---
Morning came too quietly.
The world outside had the stillness of a paused video — faint sunlight trying to break through the mist, car horns in the distance, a neighbor yelling at their cat. Everything looked normal, which somehow made it worse.
Kayden sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the mirror again. The word Observer was still faintly carved into the frame. He traced it with his finger — cold, smooth, no raised edges. Like it had been part of the wood all along.
"Great," he muttered. "Either I bought a haunted antique or I'm developing schizophrenia."
The mirror didn't respond, which he took as a win.
He stood, stretched, and shuffled toward the kitchenette — a generous title for a sink and a single gas stove. He made another cup of instant coffee and stared out the window. His mind drifted to the dream. The reflection's voice still lingered in his head, distorted and echoing.
> 'Something on the other side is trying to wake up.'
Wake up? From what?
He shook his head and focused on the coffee. "I seriously need to cut down on caffeine."
His phone buzzed — a text from his landlord this time.
> Rent due tomorrow. No excuses this time.
He sighed, staring at the half-empty sugar jar. "Right. Priorities. Pay rent, avoid being homeless, and maybe exorcise the mirror if time allows."
But when he turned back toward it, the mirror's surface had changed again.
The reflection was still there, but the background behind his reflection… wasn't his room anymore.
It looked like a corridor — long, dark, lined with countless other mirrors stretching into infinity. The lighting flickered, faint and pale, like fluorescent tubes dying out one by one.
Kayden's stomach twisted. "...That wasn't there a second ago."
He stepped closer. The reflection mimicked him, but the background didn't match his real apartment anymore.
And the hum — that low, brain-tingling buzz — was louder now.
He pressed a hand against the glass. Cold. Always cold. But when his fingertips touched the surface, it rippled faintly, like the top of a pond disturbed by a drop.
He froze.
For a full ten seconds, he didn't breathe.
Then, very slowly, he backed away. "Nope. Nope. I am not doing this horror-movie sequence before breakfast."
He grabbed his jacket, intending to step out for some air — but his reflection didn't follow.
Instead, it smiled.
Not a grin. Not a smirk. Just a small, knowing curve of the lips that wasn't his.
Every instinct in Kayden screamed wrong. His heart started pounding like an alarm bell.
Then the lights flickered again. The air pressure in the room dropped — like the oxygen itself was holding its breath.
The reflection tilted its head and mouthed a single word.
> "Listen."
A faint static filled Kayden's ears. Not sound — more like thoughts that weren't his. Half-formed whispers overlapping, sliding across his mind like oil on water. Words, sentences, fragments — all in different tones.
> "He's awake."
"Not yet."
"Find the name."
"No one sees the Observer twice."
Kayden stumbled back, clutching his head. "Get out— get out—"
And then, just as suddenly, it stopped.
Silence. The hum gone. The reflection perfectly normal again.
He stood there, chest heaving, sweat trailing down his neck. The apartment felt too small, too bright.
"…Okay," he whispered. "That's officially not caffeine."
He took his phone, opened the browser, and typed:
> pawn shop mirror strange humming help
The top results were clickbait garbage — "Top 10 Cursed Items Sold Online!" and "How to Tell if Your Antique Is Possessed." Useless. He scrolled down until a small forum link caught his eye:
> The Veiled Eye — Discussion Board for Anomalies & Cognitive Phenomena.
The logo was an abstract eye with static lines across it. He clicked it.
A welcome post read:
> This is a closed community for those who've seen the Unseen. If you can read between lines, you already belong.
"Yeah," Kayden muttered. "That doesn't sound culty at all."
He scrolled through threads — Mirrors as cognitive gateways, Objects that observe back, The Rule of Three Reflections.
Most posts were nonsense. But one, buried deep, made him freeze.
Thread Title: If it hums, it remembers you.
The post was short, written four years ago by a deleted user:
> The mirror chooses its Observer. Once it hums, it's watching. Don't break it. Don't ignore it. And never—
—never look when it stops humming.
The post ended there.
Kayden stared at the screen, pulse hammering. He glanced up.
The mirror was silent.
Completely silent.
"...Oh, you've got to be kidding me."
He inched closer, the air growing heavier with every step. No hum. No ripple. No movement. Just his reflection — pale, breathing, eyes slightly off-center.
He reached for the lamp switch, hesitating. His voice came out low. "If you try anything, I swear I'll—"
A sharp crack split the silence.
A spiderweb of fractures bloomed across the glass — not from outside, but from inside.
Then, a whisper. So faint it brushed his ear like breath.
> "Kayden."
He stumbled backward, eyes wide. The cracks glowed faintly, pulsing once, twice — then faded, leaving the mirror pristine again.
His heartbeat refused to calm down.
"Okay…" he said to no one. "It knows my name now."
He slumped against the wall, dragging a hand down his face. "Perfect. Haunted mirror, talking reflection, rent due tomorrow. My life's really ticking all the boxes."
He closed his eyes, breathing deeply. He didn't notice the faint shimmer crawling up his forearm — a thread of static, flickering briefly beneath his skin before vanishing.
Something had woken up.
And it had chosen him.
---
To be continued…