The new girl arrived on a Monday.
Her name was Selene. She wore a silver locket that glowed faintly under sunlight and a coat made of worn fur, even though it was warm outside. Her eyes were dark—not in color, but in depth. Like someone who had watched empires fall and didn't flinch.
And from the moment she stepped into the school gates, the mirrors stopped whispering.
Amara felt it immediately.
Something had shifted.
During homeroom, Selene was introduced with the usual small talk, but students gave her a wide berth. There was something about her—an unspoken rule of distance. She walked like a shadow wrapped in silk.
She sat two rows behind Amara.
And before the bell even rang, Selene leaned forward and whispered: "You're bleeding magic."
Amara froze.
"What did you say?"
Selene's gaze never wavered. "You're infected with mirror residue. It's leaking out of you."
"Who… are you?"
Selene leaned back. "The one sent to clean up your mess."
—
Later that day, Amara found Selene by the old oak near the east wing—where vines covered ancient bricks and no one dared go.
"You know about the mirror-child," Amara said. It wasn't a question.
Selene nodded slowly. "I see everything."
"How?"
"My mother was a Shaman of the High Veil. She died because of people like you."
Amara's throat tightened. "People like me?"
Selene turned, eyes filled with cold fire. "Curious. Arrogant. Willing to touch what should stay buried. Elara was one of you. Now she's gone. And the child she birthed? It's growing stronger by the hour."
Amara tried to speak, but Selene cut her off.
"You don't understand what you've done. That child—it's not just a cursed spirit. It's a gate. A way for old things to crawl back into this world. Things we buried centuries ago."
"But it wasn't my fault—"
"No," Selene said. "But you're still the door."
—
That night, Selene lit incense in the dorm. She ignored the curfew and carved ancient symbols into the floorboards. Her roommate tried to interrupt—until her voice was stolen by a reflection in the window.
Selene muttered a chant, opened her silver locket, and pulled out a tiny glass orb.
"Reveal yourself," she said to the mirror.
And the child responded.
Its face—no longer human—appeared in the glass. Glowing silver, with jagged teeth and no pupils. Its voice, soft and thick with poison, echoed through the room.
"You are too late, daughter of the veil."
Selene didn't blink. "Return to your vessel."
The child smiled. "I've outgrown her. I want the boy now."
And with that, the mirror cracked.
Selene stumbled back. The orb in her hand shattered.
In the distance, a scream echoed through the school.
—
It was Micah.
He'd been found by the janitor again—lying unconscious in the auditorium. But this time, he wasn't alone.
Someone—or something—had carved circles into the floor around him. His skin was ice-cold. His eyes… flickering silver.
When Amara saw him, her knees buckled.
Micah looked at her and whispered, "It's inside."
She pressed her forehead to his, shaking. "I'll save you. I promise."
But Selene's voice rang behind her.
"No. He's already chosen."
—
The headmaster declared a school-wide lockdown the next morning. Too many students had disappeared. Too many mirrors broken. Security cameras showed nothing but static.
Teachers began quitting. Rumors spread.
A witch.
A possession.
A secret pregnancy.
Amara walked the halls with the weight of a thousand lies pressing down on her. Selene followed her everywhere now, claiming she had to watch her—"to see if you turn."
"Turn into what?" Amara asked one night.
Selene stared into her soul. "A mother."
—
Because every night, Amara dreamed she was pregnant.
Her belly growing.
The cries louder.
And the reflection in the mirror whispering: Soon, Mommy. Soon.