The night was heavy, the air thick with a tension that was not understandable. Charlotte sat cross-legged on her bed, the journal lay down open in front of her. The dim light from the bedside lamp reflected the ancient text, and she traced her fingers over the faded words that seemed to vibrate with a strange energy.
She couldn't shake the feeling that the journal was alive, its secrets waiting for the right moment to jump out and entangle her further in the Hargrove family's dark legacy.
The page she looked at held the prophecy—the one Evelyn had shown her.
The chosen one, marked by blood and fate, shall either end the curse or seal it for eternity. Her sacrifice will determine the Hargrove legacy.
The words repeated in her mind like a drum roll.
Charlotte's chest tightened as she tried to make sense of the secret message. Marked by blood and fate? she thought. Was this about her adoption? Or something more dangerous?
Her eyes shifted to the cracked mirror she had found in the woods. It was placed on her desk, covered in a thin cloth, but she could feel its presence. It seemed to give a humming sound with an invisible power as if waiting for her to touch it again.
Her thoughts were disturbed immediately by a knock at the door.
"Come in," she said, her voice shaking.
The door slowly opened, and Jack stepped inside, his usual smile was absent. His expression was serious, his dark eyes checking her face.
"You've been reading," he said, nodding toward the journal.
"How could I not?" Charlotte replied, her voice shaking. "This... this prophecy says I'm the one who has to break the curse. Or fulfill it. What does that even mean?"
Jack sighed and leaned against the doorframe. "It means you're at the center of all this. The curse, the rituals, the cult—they've been waiting for someone like you."
"Someone like me?" Charlotte asked. "I didn't ask for any of this!"
"I know," Jack said softly. "But fate doesn't care what we want. It only cares about balance."
Charlotte pointed to the mirror on her desk. "And this? What does this have to do with the prophecy?"
Jack's gaze flashed to the mirror, his jaw tightening. "The mirror is part of the ritual. It's a conduit—something that connects the physical world to the curse itself. It shows truths but also lies. Be careful with it."
"Truths and lies," Charlotte uttered, her frustration boiling over. "That's all I ever get—half-truths and lots of riddles."
Jack walked closer, his voice calm but firm. "Charlotte, you need to understand something. The mirror isn't just a tool, it's a test also. If you look too much at it, you might not like what you see."
Charlotte's body shook upon hearing, his words sending a chill down her spine.
That night, Charlotte kept turning in her bed, unable to sleep. The journal's words kept playing in her mind, and the mirror seemed to call to her from across the room.
Eventually, exhaustion filled her body, and she went into a restless sleep.
She found herself standing in a dark, candlelit room. The walls were designed with ancient symbols, and the air filled with a strange energy. In the center of the room stood the cracked mirror, its surface shining with a dangerous light.
Around her were the Hargrove family and cloaked cult members, their faces covered by shadows. Jack stood on one side, his expression harsh, while Evelyn stood on the other, her face a mix of fear and determination.
Charlotte tried to move, but her feet remained firm on the ground and didn't shake. She looked down and saw that the floor under her feet was covered in blood-red symbols, all pointing toward her.
"You're the key," a voice sounded in her ear.
Charlotte turned, but no one was there.
the mirror's glowing increased, and the room seemed to be shifting. The cult members began chanting, their voices growing louder and louder until they were extremely noisy.
Charlotte screamed, but no sound came out. The mirror's surface looked squeezed, and suddenly, she saw her own reflection—but it wasn't her. The reflection smiled at her, its eyes shining with a threatening light.
This is your destiny, the reflection said, its voice sounding in her mind.
Charlotte rushed to wake, her heart pounding in her chest. Sweat flowed from her body, and her breath was shaky due to the dream she just had.
For a moment, she thought everything must have been a dream. But then she heard a small whisper, which wasn't with sound, but noticeable.
"Charlotte..."
She froze, her eyes checking around the room. The sound was coming from everywhere all at once without any particular place to point.
"Who's there?" she asked with a shaking voice.
The calling of her name sounded again, louder this time. "Charlotte..."
Her eyes moved to the mirror, still covered by the cloth. But the cloth was shining, a soft, beating light come out from under it.
Her heart raced as she approached the desk. She hesitated, her hand moving over the cloth.
The whispers grew louder, more urgent.
"Charlotte... Look..."
With her shaking fingers, she pulled the cloth away.
The mirror's surface shone with a mysterious light, and as she looked into it, the whispers became words.
You cannot escape your fate.
Charlotte staggered back, her mind twisting. The glow increased, and for a moment, she thought she saw faces inside the mirror—familiar faces, twisted with fear and anger.
Was she meant to break the curse? Or fulfill it?
As the night went on, Charlotte resolved to find the truth—no matter the cost.
Suddenly, the light vanished, and the room went silent. The mirror returned to its cracked, lifeless state, but Charlotte knew better.
The mirror wasn't just an object. It was alive.
Charlotte sat on the edge of her bed, her hands shaking as she handled the journal.
She couldn't lie to herself any more about all that was happening. The prophecy was real, and she was connected to it all. But the visions, the whispers, the mirror—they raised more questions than answers.
And one question stood above all the others.