Story 1061: Graveglass Mirror

The mirror was buried deep beneath the chapel ruins of Black Hollow, wrapped in chains soaked with salt and ash, sealed in a coffin lined with human teeth.

The inscription on the lid was barely legible through the rot:

“DO NOT POLISH. DO NOT PEER. DO NOT SPEAK ITS REFLECTION.”

But we did.

Because we thought it might show us a way out.

The survivors had dwindled to five. Starving. Desperate. Haunted by shadows that seemed to know their names.

An eldritch fog had descended days ago, turning day to dusk and twisting the forest around them into a tangle of pulsing roots and whispering trees. The only path left led them into the chapel’s crypts—where time hung still and breath came cold.

That’s where they found the Graveglass.

At first glance, it was nothing more than a shattered mirror.

A black-silver relic, its pieces reformed into a mosaic of jagged, unnatural angles that never quite made a full reflection. But when Lana touched it—just a single fingertip—it moved.