Chapter 5 The Girl in the Glass

The rain started before sunset. Duskhaven had a habit of responding to dark omens with darker weather, as if the sky itself wanted to wash secrets away before they could be spoken. Felix stood in the center of Veronica's living room, the shattered glass from the anonymous package laid out on the coffee table like puzzle pieces. The red writing was still damp, bleeding into the newspaper underneath. "Who sent it?" Veronica asked, arms crossed. "No clue," Felix replied. "But whoever they are, they know about the mirror realm.

They know about *you.*" Veronica picked up a shard with a gloved hand. The reflection inside it shimmered strangely - her face looking back at her, but slightly... *off.* The eyes were too still. The smile too delayed. Like a puppet trying to remember how to be human. "She's not done," she said aloud. "That means... the Hollow version of me didn't disappear with the gate." Felix nodded grimly. "What if it wasn't a gate we closed... but a *lock* she tricked us into resetting?" Veronica's lips tightened. "Which means she's out there. Somewhere." --- That night, Felix went alone to the theater. He needed answers. Needed to see the stage again. As he stepped onto the warped floorboards, a strange sensation prickled down his spine - like being watched through glass. The candles were all cold. The mirrors were gone. Except one. Center stage. A standing mirror, antique, freestanding, its surface clouded with condensation... from the *inside.* He moved closer. And there she was. Veronica - but not. Same eyes. Same face. Same scar from falling off a bike at eleven. But the way she moved was *perfectly symmetrical,* like a reflection that forgot how to adapt. She smiled. Not kindly. "Hello, Felix," she said. "You've been reading our family secrets." He swallowed. "You're not her." "Oh, but I was," she said. "Long before *she* became real. I was the first memory - the first performance. The first *version.*" She tilted her head. "Your Veronica is the copy." Felix's breath caught. "Liar." The mirror laughed - a crystalline sound. "You can't be sure, can you? How would you *ever* know?" Then the glass fogged again. She was gone. --- Back at the house, Veronica was pacing, replaying the shattered message in her mind. **"You're not who you think you are."** The thought terrified her - not because it might be true, but because it already *felt* true. All her life she'd had gaps. Forgotten birthdays. Déjà vu that lasted too long. Dreams of memories she didn't own. She opened Gideon's journal again, flipped to the family tree, and traced the name marked with a mirror glyph - her grandmother, *Isadora Vale.* There, in a barely legible footnote: > "Reflected line must occasionally stabilize. Replacements are necessary when echoes fade." Replacements. Her mouth went dry. Was she an echo? A real person... or just the current vessel holding the illusion together? --- Felix burst in, soaked with rain, eyes wild. "I saw her," he said. "The other you. She said *you're* the copy." Veronica stared at him. "And what do *you* think?" "I don't care," he replied, voice firm. "Whatever she is, she's dangerous. Whatever *you* are - you're the one who came back. You're the one who fought. That makes you real enough for me." She blinked, surprised by tears. Then, a slow rumble. The mirror in the hallway - one of the oldest ones in the house - *cracked.* Not from a break. From a *knock.* Three slow, deliberate taps from the other side. Felix and Veronica looked at each other. She grabbed a fire iron. He grabbed salt. The mirror didn't break through - not yet. But a voice whispered from inside it: > "One must return. > > One must remain." And then - silence.