Echoes behind the mirror

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Aurora found herself in an unfamiliar yet strangely familiar mansion.

Heavy rain poured outside, the wind rattled the windows, and thunder rumbled in the distance. She stood in a long, dark corridor lined with old paintings, surrounded by a coldness that seemed to seep into her bones.

She had never been here before.

At least, she didn't think she had.

Yet something about the mansion stirred a strange feeling inside her. The walls, the paintings, even the faint scent of old wood seemed connected to a memory she couldn't quite reach.

Aurora took a cautious step forward, searching for a way out.

The corridor stretched ahead of her, disappearing into the darkness.

There was no one in sight. Only the sound of rain and the occasional crack of thunder accompanied her footsteps.

She turned right and continued down the corridor until she came across a series of paintings that looked centuries old. One caught her attention.

It showed a woman standing beside a large window. The painting had faded with age, making the woman's features difficult to distinguish.

Aurora reached out and gently brushed her fingertips against the frame.

"This looks so old," she murmured.

A sudden chill swept through her.

She quickly withdrew her hand and glanced over her shoulder.

Nothing.

Swallowing her uneasiness, she continued walking.

A few steps later, she came across an antique mirror. Its heavy frame was decorated with intricate patterns, and its surface reflected the dim light from the corridor.

Something about it made her uncomfortable.

Still, curiosity drew her closer.

Aurora stood before the mirror and stared at her reflection.

For a moment, she saw someone else.

A girl stood where her reflection should have been, wearing an old-fashioned dress. Her face was unmistakable.

She looked exactly like Aurora.

Aurora's eyes widened. She leaned closer, trying to understand what she was seeing.

The girl didn't move.

She simply stared back at Aurora with an expression that was impossible to read.

Aurora lifted a trembling hand.

The girl remained perfectly still.

Then, in the blink of an eye, the image disappeared.

Aurora was staring at her own reflection again.

She stumbled backward, her heart pounding.

"What was that?" she whispered.

Unable to resist the urge to check, she slowly reached towards the mirror and placed her palm against its surface.

It was freezing.

Much colder than it should have been.

Then she heard a whisper.

"Celeste."

Aurora froze.

The voice had come from somewhere across the corridor.

"Hello?" she called.

Silence answered her.

She hesitated before following the direction of the whisper. At the far end of the corridor, a boy stood waiting.

His dark hair fell across his forehead, and his unusually pale skin stood out against the shadows. His intense blue eyes were fixed on her, and his old-fashioned clothing made him look as though he belonged to another time.

Alaric.

Aurora didn't know his name, yet the sight of him stirred the same unsettling familiarity she had felt throughout the mansion.

He looked at her as though he had been waiting for her for a very long time.

There was no surprise in his expression. No curiosity.

Only devastation.

Alaric began walking towards her, his steps slow and deliberate.

"You came back," he said quietly.

Aurora stared at him, confused.

"Sir, you're mistaken," she replied. "I think I'm lost."

He didn't seem to hear her.

"Celeste."

"I'm not Celeste," Aurora insisted. "My name isn't Celeste."

Alaric continued studying her face, as though searching for something that wasn't there.

For a brief moment, his expression softened.

Then the warmth vanished.

He reached towards her but stopped before his fingers could touch her.

Something changed in his eyes.

"You're not her," he murmured.

The atmosphere shifted.

The mansion seemed to grow darker, and the wind outside howled against the windows. One by one, the candles lining the corridor went out.

Aurora looked around in alarm.

The far end of the corridor had disappeared into shadow.

Then she heard footsteps behind her.

Slow.

Measured.

Getting closer.

She spun around.

There was no one there.

When she turned back, Alaric's expression had changed. His body had stiffened, and his gaze was fixed on the darkness behind her.

"You need to leave. Now."

Aurora frowned.

"Why? What's happening?"

He didn't answer.

Instead, he took a step towards her, his expression growing more urgent.

"Leave."

Aurora remained where she was. She wanted answers. She wanted to know who Celeste was, why the girl in the mirror looked exactly like her, and why this mansion felt as though it held a piece of her forgotten past.

Most of all, she wanted to understand why Alaric looked at her as if losing her a second time would destroy him.

But before she could ask another question, he spoke again.

"They mustn't find you."

Aurora jolted awake.

She sat upright in bed, breathing heavily, her heart racing as she struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

Her bedroom.

Morning light filtered through the curtains.

Her bed, her clothes, the familiar furniture—everything was exactly where it belonged.

She was home.

For a moment, she remained still, trying to calm herself.

It had been a nightmare.

It had to be.

Then she noticed something in her hand.

Aurora looked down.

An old pendant rested in her palm.

She stared at it, bewildered. She couldn't remember picking it up, let alone bringing it into her bedroom.

The pendant was small and silver, with a tiny engraved letter C.

She turned it over, examining its worn surface.

"What is this?"

No answer came, of course.

After a few more seconds, she shook her head and placed the pendant somewhere safe.

"It's just a nightmare," she told herself.

She needed to get ready for school. Whatever the dream meant, she couldn't afford to spend the entire morning thinking about it.

Aurora got dressed in a simple black gown, let her hair fall around her shoulders, and added a little makeup and a few accessories.

Yet as she prepared for the day, fragments of the dream kept returning.

The mansion.

The mirror.

The girl.

And the boy who had called her Celeste.

She pushed the thoughts aside and left her room.

At school, the hallways were already crowded with students. Her best friend, Elara, walked beside her, excitedly talking about the boy she had a crush on.

Aurora listened, occasionally smiling at Elara's enthusiasm.

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden commotion farther down the hallway. Students were shouting, giggling, and gathering in a crowd.

Aurora glanced towards them.

Whatever was happening, she had no interest in finding out. She adjusted her bag and headed towards class with Elara.

Inside the classroom, Aurora settled into her seat and began making notes while they waited for their teacher.

A few minutes later, Mr. Walker entered.

"Good morning, class."

"Good morning, sir," the students answered.

"I'd like you all to welcome a new student today."

Aurora remained focused on her notebook.

"This is Alaric Devereux."

Elara nudged Aurora's arm.

"Look up."

Aurora sighed and raised her head.

Then she saw him.

Her pen stopped moving.

It was the boy from her dream.

For a moment, she could only stare.

"It's him," she whispered.

Elara turned towards her.

"What did you say?"

"Nothing," Aurora replied quickly, lowering her gaze.

At the front of the classroom, Alaric had gone completely still.

His eyes were fixed on Aurora.

The moment their gazes met, something shifted in his expression. His composure faltered, and for a brief second, he looked as though he had seen a ghost.

Aurora noticed.

Why was he staring at her like that?

She studied his face, searching for something familiar, but all she could grasp was the same inexplicable feeling from the dream.

Have I met him before?

Alaric looked away.

Then, almost immediately, his gaze returned to her.

Aurora's attention dropped to the pendant around his neck.

A small silver pendant.

Her stomach tightened.

It looked exactly like the one she had found in her hand that morning.

She blinked and looked again, but Alaric had already turned towards the teacher.

"Alaric, you can take the empty seat two rows behind Aurora," Mr. Walker instructed.

Alaric nodded and walked towards the seat without saying a word.

Aurora forced herself to look back at her notes.

She tried to concentrate on the lesson, but the questions crowding her mind refused to disappear.

Why was he in her dream?

Why had he called her Celeste?

And why did he have a pendant that looked exactly like hers?

By the time the lesson ended, Aurora still had no answers.

As students began packing their bags, Alaric turned towards the boy sitting beside him.

"What's her name?" he asked quietly.

The boy followed his gaze towards Aurora.

"Aurora Sinclair."

Alaric fell silent.

For several seconds, he didn't move. His eyes remained fixed on her as though the name itself had confirmed something he had desperately hoped wasn't true.

Then he spoke, barely above a whisper.

"That's impossible."