Chapter Eleven: The Mirror That Breathes
She had no idea how much time had passed.
In this place, time didn't move—
it decayed.
Night and day were indistinguishable, the sky a starless gray.
Noor walked on a surface that looked like glass, though her steps made no sound.
It was as if she had no body—only a shadow walking on nothing.
At first, she screamed every minute.
But over time, her voice faded, as if the mirror itself was feeding on her breath.
She stopped before a slanted wall painted in murky gray, etched with faint patterns resembling human faces.
She leaned closer—
and froze.
The faces moved.
Twisting, crying, mouths opening without sound.
She recognized some of them—her neighbor, her university friend, even her mother.
All of them… trapped in the glass.
She reached out, trembling, and touched the surface.
The faces suddenly began to scream—no sound reached her ears,
but she felt the sound inside her head.
"We are here… we are the reflections… we are what they left behind…"
She staggered back, sobbing—
then another voice, different from the rest, whispered through the walls:
"The mirror never returns what it breathes in."
She spun around—
and there he was.
Niyar stood a few meters away, though only half his body was visible.
The other half was swallowed by shadow, as if something was slowly consuming him.
His gray eyes glimmered with a strange, dangerous calm.
— "You…"
— "I warned you, Noor. Nothing leaves this place the way it entered."
— "What is this place?!"
— "The House of the Mirror."
— "You mean…"
— "Yes. The being that watches from behind the glass is the one who creates reflections.
It isn't a doorway—
it's a creature.
Ancient, silent, asleep behind every mirror, stretching across time."
Noor stepped back.
— "This is a nightmare."
Niyar smiled faintly.
— "Perhaps. But the real nightmares don't leave when you wake."
He stepped closer, shadows writhing around him like living serpents.
— "When you looked into the mirror that night, you touched an open wound.
The mirror sensed you… saw what was inside you.
The fear, the loneliness, the wish to disappear.
So it gave you what you asked for—without asking the price."
— "I want out!"
He laughed, but the sound was soft and fractured.
— "To get out, you must first see what lies inside."
— "Inside what?"
— "Your true self."
He lifted his hand toward the gray wall.
The trapped faces shifted rapidly, reshaping—
until a new image emerged.
Noor herself—
a small child, crying before a broken mirror.
The scene was painfully familiar.
She remembered that night—her father's death in an accident, her mother screaming in the other room while she hid alone behind the mirror, crying.
That was the first time she saw a strange reflection smiling at her.
Niyar whispered,
— "You were connected to the mirror since childhood."
— "The mirror didn't create you, Noor…
you created it."
She stood silent for a long moment, tears dripping down her cheeks.
— "You… you knew this from the start."
— "Yes."
— "Why didn't you tell me?!"
— "Because you weren't ready.
You didn't come here by accident—you were summoned.
The mirror didn't swallow you…
you willingly walked inside."
The room trembled, faces screaming, shadows closing in.
Niyar's form began dissolving, but his voice reached her sharply:
— "Be careful, Noor… the mirror is hungry now."
She ran.
The ground shattered behind her like thin glass.
Hands of trapped faces reached out from the walls, trying to seize her.
Every step felt like falling through an endless dream.
Until she reached a narrow corridor with another mirror at the end.
It was different—
golden light glowed from within,
and a soft voice called her name.
"Noor… come… this is your true home."
She reached for it—
her hand inches from the glass—
when Niyar's scream tore through the darkness behind her:
— "Don't touch it! That's not a doorway—
it's the mirror's mouth!"
She turned—
too late.
The glass split open like a massive jaw,
and gray arms burst out, dragging her inside.
The last thing she saw was her other self in the real world—
smiling calmly at the mirror,
blood dripping from the tips of her fingers.
Then everything went dark.
A final whisper echoed inside her:
"Every reflection begins with a face."