The whisper in her mind wouldn't stop. It wasn't loud, but its persistence was far more unsettling. Vivian pressed her palms against her temples, as if she could block it out, but the words burrowed deeper, threading themselves through her thoughts like poisoned ivy.
"You cannot escape… you belong to me."
"Vivian!"
Sebastian's sharp voice snapped her back to the present. He stood a few feet away, watching her with a mix of concern and urgency. She hadn't even noticed how tightly she had been gripping her arms, her nails leaving red crescents on her skin.
"You need to focus," he said, his tone firm. "The mirror thrives on fear. The more you give it, the stronger it becomes."
Vivian let out a shaky breath, trying to steady herself. "You're telling me to focus while I've got… that thing whispering in my head?" She gestured wildly toward the door at the end of the hall. "It feels like it's inside me, Sebastian. How do you expect me to ignore that?"
"You don't," he said simply, his voice low but resolute. "You confront it."
She stared at him, incredulous. "Confront it? Are you insane? You just said this thing has taken people—your father, for God's sake—and you want me to confront it?"
Sebastian's jaw tightened, his expression darkening. "It's already chosen you. Running won't help. If you leave now, it will follow you—into your dreams, your mind, your life. The only way to stop it is to face it head-on."
"Face it head-on?" Vivian repeated, her voice rising with disbelief. "And do what? Bargain with it? Tell it to back off? How do you even fight something like that?"
Sebastian stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. "You don't fight it. You outsmart it."
Vivian narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
He glanced toward the door, then back at her. "The mirror is powerful, yes. But it's not invincible. It operates on rules—binding, ancient rules. If you can understand them, you can use them against it."
Vivian crossed her arms, her skepticism evident. "And how am I supposed to figure out these 'rules'? You said no one's ever survived long enough to learn them."
Sebastian hesitated, his gaze flickering with hesitation. Then, as if steeling himself, he said, "Because someone did learn them. My father."
Her breath caught. "You said your father was taken."
"He was," Sebastian admitted, his tone heavy. "But not before he left behind… clues. Notes. He was studying the mirror for years before it finally claimed him. He believed it could be contained—maybe even destroyed—but only if you understand what it wants."
"And what does it want?" Vivian asked, though she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer.
Sebastian's green eyes locked onto hers, unblinking. "It wants to consume. Regret. Pain. Desire. It feeds on everything you've hidden from yourself, everything you've buried deep down. The more you resist, the hungrier it gets."
Vivian felt a chill crawl up her spine. "So, what—you're saying I have to let it in?"
"Not completely," he said. "You have to give it just enough to keep it satisfied—but not enough to let it consume you entirely. It's a dangerous balance, but it's the only way."
Vivian's mind was racing, her thoughts spinning out of control. Every instinct she had was screaming at her to run, to get as far away from this cursed house as possible. But deep down, she knew Sebastian was right. She could feel the mirror's pull, the way it had latched onto her like a leech. It wouldn't stop.
Taking a deep breath, she met Sebastian's gaze. "Fine. Where are these notes?"
A flicker of relief crossed his face. He gestured for her to follow him, leading her down the dimly lit hallway. The old manor seemed to groan around them, the wooden floorboards creaking with every step.
They stopped in front of a heavy, iron-bound door at the far end of the hall. Sebastian pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked it, the sound of the tumblers echoing in the silence.
The room beyond was small and cluttered, its walls lined with shelves filled with ancient tomes, yellowed papers, and strange artifacts. A single desk sat in the center, covered in what looked like maps, diagrams, and hastily scribbled notes.
"This was my father's study," Sebastian said, stepping inside. "He spent most of his life trying to understand the mirror. These are his findings."
Vivian walked to the desk, her eyes scanning the papers. There were drawings of the mirror's frame, detailed sketches of its carvings, and pages upon pages of notes written in a frantic hand.
One phrase caught her attention, scrawled in bold letters across a torn piece of parchment:
"THE MIRROR DOES NOT GIVE—IT TAKES. OFFER WISELY."
Her stomach churned as she read the words. "What does this mean?" she asked, holding up the paper.
Sebastian leaned over her shoulder, his expression grim. "It means the mirror doesn't give anything freely. If you want something from it—a truth, an answer—you have to offer something in return. And the more valuable the answer, the higher the price."
Vivian set the paper down, her hands shaking. "So, what's the price?"
Sebastian didn't answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost regretful. "Memories. Pieces of yourself. The things you hold closest to your heart. The mirror will take them, piece by piece, until there's nothing left of you but a shell."
Vivian swallowed hard, her mind racing. If what he said was true, then confronting the mirror wasn't just dangerous—it was a gamble. A game of wits where the stakes were her very soul.
She turned to Sebastian, her voice steady despite the fear coursing through her. "If I do this—if I confront the mirror—how do I make sure it doesn't win?"
He met her gaze, his expression unreadable. "You don't let it take more than you're willing to lose. And you keep one thing in mind."
"What?"
Sebastian's voice dropped to a whisper.
"Everything the mirror shows you is a lie. No matter how real it seems, no matter how much it tempts you—none of it is the truth."
Vivian felt a shiver run through her, the weight of his words settling heavily on her shoulders. She looked down at the notes spread out before her, the fragments of a man's life spent chasing answers.
She didn't know if she could do this. But deep down, she knew she didn't have a choice.
The mirror was waiting.
And it wouldn't stop until it had her.
To be continued...