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Mirror, Mirror - A Celestial University Story
The sun was beginning to set over the glittering and shadow-woven grounds of the Celestial University, the famed interdimensional college of magic. The first chill of autumn was in the air, as outside the arching windows of the library, leaves drifted down from dying trees. Korvis, a fifth-year senior, watched as they fell. Watching the seasons change used to always be so melancholy… but this time, Korvis simply felt numb. Other things were on his mind—bigger things. Moments like this would no longer matter after today.
It had taken more than a year of intensive research, which began running feverishly apace ever since he had found the Mirror. He couldn’t recall when or where—the artifact had some effect on the mind, his investigations revealed that—but the Mirror had rapidly become the center of his life, to an obsession. At first, it promised to be nothing more than an interesting research item, maybe a good subject for his undergraduate thesis. But as he spent more time with it, it began to do more—it promised him revenge. It promised him resolution, for the mistakes of his past... All Korvis had to do was find the correct set of spells to activate the Mirror, and all would be done. He found just the necessary spells in an old, hidden tome in the University library.
Tonight, it would be done. Korvis stood up and took the book to check it out. He would need to have it on hand for the ritual…
Along with the knife.
“Korvis, Unicorn Dormitory, room 422. Checking this one out.”
As she worked the library desk, Samantha looked up, and eyed Korvis warily. She knew of him quite well, though not personally. He was apparently a shady figure—supposedly, he’d hurt a relative or something not too long ago. People typically gave him a wide berth because of that, which made sense: someone capable of doing something like that, without good reason, that was not someone you really wanted to associate with, right?
Yet, despite herself… she felt bad for him. From the literal trials she went through in her hometown, Samantha knew what it felt like to be ostracized, especially if it really was something outside of your control, like what some said. Really, she’d always meant to say something to Korvis—ask how he was, but, well…
As though to demonstrate, she gave it a shot, just as she finished up his paperwork.
“H-Hey, uh…”
Korvis turned to her, with dark eyes and even darker expression. “Yes?”
Samantha shrunk.
“Ne—Never mind,” she stammered, losing her nerve at the older upperclassman’s glare. “I uh, I thought you’d—you’d forgotten something.” She chuckled nervously, gesturing at the scattered books and papers and trinkets on the library’s checkout desk. “People are always losing things—you know how it is…”
Kovris stared at her for what seemed like an eternity… then simply shrugged.
“Sure, whatever.”
Korvis went on his way without another word. Samantha watched him as he went down the hall. An unaccountable feeling of dread filled her as she watched him go…
Night began to fall. Walking briskly, Korvis finally made it to his dorm—room 422. Finally, he was alone, yet not for long…
Korvis approached the Mirror, set down the book, pausing for a moment to review the writing before speaking. No exotic rites or objects were needed—only the right set of whispers. Yet the ritual was complicated and very precise, and he needed to follow the instructions closely.
He did so, whispering with his eyes glued to the page—without noise, Korvis’ image slowly disappeared from the Mirror in front of him. Instead, another figure began to form in front of the mirror, fading gently into reality.
Korvis finished the chant, and looked up at the figure, now fully formed. There were no introductions needed. The appearance of the man from the door was more foreign to the man from the mirror than the other way around, but both recognized what they were looking at: themselves. The figure materializing before the Mirror was a young man, barely an adult—he still had spots on his face. This was Korvis when he first decided to apply to Celestial University, just after his eighteenth birthday, almost five years ago. Despite the lack of scruff and brighter eyes, it was recognizably the same man who watched opposite him.
It was the Younger Korvis who spoke first, staring at the Elder in disbelief.
“What in the Thirty-Seven Hells—“
“You’re done,” replied Elder Korvis.
Younger Korvis blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You’ve ruined your life.” A wretched, terrible snarl of a smile crossed the elder’s face, dry lips twisting upwards. “Look at me. I’m proof.”
Scared and confused, Younger Korvis backed away, hand reaching back for the mirror to try and leave the way he came—his throat tightened when it met only solid silver.
“Y-You’re proof of nothing,” Younger Korvis muttered, fumbling with his wand as he looked away. “Nothing, except that I must have pissed off some seriously screwed-up illusionist, because this isn’t—“
With a sudden blur of motion, Elder Korvis reached forward and snatched the younger’s wand, and snapped it in two. On the table besides, another wand—identical in every way but some slight aging—snapped in half, at exactly the same time. Younger Korvis’ eyes became saucers as he saw this, and Elder Korvis sneered.
“Does this LOOK like an illusion to you?”
It certainly did not. Illusions were incapable of directly interfering with magical foci—basic safety training was to focus on it, in order to ground yourself. Stripped of his focus—the instrument of his magical abilities—panic began to set in for the teenage Korvis, and he began to hyperventilate, staggering back, trying to get away from himself.
“Oh gods, oh gods, what the fuck, what the FUCK—“
“You’ve prayed to any god before,” Elder Korvis spat derisively. “What makes you think they’ll start answering your prayers now? Expecting the universe just to bend over for you because you’re scared? Idiotic and selfish. But that’s me, isn’t it?”
Elder Korvis’ pontificating gave Younger Krovis time to collect himself. He put his hands out, desperately, trying to conciliate.
“L-Look, okay, I know what sort of… thing, this is,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “I—I’ll—I’ll change my ways or whatever, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. I’m—I’m perfectly willing to—“
“No,” Elder Korvis interrupted, shaking his head. “No. No, you’re not. I know who you are, who I am. I’m the person best equipped for it, aren’t I?” His sneer turned into an angry snarl. “And what I can tell you—is that you’re a monster.”
It was Younger Korvis’ turn to shake his head and laugh mirthlessly. “This is insane—no I am not!”
“Then,” Elder Korvis said with barely-held-back fury, “explain to me what happened to Wrena?”
Younger Korvis froze.
The story was as simple and common, as it was tragic. Korvis and his sister, Wrena, were both ambitious young mages, who came across a spell they should not have tried at their early skill level. When Korvis managed to goad and convince Wrena to help him activate it, the scroll unleashed a misdirected blast of energy. Wrena was injured beyond help—even with magic healing, she would be bedridden and unable to do any magic of her own, for the rest of her life. Korvis, who just happened to be standing behind her, managed to survive.
Korvis got to go to university, while Wrena did not. Though Wrena did say she forgave him, that it wasn’t his fault, guilt and rumor followed him to CU in mutated, uncertain form, causing him to have a hard time making new friends.
Thus, the incident haunted him, no matter how hard he tried to move past it. It would have been in Younger Korvis’ recent memory, but Elder Korvis had had an additional five years to stew over it—how she didn’t even want to try the spell, how he was the one to find it in the first place. Bringing it up opened up scabs that Younger Korvis had not started scratching yet.
He swallowed, jaw trembling.
“Th—That… wasn’t my fault, it—the spell,” he said, slowly, trying to keep himself calm even as his heart sat in his throat. “It was an accident, I really didn’t mean to… It was just an accident—“
“NO!” Elder Korvis suddenly screamed, bursting with rage. “No it was NOT! Stop fucking lying to yourself!”
He stepped forward and grabbed his younger self by the collar, hissing in his face.
“You made a careless decision because you ARE careless. You hurt her forever, because you ARE hurtful. Nothing, NOTHING in this world is a mistake—everything happens because of something. AND ALL OF THIS IS BECAUSE OF YOU!”
Elder Korvis let go and stepped back, and Younger Korvis finally broke down. Revisiting guilt that he had kept suppressed, faced with this horrifying apparition of himself, helpless without his magic… It was too much, he couldn’t handle it anymore. Sobbing, shaking his head, he collapsed, curling into a ball on the floor.
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I—I—I…”
The Elder Korvis turned away in disgust.
“Enough. Lucky for us, I have a solution. It took me a while—and finding this Mirror—but now I know just what to do about it.”
He picked up the dagger, and turned back around to face Younger Korvis. A hateful, sardonic rictus crossed Elder Korvis’ face as he turned towards himself, brandishing the knife.
“What would you do—I mean, what would you really do, if you were lucky enough to be stranded with the one you really, truly hated the most in this world? Well, I have the luck to know exactly who that is…”
Realizing who Elder Korvis was referring to, Younger Korvis’ eyes widened with horror and fixed on the blade. Quickly, he scrambled back onto his feet, backing away.
“No—no no no—wait, wait,” he stammered. “L-Look, I have—I mean, you—you have people you love, you have a future, you—“
“Had,” Elder Korvis growled, stepping forward. “You lost them. From YOUR decisions. From YOUR failings.”
Younger Korvis backed up further, his back against the solid Mirror yet again—he put his hands up in front of him.
“Wait—just, just WAIT! You know—if—if you kill me, you’ll die too, right?!”
At this, Elder Korvis paused. His expression changed from manic and angry, to blank, cold, and tired.
“Yeah, I know,” Korvis said, quietly. “That’s exactly the idea.”
The pit in Younger Korvis’ stomach then became paralyzing, as despair settled over him. He knew, deep down, that there was absolutely nothing he could do to save himself.
It was over.
With a sudden yell, Elder Korvis rushed himself and stabbed at his chest. The dagger plunged into Young Korvis’ robes, and a deep red stain quickly spread out and dripped down his body, staining the ratty carpet them. The Younger cried out with despair and terror, the Elder roared with rage, but both men screamed also in pain—wounds made on the Younger appearing on the Elder instantly, each one less and less well-healed with time.
Younger Korvis grappled with himself, clutching himself and trying to push him away, as he gasped and cried out a final desperate plea.
“PLEASE, STOP—I DON’T WANT TO—“
The older Korvis barred his teeth and continued, stabbing himself again and again with savage fury.
“DIE—NOW—“
Eventually, it was too much for both of Korvis. They collapsed onto the rug, side by side—the elder face-down, writhing—and the younger face-up, wide eyes staring at the ceiling. After another moment, Younger Korvis’ bloody, choking gasps slowed, then stopped. The copper stench of blood filled the air, and Korvis—all of him—expired on the cold floor of his room.
Faced with a contradiction in time, reality stirred, as though troubled by a bad dream. It had to act.
There was no salvation in this. Existence is dispassionate about everything, even itself. It produces answers, causes and effects—not forgiveness, not hope. Those are for minds, for hearts.
As it must, a resolution was found. Things shifted back into alignment. The hateful error became a faded memory.
Something, somewhere, took the energy produced by this shift, consumed it, then vanished.
Death and Life continued their unending parallel walk along the teeming shores of being, uninterrupted.
“Huh. That’s odd...”
Samantha stared at the odd dorm room with the slightly-open door that caught her eye as she passed: room 422.
It was strange—she knew someone had been living here—had just been here. Samantha was certain of it, she felt like she’d talked with them just last night… Yet at the same time, she couldn’t recall a single thing about whoever it might have been. The name plate where the resident would be listed was blank, and looked like it had been for some decades—extremely unusual, considering how crowded this particular part of campus was.
Overtaken by curiosity, Samantha gently creaked open the door. The room was inexplicably empty, full of mothballed furniture. The sunlight of high morning streamed in silently in through the dirty window, illuminating motes of dust as they drifted around the room like fireflies.
Her eyes were drawn to a singular object, sitting uncovered in the center of the dormitor: the Mirror.
Samantha stared at it. Strangely, even though she could see her image in the reflection, it didn’t really register in her mind as her, like it would in a normal mirror, or even most enchanted ones really. Instead, her reflection seemed to just be a faint, uncanny image, something dancing over a blank silver face staring back at her.
Beckoning.
As she stared at the image, a feeling settled over Samantha—a mixture of self-loathing, reviewing her old follies and pains… mixed with the same, unaccountable feeling that people sometimes get when looking over a high ledge, or staring into a rough and cold sea. The void, calling her.
Maybe this Mirror could help with that…
Yet slowly, it dawned on Samantha that something was wrong. The feelings, while natural, were not coming out naturally, from herself—it was as though they were being somehow drawn out by something.
Like a lure.
Suddenly, her flight-or-fight response kicked in, and Samantha recoiled in horror from the “Mirror”, whatever it really was. As fast as she could, she darted from the room and slammed the door shut behind her, blocking it with her body as though whatever danger was inside would try and break out—fortunately, it didn’t, but that didn’t lower the adrenaline pumping through Samantha. Heart racing, trembling, she slowly stepped away from the door, hugging herself, choking back terrified sobs.
Slowly, she calmed down. Steeling herself, Samantha walked away rapidly, making a beeline for the Educators’ offices, where she would get one of them to investigate and hopefully remove whatever is sitting in that room.
She just had a close brush with something terrible, after all.
Going to talk with someone about it was only the right thing to do.
THE END.
This story is one of my darker ones, and contains heavy amounts of:
-Suicide, self-harm, and self-hatred is the primary theme here,
-Intense, personal, and graphic violence,
-Discussions of personal guilt and failure,
-Existential talks about death,
-Addressing social ostracism and the damage done by rumor and gossip.
And if you’re having suicidal thoughts, please call 988 for help if you’re in the US. If you’re outside the US, you might find the number you need HERE. You’re not alone.
-Suicide, self-harm, and self-hatred is the primary theme here,
-Intense, personal, and graphic violence,
-Discussions of personal guilt and failure,
-Existential talks about death,
-Addressing social ostracism and the damage done by rumor and gossip.
And if you’re having suicidal thoughts, please call 988 for help if you’re in the US. If you’re outside the US, you might find the number you need HERE. You’re not alone.
The sun was beginning to set over the glittering and shadow-woven grounds of the Celestial University, the famed interdimensional college of magic. The first chill of autumn was in the air, as outside the arching windows of the library, leaves drifted down from dying trees. Korvis, a fifth-year senior, watched as they fell. Watching the seasons change used to always be so melancholy… but this time, Korvis simply felt numb. Other things were on his mind—bigger things. Moments like this would no longer matter after today.
It had taken more than a year of intensive research, which began running feverishly apace ever since he had found the Mirror. He couldn’t recall when or where—the artifact had some effect on the mind, his investigations revealed that—but the Mirror had rapidly become the center of his life, to an obsession. At first, it promised to be nothing more than an interesting research item, maybe a good subject for his undergraduate thesis. But as he spent more time with it, it began to do more—it promised him revenge. It promised him resolution, for the mistakes of his past... All Korvis had to do was find the correct set of spells to activate the Mirror, and all would be done. He found just the necessary spells in an old, hidden tome in the University library.
Tonight, it would be done. Korvis stood up and took the book to check it out. He would need to have it on hand for the ritual…
Along with the knife.
“Korvis, Unicorn Dormitory, room 422. Checking this one out.”
As she worked the library desk, Samantha looked up, and eyed Korvis warily. She knew of him quite well, though not personally. He was apparently a shady figure—supposedly, he’d hurt a relative or something not too long ago. People typically gave him a wide berth because of that, which made sense: someone capable of doing something like that, without good reason, that was not someone you really wanted to associate with, right?
Yet, despite herself… she felt bad for him. From the literal trials she went through in her hometown, Samantha knew what it felt like to be ostracized, especially if it really was something outside of your control, like what some said. Really, she’d always meant to say something to Korvis—ask how he was, but, well…
As though to demonstrate, she gave it a shot, just as she finished up his paperwork.
“H-Hey, uh…”
Korvis turned to her, with dark eyes and even darker expression. “Yes?”
Samantha shrunk.
“Ne—Never mind,” she stammered, losing her nerve at the older upperclassman’s glare. “I uh, I thought you’d—you’d forgotten something.” She chuckled nervously, gesturing at the scattered books and papers and trinkets on the library’s checkout desk. “People are always losing things—you know how it is…”
Kovris stared at her for what seemed like an eternity… then simply shrugged.
“Sure, whatever.”
Korvis went on his way without another word. Samantha watched him as he went down the hall. An unaccountable feeling of dread filled her as she watched him go…
Night began to fall. Walking briskly, Korvis finally made it to his dorm—room 422. Finally, he was alone, yet not for long…
Korvis approached the Mirror, set down the book, pausing for a moment to review the writing before speaking. No exotic rites or objects were needed—only the right set of whispers. Yet the ritual was complicated and very precise, and he needed to follow the instructions closely.
He did so, whispering with his eyes glued to the page—without noise, Korvis’ image slowly disappeared from the Mirror in front of him. Instead, another figure began to form in front of the mirror, fading gently into reality.
Korvis finished the chant, and looked up at the figure, now fully formed. There were no introductions needed. The appearance of the man from the door was more foreign to the man from the mirror than the other way around, but both recognized what they were looking at: themselves. The figure materializing before the Mirror was a young man, barely an adult—he still had spots on his face. This was Korvis when he first decided to apply to Celestial University, just after his eighteenth birthday, almost five years ago. Despite the lack of scruff and brighter eyes, it was recognizably the same man who watched opposite him.
It was the Younger Korvis who spoke first, staring at the Elder in disbelief.
“What in the Thirty-Seven Hells—“
“You’re done,” replied Elder Korvis.
Younger Korvis blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You’ve ruined your life.” A wretched, terrible snarl of a smile crossed the elder’s face, dry lips twisting upwards. “Look at me. I’m proof.”
Scared and confused, Younger Korvis backed away, hand reaching back for the mirror to try and leave the way he came—his throat tightened when it met only solid silver.
“Y-You’re proof of nothing,” Younger Korvis muttered, fumbling with his wand as he looked away. “Nothing, except that I must have pissed off some seriously screwed-up illusionist, because this isn’t—“
With a sudden blur of motion, Elder Korvis reached forward and snatched the younger’s wand, and snapped it in two. On the table besides, another wand—identical in every way but some slight aging—snapped in half, at exactly the same time. Younger Korvis’ eyes became saucers as he saw this, and Elder Korvis sneered.
“Does this LOOK like an illusion to you?”
It certainly did not. Illusions were incapable of directly interfering with magical foci—basic safety training was to focus on it, in order to ground yourself. Stripped of his focus—the instrument of his magical abilities—panic began to set in for the teenage Korvis, and he began to hyperventilate, staggering back, trying to get away from himself.
“Oh gods, oh gods, what the fuck, what the FUCK—“
“You’ve prayed to any god before,” Elder Korvis spat derisively. “What makes you think they’ll start answering your prayers now? Expecting the universe just to bend over for you because you’re scared? Idiotic and selfish. But that’s me, isn’t it?”
Elder Korvis’ pontificating gave Younger Krovis time to collect himself. He put his hands out, desperately, trying to conciliate.
“L-Look, okay, I know what sort of… thing, this is,” he said, trying to sound reasonable. “I—I’ll—I’ll change my ways or whatever, I’ll do whatever you tell me to do. I’m—I’m perfectly willing to—“
“No,” Elder Korvis interrupted, shaking his head. “No. No, you’re not. I know who you are, who I am. I’m the person best equipped for it, aren’t I?” His sneer turned into an angry snarl. “And what I can tell you—is that you’re a monster.”
It was Younger Korvis’ turn to shake his head and laugh mirthlessly. “This is insane—no I am not!”
“Then,” Elder Korvis said with barely-held-back fury, “explain to me what happened to Wrena?”
Younger Korvis froze.
The story was as simple and common, as it was tragic. Korvis and his sister, Wrena, were both ambitious young mages, who came across a spell they should not have tried at their early skill level. When Korvis managed to goad and convince Wrena to help him activate it, the scroll unleashed a misdirected blast of energy. Wrena was injured beyond help—even with magic healing, she would be bedridden and unable to do any magic of her own, for the rest of her life. Korvis, who just happened to be standing behind her, managed to survive.
Korvis got to go to university, while Wrena did not. Though Wrena did say she forgave him, that it wasn’t his fault, guilt and rumor followed him to CU in mutated, uncertain form, causing him to have a hard time making new friends.
Thus, the incident haunted him, no matter how hard he tried to move past it. It would have been in Younger Korvis’ recent memory, but Elder Korvis had had an additional five years to stew over it—how she didn’t even want to try the spell, how he was the one to find it in the first place. Bringing it up opened up scabs that Younger Korvis had not started scratching yet.
He swallowed, jaw trembling.
“Th—That… wasn’t my fault, it—the spell,” he said, slowly, trying to keep himself calm even as his heart sat in his throat. “It was an accident, I really didn’t mean to… It was just an accident—“
“NO!” Elder Korvis suddenly screamed, bursting with rage. “No it was NOT! Stop fucking lying to yourself!”
He stepped forward and grabbed his younger self by the collar, hissing in his face.
“You made a careless decision because you ARE careless. You hurt her forever, because you ARE hurtful. Nothing, NOTHING in this world is a mistake—everything happens because of something. AND ALL OF THIS IS BECAUSE OF YOU!”
Elder Korvis let go and stepped back, and Younger Korvis finally broke down. Revisiting guilt that he had kept suppressed, faced with this horrifying apparition of himself, helpless without his magic… It was too much, he couldn’t handle it anymore. Sobbing, shaking his head, he collapsed, curling into a ball on the floor.
“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I—I—I…”
The Elder Korvis turned away in disgust.
“Enough. Lucky for us, I have a solution. It took me a while—and finding this Mirror—but now I know just what to do about it.”
He picked up the dagger, and turned back around to face Younger Korvis. A hateful, sardonic rictus crossed Elder Korvis’ face as he turned towards himself, brandishing the knife.
“What would you do—I mean, what would you really do, if you were lucky enough to be stranded with the one you really, truly hated the most in this world? Well, I have the luck to know exactly who that is…”
Realizing who Elder Korvis was referring to, Younger Korvis’ eyes widened with horror and fixed on the blade. Quickly, he scrambled back onto his feet, backing away.
“No—no no no—wait, wait,” he stammered. “L-Look, I have—I mean, you—you have people you love, you have a future, you—“
“Had,” Elder Korvis growled, stepping forward. “You lost them. From YOUR decisions. From YOUR failings.”
Younger Korvis backed up further, his back against the solid Mirror yet again—he put his hands up in front of him.
“Wait—just, just WAIT! You know—if—if you kill me, you’ll die too, right?!”
At this, Elder Korvis paused. His expression changed from manic and angry, to blank, cold, and tired.
“Yeah, I know,” Korvis said, quietly. “That’s exactly the idea.”
The pit in Younger Korvis’ stomach then became paralyzing, as despair settled over him. He knew, deep down, that there was absolutely nothing he could do to save himself.
It was over.
With a sudden yell, Elder Korvis rushed himself and stabbed at his chest. The dagger plunged into Young Korvis’ robes, and a deep red stain quickly spread out and dripped down his body, staining the ratty carpet them. The Younger cried out with despair and terror, the Elder roared with rage, but both men screamed also in pain—wounds made on the Younger appearing on the Elder instantly, each one less and less well-healed with time.
Younger Korvis grappled with himself, clutching himself and trying to push him away, as he gasped and cried out a final desperate plea.
“PLEASE, STOP—I DON’T WANT TO—“
The older Korvis barred his teeth and continued, stabbing himself again and again with savage fury.
“DIE—NOW—“
Eventually, it was too much for both of Korvis. They collapsed onto the rug, side by side—the elder face-down, writhing—and the younger face-up, wide eyes staring at the ceiling. After another moment, Younger Korvis’ bloody, choking gasps slowed, then stopped. The copper stench of blood filled the air, and Korvis—all of him—expired on the cold floor of his room.
Faced with a contradiction in time, reality stirred, as though troubled by a bad dream. It had to act.
There was no salvation in this. Existence is dispassionate about everything, even itself. It produces answers, causes and effects—not forgiveness, not hope. Those are for minds, for hearts.
As it must, a resolution was found. Things shifted back into alignment. The hateful error became a faded memory.
Something, somewhere, took the energy produced by this shift, consumed it, then vanished.
Death and Life continued their unending parallel walk along the teeming shores of being, uninterrupted.
“Huh. That’s odd...”
Samantha stared at the odd dorm room with the slightly-open door that caught her eye as she passed: room 422.
It was strange—she knew someone had been living here—had just been here. Samantha was certain of it, she felt like she’d talked with them just last night… Yet at the same time, she couldn’t recall a single thing about whoever it might have been. The name plate where the resident would be listed was blank, and looked like it had been for some decades—extremely unusual, considering how crowded this particular part of campus was.
Overtaken by curiosity, Samantha gently creaked open the door. The room was inexplicably empty, full of mothballed furniture. The sunlight of high morning streamed in silently in through the dirty window, illuminating motes of dust as they drifted around the room like fireflies.
Her eyes were drawn to a singular object, sitting uncovered in the center of the dormitor: the Mirror.
Samantha stared at it. Strangely, even though she could see her image in the reflection, it didn’t really register in her mind as her, like it would in a normal mirror, or even most enchanted ones really. Instead, her reflection seemed to just be a faint, uncanny image, something dancing over a blank silver face staring back at her.
Beckoning.
As she stared at the image, a feeling settled over Samantha—a mixture of self-loathing, reviewing her old follies and pains… mixed with the same, unaccountable feeling that people sometimes get when looking over a high ledge, or staring into a rough and cold sea. The void, calling her.
Maybe this Mirror could help with that…
Yet slowly, it dawned on Samantha that something was wrong. The feelings, while natural, were not coming out naturally, from herself—it was as though they were being somehow drawn out by something.
Like a lure.
Suddenly, her flight-or-fight response kicked in, and Samantha recoiled in horror from the “Mirror”, whatever it really was. As fast as she could, she darted from the room and slammed the door shut behind her, blocking it with her body as though whatever danger was inside would try and break out—fortunately, it didn’t, but that didn’t lower the adrenaline pumping through Samantha. Heart racing, trembling, she slowly stepped away from the door, hugging herself, choking back terrified sobs.
Slowly, she calmed down. Steeling herself, Samantha walked away rapidly, making a beeline for the Educators’ offices, where she would get one of them to investigate and hopefully remove whatever is sitting in that room.
She just had a close brush with something terrible, after all.
Going to talk with someone about it was only the right thing to do.
THE END.
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