WHISPERS OF THE OBSIDIAN MIRROR

tance** of *Whispers

er 1: The I

nches. The further Kira Langley drove, the more her cell signal faded, until even the familiar hum of digital life disappeared into static silence. The car's

stone arch, eyeing her like a sentinel. She tightened her grip on the s

metallic. She grabbed her backpack, slung it over one shoulder, and approached the gate. It

n't explained much, only that Evelyn left everything to her "sole remaining bloodline." That was Kira.

till shaped like a roaring lion. Kira hesitated, then pressed the key int

rough stained glass windows. The grand foyer yawned before her, a sweeping staircase splitting the space with regal disdain. Portraits lined the walls-ster

oom had the kind of beauty found in forgotten places: a dusty grand piano, l

glass with her fingers, tracing the image as memories stirred. Her grandmother had once held

startl

d. No one

, her hand grazing the banister, which was smoother than expected. Halfway up, her foot caught on a c

rdrobes filled with moth-eaten dresses, bookshelves packed

nearby dresser matched the lock. Inside were letters-dozens of them-tied in twine and addressed to someone named Elias

s. She made her way to the attic, drawn by a strange pull in her chest. The door groaned ope

st. The seams were too clean. She pressed her fingers along the edges until something clicked

obsidian stone in the cen

ted-then t

icked open

tood a towering mirror, its frame wrought from dark wood twisted into almost serpenti

utline shimmered there, but not her face.

tepped

r breath visible. The silenc

hing moved

ection-or something that looked like her-t

ira h

slammed the door shut, and sho

lt colder no