Chapter 6: The Mirror's Embrace
Clara's breath caught in her throat as the world spun, twisting in ways she couldn't comprehend. Her body felt heavy, weightless, as though she were being dragged toward something darker, something far worse than what she'd ever imagined.
Her hand still reached for the mirror, for the glass that wasn't supposed to exist. Her reflection was a grotesque mockery of her own self—a hollow version, grinning, eyes black and bottomless. Behind her, the Hollow One lurked, its long limbs stretching unnaturally, as if the reflection could no longer contain it.
"Clara!" Harper's voice was a sharp cry, snapping through the fog of fear. She was still there, tugging at Clara's arm, but the shadow had already locked itself around her. Clara couldn't fight back. She was paralyzed, trapped in the reflection's gravity.
The mirror seemed to pulse with energy, its surface rippling like liquid. The voice, her own voice, called again from the depths of the glass.
"Come… come to me…"
"No!" Harper screamed. She grabbed Clara's shoulders and yanked, but Clara couldn't tear herself away. Her body moved against her will, drawn into the shadow's grasp.
Then, with a sharp crack, the glass shattered. Shards of silver and black exploded outward, catching the dim light of the room, but they didn't fall to the floor. They hung, suspended in the air around Clara like suspended raindrops.
In that moment, the world seemed to bend, to stretch out, and Clara saw it. Beyond the shards of glass was a space that shouldn't exist. A void. A place where nothing and everything intertwined. Where reflections became reality. Where the Hollow One had been born.
Harper was still holding on to her, but the pull from the shattered mirror was too strong. Clara's legs buckled beneath her, and she collapsed to the floor, her head spinning.
"No," she gasped. "Harper, help me… please."
But Harper's face was distant, her eyes wide with terror, as if she could see something Clara couldn't. She stepped back, trembling.
The air in the room grew cold, colder than it had ever been before. Clara's shadow—the one that had clung to her like a second skin, like a part of herself—shifted behind her. It no longer looked like a reflection. It was something else, something darker, and it writhed on the floor like a living thing, stretching, growing, twisting, becoming more monstrous with each passing second.
Harper's voice broke through the chill. "Clara, look at it. Look at your shadow."
Clara didn't want to. She didn't want to see what it had become, what it was capable of. But as she glanced behind her, her heart stopped.
It wasn't her shadow anymore.
It had grown into something that stood on its own, stretching up toward the ceiling like a living nightmare. Its limbs—longer, sharper—tipped with fingers that seemed to flicker, like broken pieces of glass shifting through the air. Its form no longer reflected her; it was its own being now, a twisted mockery of her existence.
The Hollow One wasn't just watching her—it was inside her. Her own reflection had merged with it, and now it was part of her soul. Part of her essence.
"You shouldn't have run," it whispered, its voice a low, guttural murmur. It spoke in tones of hollow whispers and fragmented memories. "I've always been here. I was waiting. Waiting for you to see me."
Clara's mind reeled as she tried to scramble back, but the shadow stretched over her, its form twisting like a snake curling toward its prey.
"No," she whispered, her voice shaking. "No…"
The thing grinned, its eyes wide and hungry, and in that moment, Clara realized—it was her.
It was a piece of herself she had never wanted to face. It was the fear she'd buried deep inside her, the shame, the guilt, the parts of herself she had never allowed to surface. And now, it had consumed everything. There was no separating them anymore. No way back.
"You are me." The Hollow One's voice was cold and mocking. "You will be whole again, Clara. I will take you. You can't hide from me anymore."
Clara wanted to scream, but her voice failed her. She couldn't move. She could only watch as the shadow—her shadow—crawled up her body, merging with her, sinking into her skin, suffocating her.
Harper's voice broke through her panic, frayed and desperate. "Clara, you have to fight it. You have to fight yourself."
Clara closed her eyes, trying to block out the darkness. The cold. The feeling of being consumed from the inside out.
She couldn't breathe.
Then she remembered something—something Harper had said before. The Hollow One is a fragment. A piece of you that was torn away. And that fragment had returned to claim its place. But it had only gotten stronger because Clara had never faced it. She had run from it.
She had buried it so deep that it had grown into something unrecognizable.
It's part of me, she realized. It always has been.
Clara's eyes snapped open, and with a sudden burst of energy, she reached for the broken shards of glass around her. She grabbed one of the largest pieces and held it to her chest.
She didn't need to fight the shadow. She needed to face it. To accept it.
With shaking hands, Clara pressed the shard into her own skin, the sharp edge cutting deep.
"No!" The Hollow One screeched, its voice screeching in agony. "You can't! You—"
But it was too late.
Clara's blood dripped down onto the floor, pooling around her feet. And as it did, something strange happened. The shadow pulled away, its twisted form collapsing in on itself, unraveling like smoke.
The reflection in the shattered glass stopped grinning.
And for the first time in days, Clara felt the pressure on her chest loosen. The weight on her shoulders lift.
Harper rushed to her side, breathless. "Clara, are you—"
"I'm not… I'm not whole yet," Clara whispered, but as she looked at her shadow—now still, silent, and in place—she realized that maybe she had started to return. Maybe, just maybe, she was free.
But deep down, Clara knew that the shadow would never truly leave her. It would always be there, lurking, waiting, a part of her that couldn't be erased.
The battle wasn't over.
It was only just beginning.
To be continued…