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Alyhana sat rigidly at the edge of the stool, the smooth wood beneath her legs just as polished as it had been back at the temple. The dressing table in front of her sparkled like it had just been cleaned, not a speck of dust in sight
She stared into the mirror, her reflection was blank.
The walls were the same soft rose color, the embroidered curtains swayed slightly even though the windows were shut.
So how was she here?
Her breath came slow and shallow. She tried not to move too much. Maybe if she stayed still, the illusion would crack on its own. Maybe if she didn't blink, the ghost wouldn't—
A soft voice broke the quiet.
"Alyhana,"
She didn't have to look to know who it was. That voice had been carved into her memory forever and she watched through the mirror as a figure stepped into view. Short curls of dark braided hair, tucked behind one ear just like she used to do.
The breath in her chest twisted.
