Chapter 7: The Woman in the Glass

Arc I – The Possession Begins

Chapter 7: The Woman in the Glass

For the first time since waking in this world, Mira was afraid of mirrors.

Every reflective surface in the manor—polished vases, windows, even silver spoons—seemed to glimmer with something more than light. Sometimes, if she looked too long, she caught sight of someone else’s eyes staring back.

Seraphina’s eyes.

Patient. Sad. Knowing.

Mira stopped brushing her hair entirely, afraid of catching a glimpse of the other woman behind her own reflection. Adrian noticed, of course—he noticed everything.

At breakfast, he said, “You haven’t looked in a mirror for three days.”

She poked her toast nervously. “Oh, have I? Maybe I’m just exploring a minimalist lifestyle.”

“Mira.”

She sighed. “Fine. I keep seeing her, okay? Every time I look at my reflection, she’s there—watching me like a ghost with great cheekbones.”

He frowned. “Has she said anything?”

“Not since the dream. But I can feel her. Like she’s waiting.”

Adrian’s expression tightened. “If she’s regaining strength, the curse is nearing its next stage.”

“Next stage?” she echoed. “What is this, a boss-level progression?”

He gave a weary half-smile. “Something like that.”

---

By noon, the manor had turned strangely cold. Servants whispered about “phantom drafts,” doors that closed on their own, candles that flickered out the moment anyone mentioned Seraphina’s name.

Mira walked down the east corridor, wrapped in a shawl, muttering, “Okay, no more horror movie clichés, please.”

Her reflection in a nearby window smirked back.

She froze. “Oh no. No, no, no.”

The reflection moved—without her. It leaned forward, lips forming soundless words. Then, faintly, the voice slipped into her head like silk through glass:

> “He’s starting to love you. Don’t waste what I built.”

Mira’s blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”

> “The promise. The bond. You think it’s fate, but it’s a chain.”

The reflection smiled sweetly.

> “I made it for him. For us. But you— you’re just the echo.”

“Stop it!” Mira snapped, slapping the glass.

Adrian appeared almost instantly, sword half-drawn. “Mira!”

She pointed at the window. “She—she spoke again!”

He turned—but there was nothing now. Only her reflection, pale and shaking.

“Mira,” he said gently, sheathing his blade. “Look at me.”

She did—and saw the faint shimmer of light between them. The bond pulsed once, like a heartbeat. She could feel his concern in her chest, echoing through her own pulse.

“Every time you panic,” he said softly, “the curse reacts.”

“So now my anxiety is magical. Perfect.”

He almost smiled. “You have a gift for understatement.”

---

Later that evening, they searched the chapel again, hoping for another clue. The shattered mirror still lay in pieces across the floor, glinting like frozen tears.

Adrian crouched, brushing his fingers across one shard. It flared briefly with blue light.

“Careful!” Mira warned.

He didn’t move. “It’s reacting to your presence.”

“Yeah, because apparently I’m a walking Wi-Fi signal for curses!”

The shard flickered again—this time showing an image. Seraphina, kneeling before the same mirror, whispering:

> “If he won’t love me, he will hear me. Forever.”

Mira’s stomach dropped. “She did this on purpose.”

Adrian’s hand trembled. “That was her last spell.”

“So… what, she tethered her voice to her bloodline? To you?”

“Perhaps,” he said quietly. “And when you appeared—when you entered her body—the connection reignited.”

Mira exhaled shakily. “Great. So I’m not only haunted, I’m also the reincarnation of a desperate love confession.”

His gaze met hers, dark and unreadable. “You are not her.”

“Tell that to the glassware.”

---

That night, the manor refused to sleep. Windows rattled, and whispers curled through the halls like restless wind.

Mira lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her mind churned.

She wanted him to love her so badly she cursed him into eternity. How am I supposed to fix that?

Then another, softer thought: And what if I want him to love me, too?

Her stomach knotted. “Nope. Nope. Not thinking that.”

The door creaked.

Adrian stood in the doorway, half-dressed, a candle in one hand. “You’re awake.”

She squinted. “Are you sleep-haunting me?”

He smiled faintly. “You were thinking too loudly again.”

“Sorry. My brain doesn’t have a mute button.”

He stepped closer. “You shouldn’t be alone tonight. The curse is… volatile.”

Mira hesitated, then nodded. “Fine. But if anything explodes, I’m blaming your lineage.”

“Understood.”

He sat in the chair near her bed, candlelight painting gold across his features. They stayed like that for a long while—silent, except for the storm outside and the faint rhythm of their breathing syncing without meaning to.

Then Mira whispered, “Adrian?”

“Yes?”

“If I disappear… promise you’ll find me.”

His gaze softened. “Always.”

Something in the air shifted—warm, electric. The bond flared, light shimmering faintly between them.

“Mira,” he said, voice low, “if you keep making me promises, I won’t be able to keep my distance.”

Her heartbeat stuttered. “Then don’t.”

He exhaled sharply, looking away. “You don’t understand. The more I want to be near you, the farther the curse will push me.”

“How far?” she asked.

He looked up, eyes haunted. “Far enough to forget your voice.”

---

Hours later, Mira woke again—but Adrian was gone. The chair sat empty, candle snuffed.

She stumbled to her mirror, pulse racing—and found Seraphina waiting, smiling softly.

> “He can’t stay near you now,” Seraphina said. “The curse is adjusting.”

“What did you do?”

> “Nothing you haven’t already done yourself.”

“Stop talking in riddles!”

Seraphina’s reflection tilted her head.

> “He’s hearing your heart instead of your thoughts now. That’s the final phase before one of us fades.”

Mira’s breath caught. “One of us?”

> “You or me. The vessel can’t hold both.”

The reflection’s expression softened almost kindly.

> “You like him, don’t you? That’s why the bond grows. You’re replacing me.”

Mira whispered, “I didn’t mean to.”

> “Neither did I.”

Then, with a sound like cracking glass, Seraphina’s reflection fractured—spider-webbing across the mirror surface. Mira gasped and stepped back.

From somewhere in the corridor, she heard Adrian’s voice—distant, pained.

“Mira—stay away from the mirrors!”

She ran to the door, heart hammering. “Adrian!”

But his voice was already fading, echoing through her mind like the last note of a song.

> Don’t… let her… in…

And then—silence.

---

End of Chapter 7

Next: Chapter 8 – “The Shattered Bond”

Mira must face Seraphina’s growing takeover, Adrian disappears under the curse’s pull, and the emotional connection between them begins to shift from mere voice to something far more dangerous.