The Reflection's Whisper

Chapter 2:

The Reflection's Whisper

Lila paced the narrow aisle, her fingers still tingling from where they had touched the mirror. Her heart thudded in her chest, her breath shallow. She had to be imagining things—stress, exhaustion, maybe even the storm outside playing tricks on her mind. And yet, the memory of the man's emerald gaze burned behind her eyes, vivid and unwavering.

She turned back to the mirror. It stood silently against the shelf, its polished surface reflecting nothing but her own wary form. A normal mirror. Just glass and wood.

But she didn't believe that. Not anymore.

Lila swallowed hard, pressing her palm to her forehead as if that would push away the creeping sensation of unease curling around her ribs. Her grandmother's words echoed again—"He waits, always watching."

She hesitated, then did what any reasonable person would do when faced with a possibly haunted object—she grabbed an old cloth from the counter and threw it over the mirror. The fabric settled over the carved frame, its edges fluttering slightly as if something inside the glass protested the sudden darkness.

"There," she muttered. "Out of sight, out of mind."

The moment she turned her back, the whisper came.

Soft. Almost imperceptible. A breath of sound that slipped between the shelves and curled around her like an exhale against her ear.

"Lila."

She froze.

The lamp flickered.

The whisper came again, clearer this time, and unmistakably male.

"Lila, please."

She spun around, her pulse leaping into her throat. The mirror remained covered, unmoving. But the air in the shop felt different—charged, expectant. The storm outside battered the windows harder now, the wind moaning like a distant lament.

Lila forced herself to take a step forward. Then another. Her hands clenched at her sides, her nails pressing into her palms as if pain could tether her to reality.

"Who's there?" she asked, her voice stronger than she felt.

Silence.

Then—tap, tap, tap.

Not from the rain. Not from the windows.

From behind the mirror.

Lila's stomach dropped.

She stared at the covered glass, her pulse hammering in her ears. Logic told her to walk away, to lock up the shop, to forget this ever happened. But the tugging in her chest—the same one she had felt the moment she touched the mirror—urged her forward.

This wasn't just a dream. This wasn't her imagination.

Something was in there.

Swallowing her fear, Lila reached out and grasped the cloth. She hesitated only a second before yanking it away.

The reflection that met her wasn't hers.

The man stood in the mirror, closer than before, his sharp features illuminated by the flickering lamplight. Dark hair curled slightly over his forehead, his emerald eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her breath hitch. His lips parted, as if he had been waiting for her to remove the cover.

"Who are you?" Lila whispered.

The man lifted his hand, pressing it against the glass. His fingers looked real, tangible, as if he might step through the barrier at any moment.

"Help me."

Lila's throat tightened.

Her mind screamed to step away, to ignore the impossible. But her heart—the reckless, curious part of her—urged her to stay. To listen.

She took a steadying breath.

"Help you how?"

The man's expression darkened, sorrow flickering behind his eyes. He glanced over his shoulder at something Lila couldn't see, his body tense with an urgency that sent a chill through her veins.

Then, before she could say another word, the mirror's surface rippled.

Lila gasped, stumbling back. The reflection wavered like disturbed water, distorting the man's image before snapping back into place.

For a moment, she thought he might disappear. But instead, he looked at her with something new in his gaze—relief.

"You can hear me," he said, voice laced with something close to wonder.

Lila's heart pounded.

"That means there's still time."

Time for what?

She opened her mouth to ask, but the storm outside gave a deafening roar, rattling the shop's windows. The lights flickered wildly, plunging the room into momentary darkness.

And when they came back—

The mirror was empty.

The man was gone.

But the whisper of his final words lingered in the air, curling around her like a promise.

"Find me, before they do."