The attic air grew colder, a tangible chill that seeped into Elara's bones. The obsidian mirror pulsed with a faint, internal light, the fractured reflection within its depths swirling like a disturbed nebula. The face—her own, yet older, wearier—had vanished, leaving behind only the unsettling sense of a half-remembered dream.
Elara reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing the cold surface of the obsidian. A jolt of energy, sharper than before, shot up her arm, making her gasp. The cracks in the mirror seemed to deepen, as if responding to her touch, and a low hum resonated from within, like the chanting of a forgotten prayer.
Suddenly, a single, clear image materialized in the fractured reflection—a memory, or perhaps a vision. Elara saw herself as a child, no older than seven, standing in a garden bathed in the crimson glow of a setting sun. The garden was unlike any she had ever seen, filled with strange, luminous flowers and trees that seemed to writhe and twist in the twilight.
But it was the figure beside her that caught her attention. A woman, tall and elegant, with hair like spun moonlight and eyes that shone with an otherworldly luminescence. The woman held a small, obsidian shard, its surface mirroring the fractured reflection Elara now saw in the antique mirror. The woman smiled, a sad, knowing smile, and then—the vision shattered.
Elara stumbled back, her breath hitching in her throat. The image was gone, leaving behind only the fractured reflection and the chilling certainty that this was more than just a vision. It was a memory, a fragment of a past she had long forgotten, a past that was somehow connected to the obsidian mirror and the crimson sky that haunted her dreams.
The hum from the mirror intensified, and the cracks seemed to writhe and shift, as if the mirror itself was trying to communicate. Elara felt a pull, an irresistible urge to touch the surface again, to delve deeper into the fragmented memories and unveil the secrets hidden within. But a sense of foreboding held her back. What other truths lay buried beneath the surface? What dangers awaited her in the depths of her own forgotten past?
With a deep breath, Elara steadied herself. Fear warred with curiosity, but the pull of the unknown was too strong to resist. She knew, with a chilling certainty, that she couldn't ignore the call of the obsidian mirror. The past was waiting to be unveiled, and she was ready to face whatever it held.