Charlotte stood at the entrance to the hidden room, her heart pounding as she kept looking around her to ensure she wasn't followed or watched. The heavy iron door made a loud noise as it shut behind her, sealing her inside the very quiet chamber. Shadows danced across the walls from the faint light coming out from the cracked mirror, which was placed on the ancient altar.
The air was heavy and thick with a feeling of fear. The whispers had stopped the moment she entered, leaving a scary silence in the chamber. Charlotte held firmly onto the journal close to her chest as she stepped forward, drawn to the small shining coming from the artifact.
The mirror vibrated faintly as if it was alive, its cracks looked like human veins spreading across its surface. Something about it felt more scary now, as if it were waiting for her.
Charlotte waited a while before moving closer. Her fingers went through the mirror's cold, cracked surface, and the faint glow increased. To her utmost surprise, a hidden opening within the mirror's frame slid open, bringing out a folded piece of paper.
Her hands kept shaking as she took the page and unfolded it. The handwriting matched the journal's—a mix of hurried writing and deliberate strokes. But this page was different. It carried a warning that made her breath seized in her chest.
"To break the curse is to scatter the ties that bind it to this family. But beware—freedom comes at a cost. Blood will spill, and the chosen one must bear the burden of the sacrifice. The curse is not of this estate alone but rooted in an ancient bond with a greater force. Its reach moves far beyond these walls."
Charlotte's breath seized in her chest. The curse wasn't just a Hargrove family secret—it was tied to something older, something general for anyone connected or not connected to the Hargrove family.
She read on, her eyes checking the secret notes hurriedly written in the margins.
"The entity demands balance. To end its grip on one, it must claim another. The mirror is the key—a gateway to its realm. Beware the moment it shatters, for then it will walk among us."
Charlotte's mind raced. The ritual wasn't just about her or the family's prosperity. It was part of a larger, more dangerous design. The cult wasn't simply using the Hargrove it was keeping its power, ensuring its influence spread across generations and beyond. " so this thing gave the Hargrove prosperity so that it will remain relevant in decades to come once the sacrifices are carried out" Charlotte said to herself.
Her heart seized for a moment as the realization hit her. Breaking the curse might save her and Evelyn, but it could release something far worse than what they are experiencing at the moment. "what is to be done now, Are we going to continue this practice for fear of the unknown?" She asked herself again without expecting an answer from anything or anyone.
The page ended with one final note, written in haste as though the writer had been in a panic.
"The chosen one must decide: bind the curse anew or sever its ties forever. But the latter comes at an unspeakable cost—one that may doom us all."
Charlotte stepped back, her legs shaking. The journal had always hinted at sacrifice, but now it was clear. There was no simple solution. Every choice came with a price.
"What am I supposed to do?" she whispered, her voice shaking.
The mirror's glow reduced at the mention of her question, as though mocking the question.
Suddenly, the whispers returned, louder and more serious than ever. They kept circling around her, filling the room with an unbearable noise. Charlotte covered her ears, but it did nothing to reduce or shut the noise off totally.
The mirror began to vibrate violently on the altar, its cracks increasing further on its surface.
"No," Charlotte whispered, stepping back. "Stop!"
With a deafening crack, the mirror shattered, pieces of the mirror flying across the room. Charlotte covered her face, bent herself to the ground to avoid being cut or injured, her heart kept racing as silence occurred once more.
When she lowered her arms, the air in the room had changed. It was colder and heavier. A shadowy figure stood where the mirror had been, its transparent form shining faintly.
The figure turned to Charlotte, its empty eyes looking firmly at her eyes straight without shifting.
"Charlotte," it whispered, its voice soft yet chilling.
Charlotte's legs felt flexible and hard to hold her up, but she forced herself to stay standing. "Who... who are you?" she managed to say.
The figure tilted its head, its expression unreadable. "A warning," it replied, its voice sounding unnaturally. "The choices before you are not what they seem. The curse binds more than you know. Break it, and you may harm those beyond this house."
Charlotte's mind raced. "What does that mean? What am I supposed to do?"
The figure raised a ghostly hand, pointing at her. "Decide, chosen one. But beware—your path will shape the fate of many."
Before Charlotte could ask more, the figure began to reduce gradually, its form scattering like smoke. The whispers disappeared with it, leaving her alone in the cold, silent chamber.
Charlotte fell down to her knees, holding the torn journal page in her hands firmly. The shattered mirror lay in pieces around her, its glow completely gone. She felt the weight of the decision pressing down on her, heavier than ever.
The whispers may have stopped, but their message stayed and it kept playing in her head.
Charlotte looked closely at the page, her eyes went to the threatening words: "The chosen one must decide."
Somewhere in the around the chamber, a door creaked open, and footsteps sounded in the hallway. Charlotte turned sharply, her heart pounding.
"Who's there?" she called, her voice shaking.
The footsteps stopped, and the whispers returned—soft, mocking, and chillingly familiar.