frame with both hands. The glass warped around its fingers as it pulled itself forward.
Outward.
Like the surface of the mirror was water. Like gravity had forgotten which direction mattered.
The reflection climbed out.
It looked exactly like Rowan.
Except for the smile.
And the eyes.
No fear. No hesitation. Just amusement. Glee. It stepped from the mirror into the fire as though it were wading through mist.
It didn't burn.
The flames curled around its limbs, eager to lick at him the way they had torn at Rowan's flesh.
But nothing happened.
The reflection walked through it. Clean. Whole. Bright-eyed.
Rowan writhed, every movement a fresh scream of nerves. His throat scraped itself bloody from the inside. He could feel his fingers blistering. The nails had begun to peel.
The reflection walked closer.
No rush.
No fear.
Its bare feet clicked softly against the burning wood, unaffected. Its smile grew wider.
Rowan tried to crawl away. His limbs didn't listen.
The fire kept him where he was.
The heat made it impossible to think. Everything blurred into color and sensation. His ears rang. His blood boiled. His vision pulsed with flashes of white and red.
The reflection stood over him.
Tilted its head.
Grinned.
No sound.
But Rowan heard it.
The laugh wasn't in his ears. It was inside him. A vibration, a scraping tickle along his spine. It made his molars ache. His skull buzzed like hornets trapped inside.
The reflection crouched.
Still smiling.
Its hands reached forward.
Rowan flinched.
But the reflection didn't touch him.
It just watched.
The fire roared around them.
The room—if it had ever been a room—was gone. Walls melted into sheets of living flame. The floor pulsed. The ceiling groaned.
Rowan's nerves shredded. He couldn't scream anymore. Couldn't breathe. The pain had changed again, evolved into something deeper. Quieter. Like he was becoming part of the fire.
His mind began to unravel.
The reflection never stopped laughing.
It leaned closer.
Their foreheads nearly touched.
Rowan stared into his own face, but it wasn't his.
The thing behind that smile had never been him. Never would be.
The fire reached his eyes.
He saw stars.
The world spun.
Then everything
went
black.