Other Side

The sensation was unlike anything Vivian had ever experienced. One moment, her fingers touched the mirror's cool, rippling surface; the next, she was falling—weightless, soundless, and utterly disoriented. She tried to scream, but no sound came from her lips. Colors and shadows swirled around her, shifting and merging in patterns that made her head spin.

And then, as abruptly as it began, the falling stopped.

Vivian hit the ground with a gasp, the air rushing from her lungs. The floor beneath her was cold and smooth, like polished stone. She pushed herself up slowly, her hands trembling, and looked around.

She was standing in a vast, empty space. The walls, if there were any, were lost in a swirling haze of black and silver. The floor stretched endlessly in every direction, reflecting her image in faint, distorted ripples. The air was heavy, thick with the scent of something metallic and ancient.

This isn't real, she reminded herself, her heart pounding. It's just the mirror's world. It's not real.

But it felt real. The chill in the air, the ache in her knees from the fall, the faint echo of her breath—it was all too vivid to dismiss.

"Hello?" she called out, her voice shaky.

The sound echoed back to her, distorted and wrong.

"Hello… hello… hello…"

She shivered and took a cautious step forward, her boots clicking softly against the reflective surface. The ripples beneath her feet shifted with every step, as though the floor was alive, responding to her presence.

"Vivian."

She froze. The voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it came from everywhere at once. She spun around, searching for the source, but the space around her remained empty.

"Who's there?" she demanded, her voice louder now.

No answer came, but the air grew heavier, pressing down on her like an unseen weight.

"Vivian…"

This time, the voice was closer. She turned again and gasped.

A figure stood a few feet away, shrouded in shadow. It was tall and thin, its features blurred and indistinct, as though it were made of smoke. But its eyes—two glowing orbs of silver light—were locked onto hers.

"What do you want?" she asked, her voice trembling.

The figure tilted its head, as if studying her. When it spoke, its voice was layered, a thousand whispers overlapping into a single, chilling tone. "What do you want, Vivian?"

She took a step back, her pulse racing. "I didn't come here to make a deal. I came to destroy you."

The figure laughed, a sound that echoed endlessly in the vast space. "Destroy me? Is that what you think?" It stepped closer, its form shifting with every movement. "You cannot destroy what you do not understand."

Vivian's hands clenched into fists. "Then help me understand."

The figure stopped, its glowing eyes narrowing. "To understand, you must see. But seeing comes with a price."

Vivian's heart sank. "What kind of price?"

The figure extended a hand, long and skeletal, toward her. "A memory. A piece of yourself. Show me the moment you wish you could forget, and I will show you the truth."

She hesitated, her mind racing. She had spent years burying her pain, locking it away where it couldn't hurt her. Now this… thing was asking her to bring it to the surface, to relive it.

"Don't do it," a voice whispered in her mind—Sebastian's voice. "It's not real. Don't let it take anything from you."

But how could she find the mirror's heart if she didn't play its game?

"I don't have time for this," she snapped. "If you know the truth, just tell me."

The figure chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "It does not work that way. You entered my world, Vivian. Here, I make the rules. If you want the answers you seek, you will give me what I ask for."

She glared at the figure, anger flaring in her chest. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Take it."

The figure's glowing eyes brightened, and the air around her seemed to ripple. "Show me," it commanded.

Vivian closed her eyes, her mind reaching back to the memory she had fought so hard to forget.

She was eight years old, standing in the middle of a dark forest. The trees loomed overhead, their twisted branches blotting out the moonlight. She was holding her brother's hand, her small fingers gripping his tightly.

"Don't let go," she whispered, her voice trembling.

"I won't," he promised, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes.

They had been playing hide-and-seek near their family's cabin when the ground had opened beneath them, revealing an old, crumbling tunnel. They had fallen inside, their laughter turning to screams.

"Do you think they'll find us?" she asked, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Her brother hesitated, then shook his head. "We'll find our own way out. Together."

But they never did.

The last thing she remembered was the sound of his voice, calling her name as the darkness swallowed him whole. She had been found hours later, unconscious and alone. Her brother was never seen again.

Vivian opened her eyes, tears streaming down her face. The figure was closer now, its glowing eyes boring into hers.

"A tragic loss," it murmured. "A wound that never healed. Tell me, Vivian—if you could go back, would you save him? Would you trade your life for his?"

She swallowed hard, her chest tightening. "What kind of question is that?"

The figure smiled, its teeth gleaming like shards of glass. "A question you already know the answer to."

The world around her began to shift, the reflective floor giving way to jagged stone. The haze lifted, revealing a massive, ornate door at the far end of the space.

"There," the figure said, its voice echoing in her mind. "Beyond that door lies the mirror's heart. But be warned, Vivian—the closer you get, the more it will take from you."

She wiped her tears away, her resolve hardening. "I don't care. I'm ending this."

The figure stepped aside, its form dissolving into smoke. "Then proceed. But remember—everything comes with a price."

Vivian squared her shoulders and began walking toward the door. The whispers grew louder with every step, the air growing colder. She could feel the mirror's pull, stronger now, as if it were reaching for her.

As she reached the door, she paused, her hand hovering over the handle. The whispers became a roar, a cacophony of voices pleading, mocking, and tempting her.

"Turn back."

"You're not strong enough."

"You'll never escape."

She closed her eyes, blocking out the noise.

And then, with a deep breath, she pushed the door open.

To be continued...