After that night in the woods, sleep wasn't easy to come by, but with morning, a wave of determination swept over Lily. She was so tired of being afraid, tired of sensing that she was somehow just a step behind the truth. If her grandmother had left clues, she would find them. As she mounted the stairs to the attic, the strange pull came again-the feeling that something was pushing her, urging her toward some unknown mystery.
The attic was full of all forgotten relics, dusty trunks, and broken furniture. But there was this one thing: an enormously ornate mirror that sat on a tarnished silver frame. It seemed almost too big for the place. The glass had somehow remained uncluttered by dust as if it had just been recently cleaned. Her gaze stuck to her reflection in the glass as a shiver swept down her spine; there was something wrong; the reflection wasn't in motion in sync.
She was so near that her face pressed against the cool glass of the mirror. There flashed before her eyes an image, dark and indistinct, looming in back of her reflection-its long, thin fingers reaching toward her. She felt a chill run down her spine as she jerked up her hand and clutched at the small amulet she had worn since discovering it amongst her grandmother's belongings. The vision was gone from the mirror when she turned her head back to face it, but the fear stayed with her.
She stepped back from the mirror, panting heavily, but something clicked into place in her mind as she did so. Her grandmother had written about mirrors in her journal, describing them as portals to "another side." If this was true, then perhaps this mirror was connected to the shadow haunting her. She determined to keep the mirror covered. Yet even as she drape the old sheet over it, she felt a faint, lingering whisper-as though the shadow were taunting her with the promise that it wasn't gone.