So, just as I was starting to convince myself I might lose my mind over old papers and cryptic journals, there was a knock at the door. Not a casual knock either — the kind that rattles your nerves and makes you freeze, wondering who the hell shows up unannounced at this hour, especially considering the rubbish by David I had been reading. Truly I stayed with him long, there was a rage in his eyes thag made me sometimes question his sanity.
I wasn't expecting anyone. No friends, no family, no courier delivering bad news. Just me, my broken mirror, and a secret I wasn't ready to face.
When I opened it, there she was. Mara. I didn't know her name yet, but something about her told me she was no stranger to shadows.
Tall, sharp eyes that seemed to cut right through me, hair pulled back tight like she was always ready for a fight, or maybe a dance — the kind where every step counts.
She didn't waste time. "Adrian," she said, voice low but steady. "You don't know me, but I know who you are. And I know what you're looking for."
I blinked, wondering if the exhaustion was messing with my head. "How do you know my name? And am I looking for something? Adrian, yes that's my name. But I'm sorry I've lost nothing recently except my father David, and so the only thing I've lost is Dad and I know where he is. Sorry lady." I tried to close the door to her face.
She smirked slightly, like she had all the answers but was enjoying watching me scramble. "Because you're the only one who can unravel the truth David left behind. And because the Order doesn't want you to find it."
The word hit me harder than I expected. The Order — from the journal. The secret society Dad had been part of, or maybe trapped in.
"Why are you here?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, but inside I was a mess of questions and caution.
"Because you're in danger," she said. "And because I'm here to help."
That sounded too convenient. Too much like a storybook. But something about her wasn't. There was a weight in her eyes — like she carried a history written in blood and secrets.
She handed me a small envelope. "Open this when you're alone. Inside is the next piece of your puzzle."
I wanted to slam the door and run, but curiosity pulled me back. I nodded slowly.
"Be careful, Adrian. The shadows aren't just stories. They're alive, and they're watching."
Then she was gone, leaving me standing in the dim light of my hallway, clutching an envelope that smelled faintly of old paper and danger.
That night, I opened it. Inside was a single photo, old and creased — a picture of David, my dad, standing next to a man I didn't recognize. Both of them smiling, but the man's eyes were cold, calculating. Underneath, a note: "Trust no one. The past will find you."
I swallowed hard. The stranger in the photo was more than just a face. He was a warning.
And Mara? She was my first real glimpse beyond the mirror — the first person to tell me I was part of something much bigger. Something I hadn't signed up for, but couldn't escape.
The clock ticked past midnight, and I finally sat down to write — not the novel I'd planned, but the story of my own unraveling. Because that's what this was now. My life was a story I needed to tell before it told me what to do.
The way everything had gone that day, was too hard to miss and then I didn't think of the danger, I thought David wanted to give me something he had promised, a story worth listening to.
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