The Life-and-Death Game Within the Mirror

Eric's heart still thundered wildly as she reached out to touch the glass; her reflection mirrored the gesture, lifting its hand in response. 

Through the intervening surface, she surprisingly felt the tactile sensation of palms nearly meeting. When she withdrew her hand, the mirrored self smiled and extended its hand once more. 

Suddenly, a finger protruded halfway out from the mirror, halting at its limit. The reflected visage twisted into a sinister, malevolent scowl as it pressed laboriously outward, yet could advance no further. 

The face wore an expression of vindictive hatred, one so chillingly familiar it sent a shiver down Eric's spine. Accompanied by the half-extended hand, she harbored no doubt: if she did not hasten her escape from the maze, the specter within the glass would emerge. 

Fearful, Eric dared not close her eyes again, lest she unwittingly touch another phantom limb while feeling her way forward. 

Surrounded on all sides by mirrors and ghostly apparitions, she spun once more, dizziness overcoming her eyes which watered uncontrollably, yet still, no exit revealed itself. 

Worse still, more ethereal hands and feet extended partially from the glass. Standing before one peculiar mirror—its construction mysterious—she beheld a full row of diminishing figures within; each a perfect replication of herself. 

She watched, wide-eyed, as the tiny reflections began to swell, pressing against the mirror as if striving to break free, gradually matching her own stature. The glass stretched under their pressure, as though they were emerging from its depths. 

"This is truly cursed…" she murmured. 

Unable to bear the unsettling spectacle, Eric longed to shatter the mirror outright. 

Yet such a reckless act risked releasing these shadows, unleashing them upon the world. 

She sprinted through the labyrinth; the shadows on the walls clambered after her with eager haste. 

"Patrick! Patrick!" she called again, desperately seeking the key to her escape. 

Only her footsteps, ragged breaths, and voice echoed within the maze. 

Yet Eric trusted Patrick was nearby. Where, then, was he hiding? 

Suddenly, a soft thud sounded behind her. Turning swiftly, she beheld a shadow identical to herself surge forth from the glass, collapsing abruptly upon the floor. Breath caught, speech failed her as she witnessed this surreal vision. 

Pausing, she observed the specter rising, mouth opening in silent roar. Its advance was menacingly zombie-like. 

At this juncture, Eric found herself unfazed. 

The apparition charged from five meters away; she squared her stance, fists clenched tightly for defense. 

Three meters, two meters, one meter… 

Her doppelg?nger raised its fist to strike. Eric noted with interest that the shadow's posture and fighting style were identical to her own customary maneuvers—except it wielded the left hand. 

How could a specter materialized from the mirror favor the left hand? 

Pondering this anomaly, Eric awaited the assault. Grasping the attacker's arm, she delivered a swift kick— 

Crash! 

The phantom shattered into shards like glass. 

Astounded, Eric realized the ease of its defeat. 

Two more specters emerged from the wall; with a decisive kick each, Eric quickly amassed three piles of shimmering fragments beneath her feet. 

This was too peculiar. 

If so easily vanquished, even if every specter emerged from the mirrored walls, she could dispatch them effortlessly. 

And then? Would that guarantee escape from the Mirror Maze? 

As more phantasms materialized, Eric's mind drifted, suspicion gnawing at her—things could not be so straightforward. 

Once again, she fractured several advancing shadows, stepping upon the scattered glass. Beneath the shards, she discerned innumerable miniatures of herself. 

By prior reasoning, this must be another illusion; she needed to relinquish it to return to the dungeon's true reality. 

Her doubts about defeating all shadows to restore reality deepened—it was simply impossible. 

Watching the silent, identical specters attack, she refused to accept that these reflections were truly herself. 

Though their movements mirrored her own, their directions were inverted. Boldly, she theorized: was she now trapped within the mirror itself? 

Yet she herself had no confusion of left and right— 

Hesitating, she faced an incoming specter and instinctively commanded, "Right foot, kick!" 

Before the word completed, it was her left foot that swung out. 

The revelation chilled her to the bone; attempting again, thinking "left," her body responded "right." No correction was possible. Eric was certain: she inhabited the mirrored realm. 

If trapped inside the reflection, her world was reversed; not traveling the labyrinth's path, but wandering within the mirror itself. How farther she ventured toward the maze's exit was truly deeper entrapment within the glass. 

Likewise, the specters were not emerging from the mirror—they were returning into it. 

Thus, their point of origin was the true exit! 

A daring notion, yet Eric resolved it was her best hope.

She swiftly located a nearby mirror and seized one phantom figure that had partially emerged, yanking it free and hurling it backward into a cluster of specters. Glass shards scattered across the floor. 

Boldly, she charged toward the very fissure from which the spirit had escaped; to her astonishment, no solid glass obstructed her passage—she slipped through effortlessly. 

Inside, the space was densely packed with yet-unborn apparitions poised to assail her. Eric had no time to engage them all, simply brushing away the nearest assailants. Behind her, the mirrors continually birthed new specters, compelling her to repeat her tactic—colliding into yet another pane of glass. 

Success again! 

With confidence in her path, Eric quickened her pace, her awareness sharpening to the true peril within the Mirror Maze. 

Layer upon layer, endless ghosts reflected and multiplied; yet these very reflections concealed the true exit. Should the phantoms from the final mirror fully infiltrate the penultimate layer, Eric would be unable to harness their presence to traverse the glass and find the final escape—she would be trapped forever. 

Having unraveled this truth, she sped onward, her eyes keen and hands nimble as she intercepted specters poised to breach the surface, occupying their still-open egress channels. 

Two layers, three layers... ten... sixteen... 

The deeper she ventured, the scarcer the phantoms grew. 

At the seventeenth layer, Eric scoured hastily; sparse specters slipped in from the previous level, but by her arrival, the passage sealed shut. 

She had discovered the secret too late—her initial time squandered fending off attacking phantoms. 

Standing before the mirror, no fragment of her reflection remained. 

This signified all shadows had escaped from this layer. She struck the glass fiercely, but no force, not even tools pilfered from the supermarket, could mar its surface. 

Phantoms descending from the eighteenth to the seventeenth layer continued their assault. Eric intended to vent frustration with a fierce punch, yet her fist veered wildly mid-swing as a specter latched onto her arm, crimson blood flowing. 

Pain and a chilling aura seeped through flesh and bone to her very soul, compelling a shudder. 

Still, she refused to retaliate. 

Only one specter remained on the seventeenth layer. 

She switched tactics, grasping the aggressor and slamming it forcefully against the mirror. 

Though fists and kicks easily shattered these phantoms, striking the glass merely echoed loudly without fragmenting the ghost; instead, the mirror itself sustained damage. 

"There's always a way!" Eric exulted, relieved that at least one phantom lingered—otherwise, she would have faced utter despair. 

Repeated blows from the phantom's head chipped a fissure in the glass. 

When its head shattered, it switched to hands; when those broke, it used feet. Eric wielded the specter as a tool, exploiting it to her fullest. 

At last, when the phantom crumbled completely, the crack in the wall was wide enough for her to slip through. Eric surged forward eagerly. Suddenly, brilliant spirals of white light filled her vision; she closed her eyes. 

Voices drifted anew to her ears. 

"The Mirror Maze was no fun—I got so dizzy." 

"Oh, I thought my reflection moved oddly! I was perfectly still!" 

"Ha! It's all illusions—you must've been imagining things." 

Opening her eyes, Eric found herself walking behind several students. 

Patrick turned and smiled at her. "Come on, Teacher White, we're almost at the exit." 

"...Alright," she replied, clutching the arm freshly bitten by the phantom; though untouched by visible wounds, the lingering chill persisted. She resolved to forego the supernatural healing pack for now, awaiting the next challenge. 

Exiting the maze, Patrick stamped her card, beaming, "Teacher White, you're amazing. I wish I could be as skilled as you." 

At that moment, Eric glimpsed fissures spreading across his face, resembling shattered glass hastily pieced together. 

The transformation was fleeting; Patrick returned the card and rejoined his classmates with a cheerful grin. 

The next attraction was the giant water slide proposed by Raymond. 

Were this not a haunted dungeon, Eric might have enjoyed the slide herself. 

Rising several stories, the slide's slope neared ninety degrees, appearing dangerously precipitous. She climbed to the summit, where pairs were assigned to small transport carts. Eric shared a ride with Raymond. The cart boasted safety features, including a seatbelt, yet gazing down the near-vertical, guardrail-less chute beneath, she understood this trial rivaled the perils of previous "drop tower" and roller coaster adventures. 

"Descending!" a staff member called out as their cart began its plunge. 

The slide consisted of three sections: tranquil buffers at front and rear, the central segment the longest and steepest. 

The cart glided smoothly over the buffer zones, approaching the main slide. Raymond extended a hand to greet the impending splash. 

"Ah!" 

At water's impact, a gust of wind mixed with spray doused Eric, drenching her thoroughly and chilling her to the bone. Mist clouded her vision; she reached to wipe her eyes, yet the blur persisted. Raymond's excited shouts rang out unceasingly. 

The cart hurtled downward like a comet, then suddenly, without warning, it flew off the slide. 

"Ahhhhh!" 

Eric's body flipped upside down. 

*Splash!* 

The cart plunged into the water.