The letter felt heavier than paper had any right to be.
Elena sat at her desk, heart pounding, eyes locked on her name written in that haunting, old-fashioned script. The wax seal glinted dark crimson, stamped with a sigil she didn't recognize—two interlocking rings surrounded by flame.
It hadn't been there before.
Not in the attic.
Not in her life.
"When the veil begins to lift…"
She broke the seal.
The letter read:
My Dearest Elena,
If you're reading this, then the curse has stirred again. I hoped it wouldn't touch your lifetime, but fate rarely asks permission from love or blood.
You are not just my granddaughter.You are her reflection.
You have walked these halls before.You have worn red.You have loved him… and paid the price.
Julian Blackthorne is not a man of this world. Not anymore.He was bound to the mirror when you made your choice—and your vow was broken.
He waits for you still.But this time, the mirror hungers.And it does not want your love…It wants your soul.
Do not trust what you see.Do not speak his name aloud after midnight.
And whatever happens… never let the mirror see you bleed.
—Eleanor
Elena stared at the words, fingers going cold.
She didn't understand half of it. But her chest ached, as if some deep truth had been carved into her ribs and this letter had simply traced the lines.
"You have loved him before…"
Then why couldn't she remember?
A sharp crack echoed from upstairs.
Her head jerked toward the ceiling.
The mirror.
She rushed back to her room. The air felt different—tense, electric. Her hands trembled as she opened the door.
The mirror's crack had spread wider… but that wasn't what made her blood run cold.
There was something written in the glass now—scrawled in a language she didn't recognize. Letters that shimmered, then vanished like smoke.
And on the floor, just below the mirror's base, was a single drop of red.
Blood.
But Elena hadn't been bleeding.
She backed away.
Too fast.
Her heel caught the edge of her rug, and she stumbled, crashing against the side table. The letter slipped from her hands.
And then—
From the mirror, she heard a sound.
A voice.
Low. Velvet. Familiar.
"I never wanted this for you, Elena."
Her heart thundered in her chest.
She whispered, "Julian?"
But the mirror had gone still.
Only her reflection stared back.
And it was smiling.
The letter weighed more than paper had any business weighing.
Elena sat at her desk, thudding heart, staring at her name on the page in that eerie, antiquated handwriting. The wax seal shone dark red, stamped with a sigil she didn't know—two rings interlocking around a halo of flame.
It wasn't there before.
Not in the attic.
Not in her existence.
"When the veil begins to lift…"
She cracked the seal.
The letter said:
My Dearest Elena,
If you're reading this, then the curse has awakened again. I hoped it wouldn't reach your lifetime, but fate doesn't usually seek approval from love or blood.
You are more than just my granddaughter.
You are her echo.
You have already walked these halls.
You have already worn red.
You have already loved him… and suffered the price.
Julian Blackthorne is not a man of this world. Not anymore.
He was tied to the mirror when you made your decision—and your promise was broken.
He waits for you again.
But this time, the mirror craves.
And it does not crave your love…
It craves your soul.
Do not believe what you see.
Do not say his name out loud past midnight.
And whatever may befall you… never let the mirror witness you bleed.
—Eleanor
Elena glared at the words, fingers freezing.
She didn't know half of it. But her chest hurt, as if some profound truth had been etched into her ribs and this letter had merely followed the lines.
"You have loved him before…"
Why couldn't she recall?
A loud crack came from upstairs.
Her head snapped toward the ceiling.
The mirror.
She hurried back to her room. The air was different—tight, charged. Her hands shook as she flung open the door.
The crack in the mirror had grown wider… but that wasn't what froze her blood.
There was something etched in the glass now—written in a script she didn't know. Letters that glowed, then disappeared like smoke.
And on the floor, just beneath the base of the mirror, a single red drop.
Blood.
But Elena hadn't been bleeding.
She took a step back.
Too quickly.
Her heel hit the edge of her rug, and she stumbled against the side table. The letter fell from her fingers.
And then—
She heard a noise from the mirror.
A voice.
Low. Velvet. Familiar.
"I never wanted this for you, Elena."
Her heart pounded in her chest.
She breathed softly, "Julian?"
But the mirror remained quiet.
Only her own reflection looked back.
And it was smiling.
(Julian's POV)
Time didn't exist here.
Not really.
Julian wandered the silver-washed corridors of the mirror realm like a ghost pacing the edges of a dream—never quite touching the real, never quite forgotten. Every room was a memory stitched in glass and shadow. Every breathless second replayed echoes of a past life.
A hand once held.
A name once whispered.
A vow once broken.
"Elena…"
Her name tasted like fire and forgiveness.
He had seen her tonight. Not the girl from decades ago—but this Elena. This version. The one with storm-swept eyes and a hesitation in her soul.
She was different.
But she was still her.
Still the girl who had once stood before the mirror with tears on her lashes and a choice in her hands.
And he had let her go.
The mirror trembled beneath his feet now. Cracks veined through his prison like fault lines in his fate. The curse had grown restless, aware of her touch, her presence.
And that letter… Eleanor must have known it would begin again.
"One soul, once broken. One mirror, once bound."
Julian stood before the portal—the thin barrier that still linked their worlds. From the other side, he could sense her thoughts flicker like candlelight.
Doubt. Curiosity. Fear.
But underneath it all… something else.
Recognition.
And maybe—if time hadn't stolen everything—
Hope.
He raised his hand and rested his palm against the cold surface.
The mirror did not reflect him.It reflected her.Only her.
Because his image no longer belonged in her world.
But if she remembered…If she chose him again…
Maybe this time, the mirror would open.
Maybe this time, love wouldn't end in glass and blood.