The air in Nathaniel's apartment felt heavier than usual, as though the atmosphere itself were conspiring to suffocate him. The events of the past few days replayed in his mind on an endless loop—Samuel's terrified expression in the photograph, the whispers in the forest, and the pendant that seemed to hum with a life of its own.
Nathaniel paced the length of his small living room, his fingers trailing over the cold metal of the pendant around his neck. He had tried to ignore it, to leave it untouched, but it felt fused to him now, as much a part of him as his own heartbeat. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Samuel, his gaze filled with silent accusations.
He stopped abruptly in front of the mirror that hung on the wall. It was an old thing, the frame tarnished and slightly cracked at the edges. He had found it at a flea market years ago, drawn to its antique charm. Now, though, it seemed like a portal to another world, its reflective surface casting back a version of himself that he didn't quite recognize.
Nathaniel leaned closer, studying his reflection. His face was pale, his eyes sunken with exhaustion, but it wasn't the familiar signs of fatigue that unnerved him. There was something off about his reflection—something subtle yet deeply wrong.
The pendant caught the light, its engravings gleaming faintly. For a moment, Nathaniel thought he saw the symbols shift, rearranging themselves like a living puzzle. He blinked, shaking his head.
"This is ridiculous," he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
But when he looked at the mirror again, his reflection was no longer moving in sync with him.
Nathaniel froze, his breath catching in his throat. His reflection stared back at him, unblinking, its movements eerily still. Slowly, it raised a hand—except Nathaniel hadn't moved.
The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows deepening around him. The reflection's lips began to move, forming words that Nathaniel couldn't hear. He stumbled back, his heart pounding, but his reflection didn't move with him.
"Samuel," the reflection whispered, though Nathaniel hadn't opened his mouth.
A cold dread settled over him. "What… what are you?"
The reflection didn't answer. Instead, it raised its other hand, pointing toward the pendant around Nathaniel's neck. The symbols on the pendant flared to life, glowing with a faint blue light. The hum that had haunted him since he found it grew louder, resonating in his chest.
"Let me out," the reflection said, its voice layered and distorted, like multiple people speaking at once.
Nathaniel stumbled away from the mirror, nearly tripping over the coffee table. "What do you mean, 'let you out'? Who are you?"
The reflection's face twisted into a grotesque smile, its features warping. "You already know."
Nathaniel shook his head, his back hitting the wall. "No. No, I don't."
"You do," the reflection insisted, its voice growing louder. "You left him there. You abandoned him, just like you're abandoning yourself."
The pendant burned against Nathaniel's skin, and he yanked it off, throwing it onto the floor. The glow dimmed, and the hum stopped abruptly.
When he looked back at the mirror, his reflection was normal again. It moved when he moved, its expression as terrified as he felt.
Nathaniel didn't sleep that night.
He spent hours sitting at his desk, surrounded by scattered papers, old photographs, and books he had borrowed from the library. The pendant lay in the center of the table, inert but still exuding an unsettling aura.
He had to find answers.
Nathaniel grabbed his notebook, flipping to a blank page. He began writing furiously, jotting down everything he could remember about the forest, the whispers, and the pendant. The words flowed in a chaotic stream, fragments of thoughts and questions that he couldn't yet piece together.
As the hours ticked by, his exhaustion deepened, but he forced himself to keep going. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the reflection in the mirror, its distorted smile, its chilling words.
"You abandoned him."
Had he?
Nathaniel shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. He hadn't abandoned Samuel. He had searched for him, combed through the forest for weeks after he disappeared. But he had never found him.
And now, the whispers were dragging him back.
He reached for the pendant, hesitating before picking it up. The metal was cool to the touch, the engravings still faintly glowing. He turned it over in his hands, trying to decipher the strange symbols. They looked ancient, otherworldly, like something out of a mythology he didn't understand.
A knock at the door startled him, and he nearly dropped the pendant.
Nathaniel frowned, glancing at the clock. It was nearly three in the morning. Who would be visiting him at this hour?
He approached the door cautiously, peering through the peephole. The hallway outside was empty.
Another knock sounded, louder this time.
Nathaniel swallowed hard, his pulse quickening. "Who's there?"
No answer.
His hand hovered over the doorknob, every instinct telling him to ignore it. But curiosity—and a growing sense of dread—got the better of him. He unlocked the door and opened it slowly, peering out into the dimly lit hallway.
No one was there.
Nathaniel stepped out, glancing up and down the corridor. The only sound was the faint hum of the fluorescent lights overhead.
And then he saw it.
A faint outline on the floor, just in front of his door. It was a photograph, yellowed and crinkled at the edges. Nathaniel's stomach twisted as he bent down to pick it up.
The image was of the forest—the same clearing where he had found the pendant. But this time, the photograph was different. There was a figure standing in the clearing, shrouded in shadow.
Nathaniel's blood ran cold as he turned the photograph over. Scrawled on the back in shaky handwriting were the words: "The mirror will show the way."
Nathaniel returned to the mirror, his hands trembling as he clutched the photograph. He didn't want to look into it again, didn't want to see the reflection that wasn't his. But he couldn't ignore the message.
The mirror's surface seemed darker than before, its depths impenetrable. Nathaniel took a deep breath, holding the photograph up in front of him.
"The mirror will show the way," he murmured. "What does that mean?"
As if in response, the mirror began to ripple, the glass warping like water disturbed by a stone. Nathaniel stepped back, his heart racing, as the reflection dissolved into darkness.
Shapes began to emerge—trees, gnarled and twisted, their branches clawing at the sky. It was the forest.
Nathaniel's breath hitched as the image shifted, moving deeper into the woods. The clearing appeared, the same one from the photograph, and the shadowy figure stood at its center.
"Samuel," Nathaniel whispered, his voice breaking.
The figure turned slowly, and though its face was obscured, Nathaniel felt its gaze lock onto him.
The pendant around his neck flared with light, the hum returning louder than ever. Nathaniel cried out, clutching at his chest as the light enveloped him, pulling him toward the mirror.
"Find me," the figure whispered, its voice echoing in his mind.
The last thing Nathaniel saw before everything went black was his own reflection, staring back at him with a knowing, twisted smile.