Adrah had never felt truly at home in the village, where people called her “Wanderer,” though no one knew exactly where she’d wandered from. They whispered as she passed, casting quick glances at her face, hoping to glimpse whatever secrets she carried. She’d grown used to their stares, but it was the mirror that made her uneasy. The reflection was one she never recognized.

Eastglen sat nestled in the hollow of the Mistlight Valley, a place where the fog rolled in like a living thing, and the sun was more myth than reality. Most people who lived there were content in their quiet routines, tending to their farms and their families. But there was an unsettling quality to the valley, something hidden beneath the stillness of the land. Something ancient, something forgotten.

The first time Adrah had looked into the village’s mirror, she’d expected little. It was an old thing, cracked at the corners and clouded in spots, but there was no mistaking the way her reflection had rippled—like water disturbed by a breeze. For an instant, her face blurred, the features distorted, and a chill ran through her bones. She hadn’t dared to look again until the following evening, when curiosity overcame caution.

The mirror was in the town square, hanging on a weathered post as though a relic of the past. Few people used it, preferring their own hand mirrors or simply relying on their own judgment. Adrah found herself called to it every evening, watching, waiting, expecting something. She had no name for the unease that grew, only that it gnawed at her from the inside out.

On the third night, after the sun dipped behind the misty horizon and the shadows lengthened, Adrah stood before the mirror once more. Her fingers brushed the frame, the wood rough and worn under her touch. The air was still, and the village seemed to hold its breath as she stared into the reflective surface.

She saw herself, of course, but there was something different about it. Her reflection smiled at her, but the smile was wrong—twisted, forced. And then, as if mocking her, the image blinked slowly, almost deliberately. Adrah’s heart thudded in her chest. Something planted her feet to the earth, preventing her from stepping back.

“Is that what you think of yourself, Adrah?” came a voice, soft and seductive, from the depths of the mirror.

She jerked her gaze away, but the voice followed her, lingering in the surrounding air. Not a voice she recognized, yet it felt oddly familiar, like a whisper from a half-forgotten dream.

She turned to flee, a shadowy woman, her features obscured by the swirling mist clinging to her every movement, blocked her path. The woman’s eyes, glowing faintly beneath the hood, were the color of the fog itself: gray and endless.

“Who are you?” Adrah demanded, her voice trembling despite herself.

The woman smiled, not a comforting smile. It was the same smile she had seen in the mirror. The smile that didn’t belong.

“I am what you seek, and what you fear. The reflection you see is not your own, Adrah. It never has been.”

Adrah’s pulse quickened, her mind racing. “What do you mean? What are you talking about?”

“Look again, child. See what’s hiding from you.”

The woman stepped aside, revealing the mirror once more. Adrah didn’t want to look, but her body moved of its own accord, turning to face the reflective surface. And there, in the glass’s stillness, her reflection no longer mirrored her exact movements.

It was subtle at first—a tilt of the head, a fleeting movement of her fingers, but soon it became unmistakable. The reflection shifted independently, as though alive. Twisting and distorting until it morphed into something else entirely. It grinned, its face a grotesque mockery of Adrah’s own.

“Stop!” Adrah gasped, backing away from the mirror.

The woman’s laughter was low and rich, like the sound of distant thunder. “You think this is an illusion? Smoke and mirrors? No, dear child, this is you—your true self.”

“No,” Adrah whispered, shaking her head. “No, that’s not me. That’s… that’s a monster.”

The woman stepped forward, her eyes brimming with ancient knowledge. “The reflection is not what it seems. You carry the truth within you, Adrah. You’ve always known it, but you’ve been running from it. The shadow in the mirror is a part of you—a part you buried long ago.”

Adrah turned her back to the mirror, breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. She felt the weight of the woman’s words, each one pressing on her chest like an iron hand.

Why now?” she whispered, voice breaking. “Why show me this now?”

The woman’s expression softened, but only for a heartbeat. “Because it is time. Time for you to stop hiding, to stop pretending. You’ve been running from the truth for so long, but it won’t let you go. Ever.”

“I don’t understand,” Adrah said, her voice barely audible. “What am I supposed to do?”

The woman stepped closer; her form solidifying in the mist. “You have a choice, Adrah. You can continue to run, continue to live behind the mask of the person you pretend to be, or you can face the truth. The reflection will always be there, waiting. It is a part of you.”

Adrah’s hands trembled, and her mind was a whirlwind of confusion and fear. She didn’t want to face this—didn’t want to accept that the thing in the mirror, the thing that had haunted her every night. That was her.

A voice deep inside, small but certain, told her it was true. The reflection was a mirror of her soul, the part of her she had long denied.

The woman in the mist spoke one once more, her voice soft. “When you embrace all that you are, Adrah, the illusion will fade. There will be no smoke, no mirrors.”

Taking a deep breath, Adrah turned back to the mirror. This time, she didn’t flinch. She stared at the twisted figure that was her reflection. She could see now, not just the outward distortion, but the rawness beneath—the darkness buried and hidden for so long. It wasn’t a monster, not in the way she had thought. It was a part of her, just as much as the light.

Her eyes locked with her reflection’s, and for the first time, Adrah examined the truth. When she fully understood, she welcomed the shadow. With that, the mist cleared, and the village of Eastglen, the mirror, the woman—all of it—vanished, leaving Adrah standing alone.