The haunted palace

Chapter 4 : the mirror room

The footprints led them to a narrow passage behind the grand staircase. The walls were close, breathing with a strange warmth, like the palace itself had a pulse. Aria could hear faint whispers echoing through the corridor—snatches of voices calling names, laughing, weeping.

At the end of the passage stood a door of blackened glass, its surface rippling faintly like water. No handle. No lock. Just a carved inscription above it:

“Look upon thyself and despair.”

Dr. Fen ran his hand along the edge. “The craftsmanship… it’s not from this era. This door wasn’t part of the original palace.”

Before anyone could stop her, the noblewoman stepped forward. “If it hides answers, I’ll find them.”

The glass shuddered and parted like smoke. One by one, they entered the chamber beyond—and gasped.

The room was vast, circular, and entirely made of mirrors. The ceiling rose into darkness, and the floor reflected like a still lake. When they stepped inside, their reflections multiplied endlessly, each one moving a heartbeat too late.

Garrick scowled. “I don’t like this.”

As they walked deeper, the mirrors began to shimmer. Each reflection twisted, changing subtly—faces aging, eyes darkening, mouths whispering words no one could hear.

Then the whispering stopped.

In the center of the room stood a single mirror, taller than the rest, framed in silver carved with strange runes. It glowed faintly from within.

Aria felt drawn to it. The surface rippled and showed her reflection—only it wasn’t her. It was a version of her, older, eyes hollow, her hands dripping red.

She stumbled back. “It’s showing me—”

“Your death,” Dr. Fen said softly. “That must be it.”

Suddenly, Garrick’s reflection moved without him. It stepped forward, grinning. The glass cracked.

“Move!” Aria shouted.

But too late—the reflection’s hand burst through the mirror, grabbing Garrick’s wrist. He roared, trying to pull free as the others rushed forward. The reflection dragged, stronger than any human hand.

Aria seized Garrick’s other arm. “Hold on!”

The glass shattered completely, and both man and reflection vanished. The mirror went dark.

“Garrick!” Aria screamed.

Silence.

The noblewoman fell to her knees. “He’s gone… just like the boy.”

Dr. Fen trembled, staring at the ruined glass. “The palace isn’t just showing death—it’s taking them through it.”

Aria clenched her jaw. “Then this place feeds on fear… and reflection. We can’t look at it.”

As they turned to leave, the walls shifted again. The mirrors around them began to fade, replaced by stone—ancient, cracked, burned.

They stumbled back into the corridor, the door sealing behind them.

But just before it closed, Aria saw something flicker in the glass—Garrick’s reflection staring out at her, mouth moving silently, eyes pleading.

Then darkness swallowed him whole.