---
Kayden didn't know what unnerved him more — the fact that this stranger somehow knew about his mirror, or that she said it so casually, like it was as ordinary as asking about the weather.
Seren sat across from him in the café, sipping her coffee as if the universe wasn't busy collapsing behind her eyes. Her calmness made the whole thing feel real.
"Alright," Kayden said finally. "You've got my attention. Who exactly are you?"
She tilted her head slightly, the light catching a faint shimmer under her skin — blue lines running like veins, too symmetrical to be natural. "Let's say I work with a department that handles unusual cognitive incidents."
"Government?"
"Something like that," she replied. "We're not in the system, but the system looks the other way."
Kayden frowned. "So what, you're some secret agent for ghost mirrors?"
Her lips twitched. "Not ghosts. Echoes."
He blinked. "Echoes?"
"Residual consciousness," she said, voice low. "When perception becomes unstable, certain objects can start resonating with human thought. They reflect not just images, but meanings. That's what we call an echo."
Kayden stared at her, trying to decide if she was serious or just clinically insane.
"And my mirror?"
Seren leaned forward slightly. "Your mirror is older than any record we have. The last time an artifact like that surfaced, it ended in a city-wide blackout and forty-seven people forgetting their own names."
"That's… oddly specific."
She didn't laugh. "You said it hums. That means it's active."
"Active?"
"Listening," she said. "Observing."
He rubbed his temple. "Okay, so I have an ancient mirror that likes to eavesdrop. What am I supposed to do, file a noise complaint?"
"Don't joke," Seren said softly. "If it chose you, it's because you've already touched its frequency. It recognizes you."
The way she said it made his stomach tighten.
"Recognizes me how?"
"Mirrors don't see faces," she said. "They see truths."
Kayden exhaled slowly, looking down at his trembling hand. "Well, that's just great. My truth apparently involves going insane."
Seren reached into her coat and pulled out a small device — a silver disk etched with thin concentric rings. She set it on the table. "This will let me measure the static field around you."
"Static field?"
She pressed a button. The rings began to spin, emitting a faint hum. Kayden flinched at the sound — because it was the same hum his mirror made.
The disk pulsed once, twice, and a small flicker of blue light appeared above it, forming a symbol: a circle bisected by a jagged line.
Seren's face hardened. "Yeah," she murmured. "Type O signature. Observer class confirmed."
He blinked. "Can we maybe switch to English?"
"You're not infected," she said slowly. "You're linked. The mirror doesn't possess people. It… connects to them. You've become its point of contact."
Kayden leaned back, voice rising. "You're saying I'm Wi-Fi for a haunted object?"
"Closer to a radio tower," Seren said. "And the signal's getting stronger."
He tried to laugh, but it came out shaky. "That's absurd."
"Maybe," she said, pocketing the device. "But absurdity doesn't stop being real just because you laugh at it."
They sat in silence for a moment. The café's chatter filled the space — soft laughter, the hiss of milk frothing, the clink of cups. Ordinary sounds that felt suddenly distant.
Finally, Kayden asked, "So what do I do?"
Seren finished her coffee and stood. "Stay alive. And whatever happens, don't look into the mirror when it stops humming again."
He frowned. "Why?"
She hesitated — just for a heartbeat. Then she said, "Because that's when it looks through you."
Before he could ask more, she was gone — coat fluttering as she stepped into the crowded street.
---
Kayden sat there for a long time, staring at the doorway she'd left through.
"Stay alive," he muttered. "Not exactly a comforting checklist."
He gathered his things and stepped out. The sky was heavy with clouds again, that same dull, metallic smell of rain hanging in the air. He shoved his hands in his pockets and started walking home.
He didn't notice the reflection in a puddle as he passed.
It didn't move with him.
---
Somewhere else — underground, dimly lit — Seren walked through a corridor lined with humming machines. The air vibrated faintly, like the world was breathing too fast.
A man waited at the end of the hall, tall, suited, eyes sharp enough to cut glass. His nameplate read: Director Orin Hale.
"Report," he said without looking up from the holographic screen in front of him.
"Confirmed Observer case," Seren said. "Male, early twenties, minimal awareness of the phenomenon. The mirror is fully active."
The Director's fingers stilled. "Location?"
"Downtown. Near Sector Seventeen."
He exhaled through his nose. "We sealed that district years ago. Nothing was supposed to cross the barrier."
"It didn't," Seren said quietly. "It woke up."
Hale turned to her, his expression unreadable. "And the boy?"
She hesitated. "Still intact. For now."
"Good," Hale said, turning back to his screen. "Then keep him that way. The last thing we need is another resonance breach."
As she turned to leave, his voice stopped her.
"Agent Vale."
She looked back.
"If the mirror starts whispering his name again," Hale said, "you know the protocol."
Her jaw tightened. "I do."
"Then don't hesitate."
She didn't answer. Just walked away, her reflection in the polished floor staring back a heartbeat too late.
---
That night, back in his apartment, Kayden stood in front of the mirror again.
It was humming. Low, constant, almost soothing now.
He didn't touch it. Didn't speak.
He just watched.
And somewhere beneath the glass — deep, deep down — something watched back.
---
To be continued…