The laugh echoed through the darkness, sending shivers down Lena's spine. It was soft at first, barely a whisper, but it grew louder with each passing second, curling around her like a serpent. She instinctively took a step back, her heart racing, her mind whirling with confusion and fear.
Ravyn's presence was suffocating now, as though he were everywhere and nowhere all at once. The air felt too thick, too heavy, and the oppressive weight of the shadows was unbearable.
I need to get out of here. But the thought was quickly replaced with doubt. Where would she go? There was no escape, no doorway back to the world she had known. She was trapped in this place, a world of darkness that clung to her every move.
The silence lingered, thick and suffocating, before Ravyn's voice finally broke through again, low and smooth, almost playful.
"You've done well, Lena," he purred. "You've taken the first step. But now… the consequences of your actions will begin to unfold."
Lena swallowed, her throat dry. "What does that mean?" she asked, her voice shaky despite her best efforts to sound confident.
"It means," Ravyn's voice drifted around her, echoing in the endless space, "that the mirror doesn't offer its gifts without a price. It's a dangerous thing, Lena. You've awakened power that was meant to remain dormant."
Lena's heart skipped. "What power?"
There was a pause, a moment of absolute stillness before Ravyn spoke again. "The power of this world," he said softly, his voice no longer playful but heavy with warning. "The power that controls everything here. And now, it's tied to you. You cannot leave until it's either claimed you… or you've claimed it."
Lena's stomach twisted. She thought back to the figure—the shadowy figure that had appeared out of nowhere, its eyes glowing with an ominous light. Had she… had she brought it to life? Was she the one who had awakened whatever it was that had been slumbering in the dark?
And if so… what had she unleashed?
A cold sweat broke out on her skin as the weight of Ravyn's words sank in.
"Why me?" Lena whispered, almost to herself. "Why did it choose me?"
Ravyn's laugh, low and knowing, slithered through the darkness once more.
"You don't get to choose, Lena," he said softly. "You never did. This world chooses its own."
The ground beneath her shifted, just slightly at first, but enough to make her stumble. She caught herself, steadying herself with her hand pressed flat against the cold stone beneath her. But then, the ground trembled again. The very walls of the space seemed to shake with a violent force, as if the world itself was reacting to her presence.
"What's happening?" she gasped, her pulse racing in her throat.
Ravyn's shadowed figure loomed ahead, his eyes glinting with an eerie light. "The world knows you're here now," he said, his smile more unsettling than ever. "And it wants something in return."
Lena's legs trembled, but she forced herself to stay standing. "What does it want?"
"You," Ravyn answered simply, his voice almost a whisper.
A deafening crack split the air, and the ground beneath Lena's feet crumbled. She gasped as her world tilted, and before she could react, she was falling—falling through the darkness, surrounded by an endless abyss.
But just as quickly as it had begun, it stopped.
Lena opened her eyes. She was no longer standing in the vast, empty space. Now, she was in a small, dimly lit room. The air smelled different here—heavy with the scent of ancient books and dust. The shadows clung to the corners, but they were not as oppressive, not as all-consuming.
Lena's breath came in short bursts as she tried to steady herself. She stood in the middle of a chamber, the walls lined with bookshelves stretching up to the ceiling, filled with books so old they looked as if they could crumble at the touch. And at the far end of the room, another mirror—this one framed in gold—stood, its surface reflecting only darkness.
"What is this place?" Lena whispered, her voice trembling as she took a cautious step forward.
"It's where the true game begins," Ravyn's voice whispered from the shadows, sending a chill down her spine.
She turned toward the voice, but there was nothing in the room with her. The figure—the figure she had seen earlier—loomed in the mirror. Its glowing eyes watched her, cold and unblinking.
Lena's breath caught in her throat as she stumbled backward, her mind racing.
"What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice suddenly stronger, more defiant. She didn't know what this place was, or who this figure was, but she had had enough. She was done being a pawn in whatever game this was.
The figure in the mirror tilted its head, its eerie smile twisting.
"You've already given me what I want," it replied, its voice low and guttural, like the sound of cracking stone. "You've opened the door, Lena. And now, you must walk through it."
"Walk through it?" she echoed, confusion flooding her. "What does that mean?"
The figure stepped closer to the mirror's surface, and for a moment, it seemed as if the glass itself rippled like water. The air around Lena grew thick with a palpable energy, an overwhelming sense of power that felt both thrilling and terrifying.
"If you want to survive," the figure said, its voice cold as ice, "you must play the game. And there will be no mercy for those who refuse."
Lena's blood ran cold as the mirror began to distort once again, the surface rippling as though the world behind it was calling her, urging her forward. But she knew, deep down, that stepping into that world would be a choice—one that would bind her to its rules forever.
And just as she opened her mouth to ask the figure more questions, the mirror shattered.
Sharp, jagged edges flew toward her, but before she could react, everything went dark.
A single whisper echoed in the silence.
Welcome to the game, Lena.