The next morning, the city was back to its usual rhythm—hurried footsteps on wet pavement, the distant wail of sirens, the rhythmic hum of traffic. But inside her apartment, time seemed to have slowed.
Sera sat at her desk, staring at the blank screen in front of her. The email from the unknown sender had vanished without a trace. No cache, no archive, not even a draft. It was like it had never existed.
And yet, she remembered every word.
You're not losing your mind. You're awakening to something most people never see.
Trust yourself.
But don't trust the mirror.
She glanced toward the leaning mirror in the corner of the room.
It reflected the space back at her—her chair, the desk, the books stacked neatly beside her laptop.
But there was something off.
Just for a second, she thought she saw movement.
A flicker.
A shadow behind her own reflection.
She turned sharply.
Nothing.
Her heart thudded once, hard against her ribs.
She exhaled slowly, forcing herself to stay calm.
This was ridiculous.
She wasn't some horror movie protagonist seeing ghosts in mirrors. She was a rational person. A successful woman. A creator. An artist.
So why did everything feel like it was slipping?
The Call That Changes Everything
At exactly 10:03 a.m., her phone rang.
It was an unfamiliar number.
She almost didn't answer.
But something made her pick it up anyway.
"Hello?"
"Ms. Elowen?" A crisp, feminine voice came through the line. "This is Marla Voss from Luminary Studios."
Sera blinked.
Luminary Studios.
One of the most exclusive and secretive creative agencies in the world. Known for groundbreaking campaigns that blurred the lines between virtual reality, fashion, and storytelling. Their projects were rare, their clients handpicked, and their budgets limitless.
They didn't call people.
People begged them for meetings.
"Yes," she said carefully. "That's me."
"We've been following your work for some time," Marla continued. "We believe you might be the perfect fit for our upcoming project. We'd like to invite you in for a consultation this afternoon."
Sera hesitated.
There was something about the way the woman spoke—measured, precise, just short of demanding.
"What kind of project?" she asked.
"It's confidential until we meet. But I can tell you this: it involves a full immersion experience. One that will challenge your perception of identity, reality, and creation itself."
Sera frowned.
"That sounds… vague."
Marla chuckled softly. "Intentionally so. But if you accept the invitation, I promise you'll understand why."
Sera looked around the apartment.
She had nothing pressing today. Her inbox was empty. Her schedule was free.
And honestly, after what had happened with Kael and the photo that disappeared into thin air, she needed distraction.
"I'll come," she said finally.
"Excellent," Marla replied. "We'll send a car for you at 2:00 p.m."
The line went dead before Sera could ask another question.
She stared at the phone in her hand.
What the hell had she just agreed to?
Into the Unknown
At precisely 2:00 p.m., a sleek black vehicle pulled up outside her building.
The driver was silent, polite, and dressed in a uniform that bore no insignia—just a simple gray suit and gloves. He opened the door for her without speaking.
She got in.
The ride was smooth, fast, and eerily quiet. The windows were tinted so dark she couldn't see out, and the music playing was ambient—soft, layered tones that felt more like meditation than entertainment.
After nearly forty minutes of driving through what she assumed was the city, the car stopped.
She stepped out.
They were in an industrial district, surrounded by high-rise buildings that looked abandoned. Except one.
A single structure stood out—a modernist cube of glass and steel, with no signage or entrance visible from the street.
Two men in identical suits approached her.
"Ms. Elowen," one of them said. "Welcome to Luminary Studios."
He gestured for her to follow.
She walked through a set of automatic doors that slid open soundlessly.
Inside, the space was unlike anything she had ever seen.
White walls stretched endlessly in all directions, broken only by floating panels of light and holographic displays that shifted between images, text, and abstract patterns. There were no desks, no chairs, no clutter. Just pristine surfaces and the faint hum of technology running beneath the surface.
A woman waited at the center of the room.
Tall, elegant, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that seemed too knowing.
"Welcome," she said. "I'm Dr. Liora Venn. Creative Director of Project Echo."
Sera extended her hand. "Sera Elowen."
Dr. Venn didn't shake it.
Instead, she studied Sera for a long moment.
Then she smiled.
"You've already begun seeing things, haven't you?"
Sera stiffened.
"What do you mean?"
"The mirror," Dr. Venn said simply. "The dreams. The feeling of being watched."
Sera swallowed.
"How do you know that?"
"We know because we created the conditions for it to happen."
Sera took a step back.
"I think I'd like to leave."
Dr. Venn held up a hand.
"Before you go, let me show you something."
She gestured toward one of the floating panels.
The image changed.
It showed a woman.
Sera.
Except she was standing in front of the same house from the photo Kael had given her.
Only now, she was moving.
Walking forward.
Smiling.
Then the image blinked.
And the woman in the video said:
"You finally found me."
Echoes of Herself
Sera stumbled backward.
"No," she whispered.
"That's impossible."
Dr. Venn tilted her head. "Is it?"
Sera shook her head. "That was a dream. Or a hallucination. Or—"
"A memory," Dr. Venn interrupted gently. "From another version of yourself."
Sera's breath hitched.
"This isn't real."
"It is," Dr. Venn said. "And you're not just a photographer anymore, Ms. Elowen. You're the subject of a phenomenon we've been tracking for years."
Sera's hands clenched into fists.
"I don't want any part of this."
Dr. Venn stepped closer.
"You don't have a choice."
Sera turned to leave.
But the doors had sealed shut.
"I'm not going to hurt you," Dr. Venn said. "We need you. You're the key to understanding how consciousness fractures across realities. And we believe you're the only one who can help us bridge the gap."
Sera turned sharply.
"What does that even mean?"
Dr. Venn's expression softened.
"It means that somewhere, out there, other versions of you are reaching for this one. Trying to communicate. Trying to merge."
"And what happens if they succeed?"
Dr. Venn's silence was answer enough.
Sera backed away.
"I'm leaving."
The woman nodded slightly.
"Very well."
The doors opened.
Sera walked out without looking back.
Back to the Mirror
By the time she returned home, the sky had darkened again.
She locked the door behind her and stood still in the center of the room.
Everything felt heavier.
Like the walls were closing in.
She walked toward the mirror.
And this time, when she looked at her reflection—
—it smiled back.
Not the slow, familiar curve of her lips she knew so well.
No.
This smile was different.
Colder.
Knowing.
Possessive.
Sera took a step back.
The reflection stayed.
Still smiling.
She reached out a trembling hand.
The mirror rippled.
Like water.
She gasped and yanked her hand back.
The ripple faded.
The reflection returned to normal.
Or so it seemed.
She turned away quickly, walking toward the kitchen.
She needed something real.
Something solid.
She poured herself a glass of wine.
Her hands were shaking.
As she lifted the glass to her lips, she heard it.
A whisper.
Behind her.
Soft.
Familiar.
"Don't run from me."
She spun around.
The room was empty.
But in the mirror across the living area—
—she was still watching.
The Note
Later that night, unable to sleep, Sera wandered the apartment aimlessly.
She checked every drawer, every cabinet, every corner of the space.
Looking for something.
She didn't know what.
Until she found it.
A small piece of paper tucked between the pages of her poetry journal.
She hadn't written it.
But the handwriting was unmistakably hers.
"You promised me forever."
Beneath it, a symbol.
A spiral, drawn in looping strokes.
Exactly like the one Kael wore on his ring.
She dropped the paper.
It fluttered to the floor like a leaf caught in wind.
And then she heard it again.
The whisper.
Closer this time.
"Sera…"
She turned.
No one was there.
But the mirror in the hallway was cracked.
Straight down the middle.