Chapter 7: Whispers in the Mirror

The moment Kaito and Sora stepped out of the chamber, the heavy stone door slammed shut behind them, sealing away the whispering books — or so they thought.

But the whispering didn't stop.

It followed them.

The corridors of the old library twisted in unnatural ways now, the once familiar walls stretching taller, the stone turning black and slick like wet skin.

The torches flickered and died, plunging them into almost complete darkness.

"Kaito..." Sora whispered, clutching his arm tightly.

"Something's wrong. I can hear... voices."

Kaito heard them too — low, rasping murmurs in a language he didn't understand, but somehow felt inside his skull, like a cold needle pressing against his thoughts.

They rounded a corner and found themselves standing before a massive mirror, cracked and covered in thick dust.

It hadn't been there before.

At first, their reflections looked normal — scared, tired.

But then the reflections smiled.

Not their real smiles — cruel, twisted versions, baring too many teeth.

Sora gasped and stepped back. Her reflection stayed behind — still smiling.

Kaito felt a pull in his chest, like invisible hands dragging him toward the mirror.

The book in his bag grew heavy, burning against his back.

The glass shimmered, and words appeared, scratched from the inside:

"You are not who you think you are."

Sora reached out to grab him, but her fingers passed through him — he was already halfway into the glass.

Inside, it was not a reflection of the library.

It was a cold, barren wasteland of broken bodies and shattered dreams, where the sun was just a black hole in the sky.

At the center of this twisted world stood a massive throne made of bones.

And sitting on it...

Was himself.

Or at least something that looked like him — older, crueler, his eyes black pits of endless hunger.

"You can't save them," the reflection whispered. "You're the reason they suffer."

Kaito wrenched himself back at the last second, tumbling onto the cold stone floor, gasping.

The mirror cracked violently — a spiderweb of fractures — but didn't break.

Behind them, a faint scratching noise began.

From the mirror, dozens of hands started to emerge, pale and clawed, reaching toward them.

"RUN!" Kaito yelled.

They sprinted down the hall, the sound of broken glass and shrieking voices following close behind.

The corridors bent and shifted, making every step harder.

It was as if the library itself was alive — and angry.

They only stopped when they found an old, rotten wooden door and slammed it shut behind them, barricading it with anything they could find.

Sora collapsed onto the floor, sobbing softly.

Kaito leaned against the wall, breathing hard, feeling the cold weight of the cursed book against his spine.

The whispers were quieter now, but not gone.

And worse, every time he closed his eyes, he saw the throne of bones... and himself sitting on it.

The words burned into his mind:

"You are not the hero."