Secrets in the Silver Mirror : Chapter 2

Sarah couldn’t stop thinking about the mirror. She tried to distract herself, focusing on chores around her grandmother’s house, but her mind kept wandering back to the attic. That whisper, so faint yet so clear—“Secrets don’t stay hidden forever.”

Finally, unable to resist, she decided to return to the attic. Each step up the old wooden stairs made her heart beat faster, a strange mix of fear and excitement surging through her. She was certain that something in that mirror was waiting for her, something she couldn’t understand but was desperate to uncover.

As she entered the attic, she saw the mirror gleaming faintly in the dim light. It looked just as it had before, with its worn golden frame and glass that seemed to shimmer even in the darkness. She took a deep breath, stepping closer, her reflection coming into view.

But this time, her reflection wasn’t alone.

There, faintly behind her, was the outline of a figure. It was hard to make out—a shape in shadow, almost as if it were part of the mirror itself. Sarah’s pulse quickened, but she held her ground. She knew that whatever was there couldn’t harm her… or at least she hoped it couldn’t.

“Who… who are you?” she whispered, her voice shaking slightly.

For a moment, there was silence. Then, just as before, a soft rustling sound filled the room, like dry leaves brushing together. She leaned closer, her eyes never leaving the shadow in the mirror. The whisper returned, but this time, the words were clearer.

“Help me.”

Sarah’s breath caught. Help me? The voice seemed desperate, pleading. She didn’t know how to respond, but something inside her—some deep curiosity, maybe even compassion—urged her to answer.

“How?” she asked softly, almost afraid of her own voice echoing in the stillness.

The mirror remained silent, her reflection unchanged. She leaned even closer, almost pressing her face to the glass, straining to hear any trace of that voice again. But there was nothing. Just her own wide-eyed reflection staring back.

Disappointed, she stepped back, her mind racing. The figure had asked for help, but from what? Or from whom? She realized that whatever mystery lay hidden here wasn’t going to reveal itself easily.

As she turned to leave, something caught her eye. A small etching, nearly invisible, was carved into the bottom corner of the mirror’s frame. She crouched down, running her fingers over the faint letters. They spelled out a single word:

Ravenwood.

The name felt strangely familiar, as if she’d heard it before, but she couldn’t place it. Her thoughts spun with questions. Who—or what—was Ravenwood? And what did it have to do with her?

Sarah left the attic, the word burned into her mind, knowing that her search for answers was only beginning.