That night, he performed the ritual. Candles were arranged in a circle, his reflection visible in the mirror, and a book lay open before him. The wind outside fell silent, as if the world were waiting for him to speak his line.
"I wish… they'd all go away."
Blood touched the glass. The flame of the candles quivered. And then—he saw himself smile. Not in the mirror, but behind it. The mouth of his reflection moved before his own did.
"How delightful," it whispered, "to meet another actor."
The candles flickered out.