The Hollow Eyes
The firelight flickered, casting long shadows across Eli's face, but it wasn't the glow that made Nori's blood run cold—it was his eyes.
They were wrong.
Too dark. Too still.
As if something behind them was watching through him.
The locket pulsed in his hand, a sickly light that throbbed in time with the whispers now circling the camp like invisible snakes. No one else seemed to hear them. The laughter of the other kids faded into a strange, muffled hum, like sound drowning underwater.
Max stepped in front of Nori, placing himself between her and Eli. "Where did you get that?" he demanded, his voice shaking.
Eli tilted his head, slow and puppet-like. "She gave it to me. Said I could finish what you couldn't."
The air turned cold—unnaturally cold. The trees stopped swaying. The fire dimmed, like it was being smothered.
And then, behind Eli, they saw it.
The mirror.
Standing tall among the trees. Freestanding. Cracked down the center.
But it hadn't been there before.
Nori felt her feet move without her will, drawn forward by the same magnetic dread that had haunted her dreams. Max grabbed her arm, but she didn't stop.
Eli turned and walked toward the mirror, each step unnervingly calm, the locket still glowing in his palm. As he neared the glass, the shadows inside it began to move—dozens of figures shifting beneath the surface, writhing, pressing against the other side as if begging to be let out.
"Do you see them?" Eli said, smiling now. "They remember you. They remember everything."
Nori was trembling. "They're not supposed to be here. We ended this."
"No," Eli whispered. "You only fed it. The house was just its mouth. This…" He motioned to the mirror. "This is its heart."
The mirror began to crack further, the sound like ice splitting underfoot. One of the shadows slammed against the glass from inside, and this time, it left a handprint. Small. Childlike. Burning white.
Jess's voice echoed in Nori's head—"We don't belong here."
Max pulled Nori back, but Eli reached out with the locket—and the mirror responded, glowing with that same unnatural light.
Then, a face emerged.
A girl's face.
Wet hair. Hollow eyes.
Mary.
She opened her mouth, and the whispers became a scream—long, drawn-out, and not human.
The fire exploded behind them, and the camp dissolved into chaos. Kids screamed, running in every direction, but the woods twisted around them like a maze, paths turning to shadows.
Nori and Max turned to flee, but the mirror pulsed, once—twice—and then everything went black.