The morning arrived cloaked in a deceptive calm. The light that spilled into Vivian’s room was golden, almost serene, but it carried with it an undercurrent of something… wrong.

She sat on the edge of her bed, staring at the vanity mirror. It shouldn’t have been there. She’d seen it destroyed with her own hands, watched it shatter into a thousand jagged pieces. Yet here it was—whole, pristine, and utterly uninvited.

The reflection within was quiet now, no smiles, no words. Just her own weary face staring back at her.

“Sebastian,” she murmured under her breath, rising from the bed. She needed to tell him, to show him, to prove she wasn’t losing her grip on reality.

As she made her way through the halls of the estate, the walls seemed closer than before, the corridors darker despite the sunlight filtering through the windows. Every step felt heavier, as if unseen hands were pulling at her feet.

By the time she reached Sebastian’s study, her breath was shallow, her skin damp with sweat. She knocked once, twice, before pushing the door open.

He looked up from his desk, his face etched with worry. “Vivian?”

“It’s back,” she said, her voice trembling. “The mirror. It’s back.”

Sebastian froze, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about? I destroyed the shards myself. I saw them burn.”

“I’m not imagining this,” she insisted, gripping the edge of the desk. “It’s there, in my room. Perfect. Untouched. Like nothing ever happened.”

He rose from his chair, his expression guarded. “Show me.”

When they returned to her room, Vivian hesitated at the door. A part of her feared what she might find inside. What if the mirror wasn’t there? What if she opened the door and found nothing but an empty vanity, proving her worst fears—that the reflection was alive only in her mind?

Steeling herself, she pushed the door open.

There it was. The mirror stood as she had left it, glinting innocently in the soft light.

Sebastian’s breath caught. “How is this possible?” he whispered, stepping closer.

Vivian didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

As Sebastian examined the mirror, his fingers tracing the edges of its ornate frame, she caught something in the corner of her eye—a flash of color. She turned, and for a moment, she thought she saw flowers blooming in the shadows of the room. Pale, delicate petals unfurling in impossible silence.

“Did you see that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Sebastian glanced at her, frowning. “See what?”

Vivian pointed to the corner, but the flowers were gone, the shadows still and empty.

“Nothing,” she muttered, shaking her head. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t. She knew what she had seen.

That night, as the estate settled into its usual silence, Vivian lay awake in her bed, her eyes fixed on the mirror. She didn’t dare close them, afraid of what might appear if she let her guard down.

The air in the room was heavy, suffused with the faint, sweet scent of flowers. She sat up, her pulse quickening. The scent grew stronger, more intoxicating, until it filled the entire space.

And then she saw them.

The flowers were back, blooming across the walls, their pale petals glowing faintly in the darkness. They spread like vines, twisting and curling, their roots sinking into the floorboards.

Vivian climbed out of bed, her hands trembling as she reached out to touch one of the blossoms. It felt real, its surface soft and cool against her fingertips.

But the moment she touched it, the petals crumbled into ash, the vines recoiling as if burned.

A low, melodic laugh echoed through the room.

Vivian spun around to face the mirror. Her reflection was there, smiling serenely, its hands outstretched. In its grasp was a bouquet of the same flowers, their petals dripping with something dark and viscous.

“Do you like them?” the reflection asked, its voice lilting and musical. “I made them just for you.”

Vivian’s throat tightened. “Why are you doing this? What do you want from me?”

The reflection tilted its head, its smile widening. “I want what you want, Vivian. I want peace. Don’t you see? These flowers… they’re your fears, your pain, your memories. Let them grow. Let them bloom. Let them take you.”

“No,” Vivian whispered, backing away. “I’m not yours. You don’t control me.”

The reflection’s eyes darkened, its smile fading. “Don’t I?” it murmured, its voice low and dangerous.

The flowers began to bloom faster, spreading across the room like wildfire. The air grew thick, choking, as the scent of the blossoms turned sour, acrid.

Vivian stumbled toward the door, her lungs burning, but the vines reached out, wrapping around her ankles, her wrists, pulling her back.

The reflection watched, impassive, as the flowers closed in around her.

“Stop!” she screamed, thrashing against the vines. “You won’t win! You can’t have me!”

But the reflection only laughed, the sound echoing through the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it began, it stopped.

The flowers vanished, the vines dissolved, and the air cleared. Vivian collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath.

When she looked up, the mirror was empty.

Her reflection was gone.

To be continued...