"Yes?"
He smiled faintly, a rare softness in his otherwise guarded expression.
"Don't look away from your reflection. Some truths are only visible there."
As he left, Emily turned back to the shard. The glow pulsed once more, almost inviting her closer. She leaned in, her eyes meeting the faint red mark.
A whisper echoed in her mind — barely audible, like a thread of sound in the dark:
> "I see you… and I'm waiting."
Her fingers tightened around the shard.
Outside, the wind whispered through the academy halls. Somewhere in the distance, a mirror cracked — slow, deliberate, and hungry.
Emily Hart smiled softly. This game had only just begun.
The morning sun filtered through the academy windows, painting the hallways in muted gold. Emily walked alone, her steps measured and deliberate. Her uniform was crisp, her expression calm — almost serene — but beneath it, a storm brewed.
The students' whispers followed her like shadows.
> "Have you noticed how she always… knows things?"
"Yeah, and she barely talks to anyone. Creepy, honestly."
"I heard she survived… something. Something bad."
Emily's lips curved faintly. Rumors were nothing new, and she had learned long ago that fear often disguised respect.
---
Her first class was Literature, where she took her seat in the middle row. A group of students near the back glanced nervously in her direction. A small paper slipped from one of their desks. Curious, Emily picked it up later — the words read:
> "Watch her. She's not like the rest of us."
Not a threat. An observation.
---
At lunch, Clara appeared, laughing with a group of students. Her eyes immediately landed on Emily.
"Emily!" Clara called brightly, walking over. "You'll sit with us today, right?"
Emily's calm demeanor didn't waver. "I'll sit where I like."
Clara's smile faltered for a split second, just enough for Emily to notice. "You're still so… different."
"I prefer it that way," Emily said softly, sipping from her water bottle.
Some of the other students shifted uncomfortably, sensing the tension between the two. Perry, sitting across the courtyard, observed silently, leaning against a pillar. His gray eyes followed Emily's every movement, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.
---
After classes, Emily found herself in the library, scanning through old tomes about ancient symbols and protective wards. Her finger traced a sketch of a crimson eye mark — identical to the one she had seen on the attacker and the shattered mirror shards.
A soft clearing of a throat made her glance up.
Perry stood in the doorway, hands casually in his pockets. "You're researching," he noted. "I'd say that's a good hobby… if you weren't hunting trouble at the same time."
Emily's eyes met his. "And you're here because?"
"Concern. Observation. Curiosity. Call it what you like," he said, stepping closer. His shadow fell across the table, long and imposing.
"You're still watching," she said quietly.
"Always," he replied simply.
She returned her gaze to the tome, flipping a page. "Then you'll see what I already know."
Perry's smirk deepened. "I doubt that. You're… precise, but you hide a lot."
Emily didn't answer. She had learned the value of silence.