A gentle chirpping of birds luna wakes up from sleep , ,..
Isabella knocks on the door ,
Luna : come in
Isabella stand besides the door and says ,"luna, I know we didn't really have a through conversation lately, but after I come from the outing , I'll talk to you . By that time....
I hope you'll behave , right (she smiled in an awkward way and left )
Luna , "Talking with you will only lead me to waste my energy on you , luna with an ignoring expressions
"Today I'll just explore this castle more , let's take a break from reading books "
There's only one place left , the underground cannal in the back forest of Velmora castle
She got in the cannal behind the castle, it was an waterway , she walked to the end , there she found an old house but an big one , dried out aboundend for decades .
She noticed a broken window and swepts inside ..,.
The house was almost connected to welmora castle , as if it's same .,.
The wind howled through the broken arches of Velmora Castle as Luna stepped over fallen bricks and rotting carpet, she could hear the echoes from Velmora castle through the cannal , she is insíde the house , her small boots barely making a sound. Though she appeared no more than nine a delicate porcelain doll of a girl her mind operated with a killer's precision.
she found a photograph.
It lay beneath a loose floorboard in what was once a child's playroom: a photo frame carved in bone-white wood, its surface painted with flaking roses. Inside, a family of four stood together. A mother. A father. A young boy. And a girl who looked unsettlingly like Luna herself.
The longer she stared, the more unease gripped her.
"That smile... It doesn't reach the eyes." she thought.
Each day she visited the castle after Isabella classes, something changed in the photo. First, the mother vanished. Then the boy. Then the girl.
"They're disappearing. One by one. Not fading being erased."
She returned again the next evening. Only the father remained.
The storm broke that night. The floorboards groaned as if warning her away. But Luna wasn't afraid. What could haunt her now?
She took the photo frame and pressed it to the wall. The wall shivered.
"A cursed frame. A portal. A prison." Luna's thoughts spiraled.
Then she saw it—etched into the backing paper of the frame, a name: The Weaver.
"So that's the puppeteer. Not a ghost. A predator who weaves reality like thread."
There were two doors in the hall. Both appeared out of nowhere as the photo's glass cracked. One was splattered in ink and mirrors. The other held a child's doll hanging by its neck.
She chose the doll.
"If I were a demon... I'd hide in something sentimental."
The door creaked open to reveal a nursery choked in dust. A child's laugh echoed faintly. Luna's violet eyes scanned the room.
In the center sat the doll.
"Who are you?" Luna whispered.
The doll blinked.
"Cursed objects don't talk unless bound by unfinished deals or souls."
Then it spoke.
"She gave me away... to never grow up... to stay a child forever."
Luna's heartbeat didn't rise, but her mind sharpened.
"She? The girl in the photo. Her name must be... Elya."
The doll's stitched mouth shifted. "I belonged to her. But now I am hers."
"Whose?"
"The Weaver."
*"So the Weaver collects innocence. Elya traded hers away. For what? Eternal childhood? Freedom from growing up?"
"But you're not hers anymore, are you?" Luna said softly.
"No," the doll replied. "Now I belong to you."
A chill wrapped around Luna's spine.
She turned to the drawer beside the cradle. It clicked open as though invited. Inside was a red thread glowing faintly, like embers beneath skin.
"A soul tether. Between Elya... and the Weaver."
She reached toward it.
"Break it and risk her soul. Keep it and risk my own."
Luna hesitated.
She closed the drawer.
"I want to talk to her," Luna said.
The mirror behind the crib pulsed. A ripple ran across it like silk catching wind.
Luna stepped through.
The mirror world greeted her not with fire but silence. A hallway stretched forward, inverted and flickering. Portraits lined the walls. Each with scratched-out eyes.
At the end of the hall stood a girl in a white dress, her back turned.
"Elya," Luna said.
The girl turned, her eyes mirrors of her own.
"I didn't want to grow up," she said. "Growing up means hurting, forgetting, losing."
"You asked the wrong being," Luna whispered.
She stepped forward. The Weaver stirred in the shadows behind Elya.
"Let her go," Luna said.
The Weaver's voice coiled around her thoughts like smoke. "Give me a replacement."
Luna narrowed her eyes. "I'd rather show you the truth."
She raised the mirror shard she had taken from the nursery—the one reflecting truth, not illusion.
The Weaver screamed.
Its thread-webs snapped. The mirror world cracked like thin ice.
Luna ran, dragging Elya's hand behind her. They fell through the nursery floor, through time and glass and grief.
He woke up , dark everywhere
The photo frame lay blackened beside her. Elya's soul had passed on.
Luna looked into a standing mirror in the hallway.
Her reflection smiled without her.
"A part of me stayed behind... And it's watching."