My daughter lost her life due to giving birth to my beautiful granddaughter. Her father, devastated or unwilling to face the responsibility, disappeared after her passing.
From that moment, I knew there's only one choice. I must become the guardian of my granddaughter. So, I named her myself — Marlene.
My daughter was a bright soul — she always rants about how she wanted to be a great mother like me. Losing her shattered a piece of me I thought could never be mended.
But then came Marlene. My beautiful granddaughter, born from both love and loss. She fills the aching void left in my heart.
But still, there are moments when the pain slips through. It hurts knowing the fact that my daughter will never see her child grow.
And that thought of that loss will never fail to leave a quiet ache in my heart.
So that's why I never wanted my granddaughter to feel the same pain — the pain of losing someone very dear.
But my fate failed me.
Just a few months after Marlene's eighteenth birthday, I took my final breath. My body grew still and cold.
I had to watch my own coffin being closed, the soil shovelled over it, the whispers of goodbyes.
But that wasn't painful for me to watch.
I had to watch Marlene — her hands trembling, her face pale with grief as the light in her eyes dimmed.
My heart was filled with nothing but pain. The very thing I swore to protect her from… I was the one who made her feel it.
Time moved on, indifferent as ever. The seasons changed, days turned into nights, and the world kept spinning — and I watched.
And Marlene... Oh Marlene. Her laughter was gone. Her spark had dulled.
The light I once swore to protect flickered faintly now, burdened by grief far too heavy for someone so precious.
And all I could do was watch… and hope that somehow, she would find her way back to the light.
Life was hard for Marlene. Every time she walked through our house, the only thing on her mind was the moments we spent together.
It was too painful for her, so she made a decision.
To distract herself, she decided to work at a small café in our town and earn some money.
During her time at work, Marlene made a new friend — Darcie.
Darcie had been one of her classmates, though they weren't close back then. Thankfully, they recognized each other.
As Marlene and Darcie grew close, she began to trust Darcie with her secrets and feelings
With Darcie by her side, I noticed Marlene's spark returning.
And I was proud, because now — it seemed like Marlene had found a new sense of hope and light.
With that, I decided it was time to rest for a while.
Time passed, and soon, I woke from my rest. It seemed like months had gone by. It was a long rest, but with that — my energy was full and my soul is free to wonder around.
Naturally, the first thing I did was go to see my sweet Marlene.
I stumble upon her speaking with someone on the phone call, and it sounded like Darcie.
"Are you sure about this decision, Marly...? It's a big one," Darcie's voice came through the speaker, echoing in the room.
"Darcie... I've told you so many times. Yes, I'm sure," my granddaughter said, lying on the bed.
A decision? It seemed that I had rested long enough to miss what kind of decision my sweet Marlene had made.
But I was sure — whatever it was, it was the best for her.
"Confident, I see! Don't worry, Marly. Grandma Lucy would be proud if she saw your decision!" Darcie playfully teased, and she wasn't wrong.
"I know... I know... She's always proud of me," Marlene said with a smile, closing her eyes and letting out a small sigh.
Yes, I am proud of you my sweetheart…
Marlene clears her throat.
"Uncle Roger is ready to help me, right?" my granddaughter asked as she fiddled her bed sheets.
"Of course! My dad's all set to help you move your stuff," Darcie replied cheerfully.
"Great! I'll pack my stuff tomorrow. But for now... good night, Darcie," Marlene said, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Ah... good night, Marly. Sweet dreams!" the girl on the other end replied.
With that, the call ended.
The light source in the room went out, and my granddaughter drifted into a deep slumber.
My soul sat beside her sleeping form, wishing I could brush a strand of hair from her face and gently caress her beautiful features.
Marlene, my sweet granddaughter... oh, how I wish I could be by your side.
I could only watch as your chest rises and falls, so peacefully, unaware of my soul that lingers just inches away.
If only you could hear me — my sweetheart. I would whisper how proud I am of the person you're becoming.
I reach out instinctively, my hand passing through your skin. No warmth. No contact.
If only I could touch you — Marlene. I would hold you close and shield you from the pain I left behind.
But still, I stay.
Because love like this doesn't fade, not even in death.
My granddaughter, Marlene — live with love in your heart, and let laughter and smiles light your way.
Let joy guide you through the dark, and know that even in the quiet, I hope you know that I am with you.
I sat there, helpless, listening to her soft breaths.
My eyes never leave her face, I watch her with nothing but love in my gaze.
Every feature of hers was a memory, a reflection of the little girl I once held in my arms.
I wanted to reach out, to kiss her forehead like I used to when she was small. But I couldn't.
I could only watch, unable to touch.
My eyes stared for so long, and I begin to noticed that the rays of morning light crept through the curtains.
Marlene stirred, her eyelids fluttering open slowly. For a moment, she lay still, taking in the comfort of the warmth of the blankets.
The blankets I once knitted for her...
She stretched, rubbing the sleep from her eyes, and gazed around the room. It was the same as it always had been.
With a sigh, she glanced at the clock on her nightstand, then the picture frame beside it.
A photo of me — her grandmother. Marlene's heart skipped a beat.
"Grandmother Lucy..." she murmured with a soft voice.
For the briefest of moments, she could almost feel my presence beside her. But she shook her head, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.
"I must be imagining things," she whispered to herself.
My heart ached when I heard her say that, almost as if it had been pierced by a thousand needles.
As she stood up and made her way out, I tried to run toward her.
I wanted to let her know that I was here, to whisper that I — her grandmother — was still with her.
But to no avail. My soul passed right through her, like a whisper lost in the wind.
Her body was warm, alive, and yet I was nothing more than an echo of the death.
But to my notice, Marlene shivers a little.
"Brr.... Geez, what a weird morning. Was I that tired?" she said to herself, wrapping her arms around her shoulder.
Could she feel me? Was she beginning to sense my presence, even in the smallest way?
The connection that had once felt so distant now seemed a little closer, just within reach.
I wished I could comfort her, tell her it wasn't just the cold. It was me, still here, still loving her.
But all I could do was watch as she carried on, unaware of the spirit standing just behind her.
Marlene stood near the kitchen counter, letting out a yawn as she waited for her coffee.
The soft hum of the coffee machine filled the quiet morning, and the smell of brewing coffee slowly filled the room.
Marlene closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply.
"Ding...! Ding...! Ding...!" The phone vibrated and rang, an unwelcome disruption in the calm.
"Huh...?" Marlene startled slightly, her eyes snapping open as she turned her gaze toward her room.
The ringing felt like an intrusion, and for a moment, she just stared.
My granddaughter looks surprised, her once calm face was now filled with startled look as she tries to calm herself.
With a sigh, she rubbed her eyes and slowly walk towards her room.
My granddaughter looked surprised, her once calm face now filled with a startled expression. She froze for a moment, eyes wide, as she tried to steady herself.
She reached for her phone on the nightstand. The screen lit up, displaying Darcie's number.
Marlene tapped on her phone and put it on speaker before she walked back to the kitchen counter.
The sound of the ringing stopped abruptly, replaced by a brief silence before a voice came through.
"Good morning, Marly..." her voice was soft and quiet, it sounds like Darcie just woke up.
"Good morning to you too, Darcie. You sounded sleepy... You just woke up, didn't you?" Marlene's tone it's mixed with curiosity.
There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Marlene could almost picture Darcie rubbing her eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep.
The silence stretched for a moment as Marlene poured herself a cup of hot coffee.
The sound of the liquid cascading into the mug filled the room, followed by the familiar, comforting scent of the coffee brewing.
"I can tell. You sound like you're about to fall back asleep," Marlene smiled softly as she stirred her coffee.
A light chuckle came through the phone, and Marlene could hear the rustling of blankets.
"I know... Anyway, my father told me you need to start packing up. He'll pick you up at two," Darcie finally replied, her voice more awake now, the usual cheerfulness coming back.
"At two, huh? I should start packing," she responded, taking a sip from her cup. The warmth of the coffee soothed her throat.
"Mhm! You've got a long day ahead — good luck!" Darcie said in a cheerful, slightly teasing tone.
"Thanks. I'll need it," Marlene chuckled softly, setting her cup down on the counter.
She glanced around the kitchen, her eyes landing on little items that held years of memories, the thought of leaving felt heavier than she'd expected.
"Well, I better get to work. See you, Darcie," Marlene said, placing her cup down gently on the counter.
"Alright, see ya!" came the cheerful reply from the other end.
With that, Marlene ended the call, the screen fading to black as silence settled back into the room.
As I watched Marlene, I couldn't help but notice her body language.
Her eyes scanned the room, not with urgency, but with quiet hesitation — as if every object held a memory, she wasn't quite ready to pack away.
My poor granddaughter... It must be so hard for her.
But I knew she believed this decision was for the best. By moving away from this house, she could finally take a step forward — away from the memory, grief of my death.
Even if it meant leaving behind the place filled with the mist of our memory.
I watch the way Marlene turned away from the kitchen and made her way to her bedroom.
The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, creating a comfortable atmosphere.
She pulled out a few cardboard boxes from her closet, their flat shapes unfolding with a few practiced motions, the sound of tape tearing echoed faintly as she works.
Slowly, carefully, she began — her hands hovered over a row of books on her shelf, selecting the ones she couldn't leave behind.
Then came the framed photographs. Her hands paused over one in particular, a picture of the two of us, taken on a warm spring afternoon.
Her lips pressed together into a small smile, eyes soft with memory, and she gently laid it on top of the books.
She continued packing in silence, each item tucked away with care — clothes, toys, knick-knacks from years of birthdays and holidays.
There was no rush, only reflection of memories.
And I stayed beside her, unseen and silent, witnessing each box being sealed and secured.
By midday, the boxes in her room were stacked neatly — sealed, labelled, and ready.
Marlene stood for a moment, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face as she exhaled deeply.
"Darcie was right, it was indeed a long day..." she uttered as she turned around and look at the house once again.
Her gaze drifted upward toward the ceiling, where the small pull-string to the attic hatch hung just above the hallway. A flicker of uncertainty crossed her face.
"Huh... Come to think about it..." I heard my granddaughter said those words as she walks towards it.
With quiet steps, she made her way toward it. The wooden ladder creaked softly as she pulled it down, dust falling in faint trails through the sunlit air.
She coughs from the dust and hesitated for only a second before beginning the climb.
The attic was dim, the only light spilling in through a small window coated in years of grime. The air was heavy with dust and age.
"Ugh... This place it's nasty," Marlene coughed lightly, waving a hand in front of her face as she looked around.
Boxes. Old trunks. Covered furniture. All embed by dust.
She stepped carefully across the wooden boards, her fingers brushing over a stack of boxes marked in my handwriting.
All of these years, this place had held all of my secrets. I never allow Marlene to step a foot up here...
"Grandmother Lucy... I wonder why this place it's so dear to you," she whispered under her breath, her voice barely more than a breath.
Her hands brushed past old photo albums and a stack of my handwritten letters, all of my secrets were written there.
Secrets that I've never told her about.
Unfortunately, those letters don't pick her interest.
But something else did, leaning against the far wall beneath an old sheet. Curious, Marlene stood and stepped toward it, her fingers gently pulling away the fabric.
Beneath the dust and time-worn cloth was a tall mirror — elegant, with a carved wooden frame.
"Why would grandmother keep a mirror away from me?" she whispered.
And in that moment, I felt my chest tightens. Oh, Marlene... If I were you, I wouldn't touch that mirror.
She reached out and wiped the dust away with the sleeve of her sweater, revealing herself more clearly in the mirror.
But just for a split second — just the faintest flicker — she saw something else.
"Huh...! What the..-" her words got stuck on her throat as the mirror begin to glows.
The lights were too bright, forcing her to shut her eyes close. Few seconds later, her eyes begin to flutter open.
Where her reflection once stood, there was now an entirely different room.
And then, before she could fully process what was happening, the glass seemed to pull her in.
The world around her seemed to twist, the attic faded from view, replaced by a blur of colours, sounds, and sensations.
She felt weightless for a heartbeat, and then, with a soft thud, her backside landed on solid ground.
"Ah...!" she yelps slowly before opening her eyes. She blinked, adjusting to the dimly lit surroundings.
She was no longer in the attic.
The smell of old paper and dust filled the air, but there was something… magical about it.
"Miss Lucienne...?" a small voice called out.
Marlene turned her head sharply toward the sound.
Two figures came into view — young, identical in every way. They stood side by side, their expressions curious.
"No... that doesn't look like Miss Lucienne," the boy murmured, glancing at his twin.
"Ehh... you're right," the girl replied. She stepped closer, her gaze fixed on Marlene as she began to circle her slowly.
Without hesitation, the girl reached out and gently tugged on a strand of Marlene's hair, inspecting her face and features with wide, curious eyes.
Her touch wasn't unkind, but it was enough to make Marlene tense. She froze, unsure of what to say or do.
"You're not her... but you do look like her." The girl's head tilted thoughtfully.
"Caroline, you're scaring her," the boy said before pulling his twin away from Marlene.
"Hello there, lady. My name's Cameron, and she, my twin, is Caroline," the young boy said as he extended his hand for Marlene to take.
Marlene hesitated for a moment, eyeing Cameron's outstretched hand. Her heart was still racing.
But something in Cameron's calm demeanour put her slightly at ease. She reached out slowly and took his hand.
"Marlene," she said cautiously.
"Marlene! That's such a lovely name. It sounds kind of old... but sweet!" Caroline clapped her hands together softly.
Caroline — she was just as cheerful and childish as I remembered. Always the one to speak first, to tug on sleeves, to laugh freely. So different from her younger brother…
"Caroline…" Cameron gave his sister a look.
"What? I'm just saying!" she replied with a shrug, then turned her eyes back to Marlene.
It warmed my soul to see them again — unchanged by time, even though the world around them had shifted.
And now, here they were, standing before my granddaughter.
Marlene.
"Ahem... Anyway, So, how did you get through the mirror? Only Miss Lucienne ever used that path," he asked with curiosity as he eyes my granddaughter.
Lucienne... It's been so long since I heard that name. I kind of miss it.
"Miss Lucienne? I… I don't know how. I was cleaning the attic, and then I saw the mirror and it pull me in." Marlene's brow furrowed.
The twins exchanged a knowing glance.
"Turn around," Caroline command softly.
"Does that look familiar to you," Cameron questioned.
Marlene turned slowly, following Caroline's soft command. Her breath caught in her throat.
Behind her stood the same tall mirror — the one from the attic — only now, it wasn't covered in dust or surrounded by old boxes.
"That's… that's the mirror from my attic," Marlene whispered, stepping cautiously toward it.
"Looks like we were right!" Caroline folded her arms and stood proudly.
"Yes. Apparently, both of the mirrors connect our world and yours, Lady Marlene," the younger twin replied as he looks at his sister.
"But... How does it end up in my attic?" Marlene asked, turning back to face the twins.
"That's what we're trying to figure out. The mirror was used years ago. Miss Lucienne created with her magic. And before entering your world, she promised that she'll come back!" Caroline replied, her voice thoughtful now.
"I see. Who's this... Miss Lucienne? If I may ask..." Marlene glanced between them, her heart pounding again.
"She was our mentor, and also the guardian witch of the Avoloria Kingdom." Cameron said at last.
"It's been forty-three years since she enters the mirror," Caroline added, her tone quieter, tinged with sadness.
Lucienne...
Marlene's breath caught. That couldn't be right.
Me, as her grandmother, I had always kept so many things hidden — journals locked away.
Marlene looked at the twins, the puzzle slowly forming in her mind.
"...Lucienne," she whispered.
The room fell silent.
Marlene fell very silent. Oh? Is my sweetheart beginning to connect the dots between my attic, this world, and Lucienne?
Or is she doubting her guess? I thought it was quite obvious
"Lady Marlene...?" Cameron called out softly.
My granddaughter blinked, her senses returning as she stared at the twins. She placed a hand over her chest, as if steadying her racing heart.
"I'm so sorry... I need to go, it was nice meeting the two of you," Marlene said, her voice slightly shaky.
Without waiting for a response, she turned and walked toward the mirror. Just like before, the surface shimmered — and it pulled her in.
"Huh? No! Wait — Lady Marlene, we have a lot to discuss!" Caroline called out, rushing after her.
But when she reached the mirror and pressed her palm against its cold surface, it did not pull her in.
"Hahh... What a shame. I really thought we'd finally found clues about Miss Lucienne," Caroline sighed, her shoulders slumping as she looked back at her brother.
"Such a shame indeed," Cameron murmured, turning away with a quiet shake of his head.
Right, I agree with you Cameron. It was indeed such a shame. But perhaps my granddaughter isn't ready to face you yet, little twins.
Don't worry. Soon, she'll be ready to face the two of you.
I'm sure of that.
To face the world she stumbled into.
The world hidden behind my mirror.
My world.