The village library stood like a quiet guardian in the heart of the village, its stone walls weathered and silent, filled with books that whispered of forgotten lives and untold histories. Leela always felt a thrill of possibility stepping inside its doors, as if every shelf held a new journey waiting for her to discover.
On her first day as the official librarian, she took a deep breath, letting the scent of old paper and wood polish ground her. She’d waited years for this role, apprenticing under Mr. Vaidya, the old librarian, until his unexpected passing the month before. The townsfolk were all kind, offering their condolences and welcoming her to her new post, but their eyes flickered with something else—a shadowed hesitation—as they talked to her.
Most villagers avoided discussing it outright, but Leela had overheard enough whispers to know that her beloved library held a secret. That secret sat at the very top of the library, tucked away in an attic room that remained locked for reasons no one could quite explain. Mr. Vaidya had never allowed her to go up there, only once muttering about "the dangers of curiosity" when she’d asked about the attic.
Now, alone and in charge, Leela held the key to that forbidden room, and her fingers itched with curiosity. She’d promised herself she’d take it slow, ease into her new duties. But every evening, as the shadows grew long and the silence of the library deepened, she found herself gazing up the staircase toward the attic door.
---
That evening, after the last visitor had left and the village streetlights flickered to life, Leela found herself alone in the library. The only sounds were the faint creaks of the wooden floor beneath her feet and the occasional rustle of wind slipping through cracks in the stone walls.
Leela’s gaze wandered back to the attic door, just visible at the top of the staircase. It loomed like a dark eye, beckoning her to uncover its secrets. She tried distracting herself by arranging a new display of poetry books, but the pull of the attic was relentless.
Finally, she gave in. Retrieving the heavy brass key from her desk drawer, she held it tightly, as if it might escape her grip. With each step up the narrow staircase, the air seemed to grow heavier, and a faint chill prickled her skin.
At the top of the stairs, she paused, key in hand, staring at the ornate lock on the attic door. It was an old, intricate design—far too ornate for such a small library—and its surface bore strange, swirling patterns that looked almost like vines or veins.
Sliding the key into the lock, Leela turned it slowly. The click echoed sharply in the silence, sending a shiver down her spine. She hesitated, her heartbeat loud in her ears, before pushing the door open.
The attic smelled of dust and time, a stagnant air that had been undisturbed for years. Pale moonlight filtered through a small, round window, casting long shadows across the cluttered space. Stacks of old books, faded paintings, and antique furniture lay scattered about, covered in thick sheets and cobwebs.
And there, at the far end of the room, stood the mirror.
Leela froze. Even from a distance, it was mesmerizing. Its frame was carved from dark wood, adorned with intricate patterns that seemed to shift and shimmer in the faint light. The surface of the mirror was strangely clean, as if untouched by the years that had cloaked the rest of the attic in dust.
She approached it cautiously, her footsteps muffled by the layer of dust on the floor. The closer she got, the more details emerged in the carvings—flowers, faces, and twisting vines, all blending together in an otherworldly dance. The mirror's glass reflected her dim surroundings perfectly, but there was something odd about the way it caught the light, as if it held a depth beyond its surface.
Leela reached out, her fingers trembling slightly, and brushed against the frame. A sudden, cold shock jolted through her hand, and she stumbled back, gasping. The mirror shimmered, the surface rippling like water before going still again.
Her breath caught. “What are you?” she whispered.
---
Leela's heart hammered in her chest, her pulse racing with a mix of fear and fascination. She took a shaky step forward, drawn once again to the mirror’s shimmering surface. This time, her reflection seemed different. Her own eyes stared back, wide and questioning, but the background behind her in the mirror wasn't the cluttered attic anymore. Instead, it showed a shadowy, endless corridor lined with doors that stretched as far as she could see.
She blinked, but the image didn’t change. A cold knot formed in her stomach as she extended her hand again. As her fingers brushed the glass, a familiar sensation—a strange, pulling energy—seemed to tug at her, urging her to step forward.
Before she could think to stop herself, Leela placed her palm flat against the surface of the mirror. The glass was cool to the touch, but then, it softened under her hand, almost like water. Her hand slipped through.
A sharp gasp escaped her lips as the mirror’s surface pulled her in completely, and she was plunged into darkness.
---
When she opened her eyes, she found herself standing in the endless corridor she had seen in the mirror. Dim lanterns lined the walls, casting a ghostly glow that flickered and danced with every breath of air. The air was thick, filled with the faint scent of lavender and something else—something bitter and metallic.
She turned slowly, trying to orient herself, but there was nothing familiar here. The walls were lined with doorways, each one different from the next. Some were made of dark wood with intricate carvings, while others were simple and plain, painted in faded colors. Each door seemed to call to her, whispering faintly in a language she couldn’t quite understand.
Leela approached the nearest door, her fingertips grazing the cool wood. As she touched it, a memory flashed in her mind—her childhood home, the warm glow of the kitchen, her mother’s laughter ringing in her ears. The memory vanished as quickly as it had come, leaving her breathless and trembling.
“This place…” she whispered, a chill crawling up her spine. “It’s… it’s holding memories.”
With newfound resolve, she moved down the corridor, feeling drawn to a particular door at the far end. It was an ornate door, painted in deep shades of crimson, with swirling patterns that seemed to shift under her gaze. She knew, instinctively, that whatever lay behind this door would hold answers.
She gripped the handle and, with a deep breath, pushed it open.
---
Inside was a room she recognized—a small, cozy study with shelves filled with books and an old, worn armchair by the window. It was her grandfather’s study, a room she hadn’t seen since she was a child. She felt a lump form in her throat as memories of her grandfather flooded back to her—his gentle voice, the way he used to tell her stories about brave heroes and magical worlds.
But something was wrong. A shadowy figure sat in the armchair, its form hazy and indistinct. It watched her with hollow eyes, as if waiting for her to speak.
Leela took a hesitant step forward. “Grandfather?” she asked, her voice trembling.
The figure tilted its head, and for a moment, she thought it might answer. But then it began to speak—not in her grandfather’s voice, but in a cold, echoing tone that sent shivers down her spine.
“You seek the truth, do you?” it whispered, its voice barely more than a breath. “The mirror has kept it hidden… and now it calls to you, the last keeper.”
Leela’s eyes widened. “The last keeper…? What do you mean?”
The figure’s form flickered, its shape shifting and distorting. “You are drawn to the mirror because of the blood that binds you. Your family… they were the first keepers. The mirror holds their dreams… and their fears.
”As the words sank in, a sharp realization struck her. Her family—her grandfather, her mother—had always kept secrets, warnings about curiosity and dangers untold. But they had never told her why.
“What… what happened to them?” she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
The figure’s hollow gaze bore into her. “They became a part of the mirror. Just as you may, should you fail to understand its curse.
”A cold dread settled over her. “But… what does it want?”The figure stretched out a shadowy hand, pointing back toward the corridor. “The mirror has taken fragments of the past, holding them like treasures. Memories, dreams, fears… and it waits for a keeper to bind them.”
Leela backed away, the reality of the mirror’s power settling over her. This wasn’t just a relic of the past—it was alive, a keeper of her family’s history, and perhaps her own fate.
---
The shadowy figure faded, leaving Leela alone in her grandfather’s study. She stared at the empty armchair, her thoughts tangled with questions and fear. If the mirror truly held pieces of her family’s past, then somewhere in this labyrinth lay the secrets she had been searching for. But the thought that her family was bound to this place chilled her to the core.
She stepped back into the corridor, where the rows of doors stretched endlessly before her. Each one seemed to hum with an invisible energy, calling out to her in a strange and familiar way. She knew that each door would open onto another memory, a piece of her family’s story hidden within the depths of the mirror. And she knew, somehow, that she had to see them all if she wanted to escape.
Taking a steadying breath, Leela walked to the next door. It was a simple wooden door, with faded blue paint and a brass doorknob that felt cold in her hand. She turned it slowly, stepping inside.
---
The room she entered was small and dimly lit, with a narrow bed, a worn dresser, and a window that looked out onto a cloudy night sky. Leela’s heart tightened as she recognized the room—it was her mother’s bedroom from their old house. She had only a few memories of the place, but each one was tinged with a sense of warmth and safety.
On the bed sat a young girl, no older than five, clutching a small, hand-sewn doll. Her long hair was braided, and her face bore a look of worry far too mature for a child. Leela’s breath caught as she realized the girl was herself, lost in a memory she’d almost forgotten.
The young Leela looked up, her eyes meeting those of her older self. But instead of reacting with fear or surprise, the child simply watched her, as if expecting her to be there.
“They used to say the mirror would keep us safe,” the child whispered, her voice barely audible. “That as long as we stayed away from it, we would be okay.
”Leela knelt beside her younger self, feeling a strange mixture of sadness and curiosity. “Who told you that?” she asked softly.
The child looked away, clutching the doll tighter. “Grandfather did. He said the mirror was like a net for dreams. But he warned that if we stared too long, it would start to take parts of us with it.”
A chill ran through Leela as she remembered fragments of her grandfather’s stories. She had always thought they were fairy tales, cautionary stories about curiosity and caution. But now, standing in this place, she understood there had been more truth to his words than she’d realized.
“Is that why you’re here?” the child asked, looking up at her with wide, questioning eyes. “To take back what it took?”
The question lingered in the air, heavy with meaning. She didn’t know how to answer. Was she here to retrieve lost dreams, to understand the past, or simply to escape? All she knew was that each memory brought her closer to something hidden within herself—a truth she was beginning to fear.
Before she could respond, the room started to fade, dissolving like mist around her. She felt a familiar tug, pulling her back into the corridor.
---
Leela stumbled, catching herself against the wall as the door to her mother’s bedroom vanished. She steadied herself, heart pounding. Each door, each memory, was peeling back layers of her past, showing her pieces she hadn’t fully understood before. But she was no closer to finding a way out.
Another door, this one painted in deep green with silver etchings, caught her eye. She hesitated, sensing an even darker energy behind it, but curiosity won out. She opened it and stepped through.
This time, she found herself in a forest clearing, the moonlight filtering through the trees. Shadows danced across the ground, and the air was thick with a sense of foreboding. In the center of the clearing stood her grandfather, his back to her, holding something small and dark in his hands.
“Grandfather?” she called out, her voice wavering.
He turned slowly, his face shadowed but his eyes clear and sharp. “Ah, Leela. I wondered when you would find your way here.
”She took a step closer, her pulse quickening. “What is this place? What are you holding?”He lifted the object, revealing a small, cracked mirror—a miniature replica of the one in the attic. “This mirror is only a fragment of the one you touched. It holds just a sliver of its power, but even a sliver is enough to trap dreams.
”She stared at the broken mirror, feeling its pull, its hunger. “Why… why did you keep it? Why did you warn me away?”
Her grandfather’s face softened, a look of regret flickering in his eyes. “I thought I could protect you. I thought I could keep you from the curse that bound our family. But the mirror… it chooses. It called to you, just as it called to me.
”Leela’s hands trembled. “So you were a keeper too?”
He nodded slowly. “Yes, and so was your mother. Each generation has had its keeper, someone drawn to the mirror and bound by its secrets. But with each keeper, the mirror grows stronger, hungrier. I tried to warn you, Leela, but some fates cannot be changed".
The truth settled over her like a weight. This wasn’t just a family curse—it was her inheritance, a role passed down through generations. She was the last keeper, and the mirror had been waiting for her.
“Is there a way to break it?” she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.Her grandfather’s gaze was somber. “Only by facing what lies within it. The mirror feeds on dreams, yes, but it also devours fears. It thrives on what we hide from ourselves. To escape, you must confront what it holds. Only then will it release you.
”Leela took a steadying breath, feeling a new resolve. She had come this far; she would not turn back now. She nodded, and as she did, her grandfather’s form began to fade, leaving her alone in the forest.
---
Back in the corridor, Leela knew what she had to do. The final door—a massive, ancient one covered in twisting vines and symbols—stood before her, waiting. She approached it, heart racing but resolute, and placed her hand on the handle.The door opened with a low creak, and she stepped through, ready to face the mirror’s final challenge.
---
Leela stepped through the ancient door, her breath shallow, her pulse racing. The room she entered was dark, so dark it felt as though the walls themselves were closing in around her. In the center of the room stood the mirror, more imposing than ever, its dark surface gleaming like obsidian. But this time, there was no gentle pull. The air was heavy with tension, the energy palpable, as if the mirror was waiting for her, eager to exact its final test.
She hesitated for a fraction of a second, but then the weight of her family’s secrets and the burden of her fate pushed her forward. She stepped toward the mirror, her footsteps echoing loudly in the silence. As her reflection stared back at her, it seemed to distort—her eyes grew wider, her face more haggard, as if the mirror itself was feeding on her fear.
This wasn’t just a mirror—it was a living entity, a prison for every unspoken truth, every repressed emotion. And it was ready to consume her.
She raised her hand and touched the glass. The moment her fingers made contact, the mirror exploded in a burst of light and sound, the air around her crackling with electricity. Her body was pulled forward, sucked into the mirror with violent force.
---
The world around her twisted, shifting like a vortex. Her surroundings blurred as she felt herself falling, spinning through time and space, until—thud—she landed hard on the cold, stone floor.
Dazed, Leela slowly pushed herself up. She was no longer in the room with the mirror. She stood in a dark, cavernous space, the air thick with an oppressive energy. The walls were slick and wet, dripping with shadows that seemed to pulse and move of their own accord.
A figure stood ahead of her, its back to her, bathed in a dim, flickering light. It was tall, cloaked in black, its face hidden beneath a hood. The figure turned slowly, and Leela’s heart stopped. It wasn’t a stranger.
It was her.
Her reflection. Or was it?
The figure smiled, and the expression was twisted, mocking. “I’ve been waiting for you, Leela,” the figure whispered, its voice a hollow, distorted version of her own. “It’s time for you to face what you’ve been running from.”
Before she could react, the room around her began to change. The floor beneath her feet crumbled, revealing a vast chasm, the air filled with the smell of burning ash. The figure reached out, and in a blink, the shadows surged toward her, wrapping around her body, squeezing the air from her lungs.
“You think you can escape?” her doppelgänger hissed, stepping forward. “You are the mirror’s keeper now. It is part of you—its hunger is your hunger. Its fear, your fear.”
Leela struggled against the shadows, her mind racing. This wasn’t just a test of strength—it was a fight for her soul. The mirror had always been with her, feeding on her doubts, her insecurities, her fears. But now, it was trying to claim her entirely.
“No!” Leela screamed, summoning every ounce of willpower she had. “I am not you. I am not this!”
Her doppelgänger laughed, a sound like cracking glass. “You are this, Leela. You’ve always been. You’ve hidden from it, but it’s been feeding on you, growing stronger every day.”
Leela’s vision blurred with the flood of emotions—fear, rage, doubt. But then something shifted inside her. The years of secrets, of warnings, of buried memories, clicked into place. She understood. The mirror was a reflection of everything she had avoided, everything she had feared facing. And if she didn’t confront it now, if she didn’t take control, it would consume her.
Her doppelgänger raised its hands, shadows swirling violently. “This is your end,” it whispered.
With a surge of defiance, Leela closed her eyes and reached into the darkness within herself. She had never been this powerful, this alive, but in this moment, she felt a strength coursing through her. The mirror’s grip was strong, but not stronger than her will.
“I choose to face you,” she said, her voice steady. “I choose myself.”
The shadows recoiled, shrieking in pain as they burned away in a burst of light. Her doppelgänger screeched, its form beginning to break apart, dissolving into the air like smoke. But before it vanished, it whispered, “You cannot escape your fate.”
In that final instant, Leela felt the ground beneath her feet crack open. She fell, the chasm widening, but she didn’t panic. Instead, she focused. She focused on the truth she had just accepted—that she was no longer a victim of her past or her fears. She was the keeper of her own destiny.
With one last breath, she leaped into the abyss, and the world shattered around her.
---
Leela awoke with a jolt, gasping for air. She was lying on the cold floor of the attic, the mirror now nothing more than a faded relic in the corner. The oppressive weight was gone—the mirror no longer held its sway over her. She was free.
Her body ached, and the remnants of the experience still lingered, but she knew she had won. She had faced herself and overcome the darkest parts of her soul. The curse was broken.
As she stood, looking at the shattered remains of the mirror, a calm understanding washed over her. The mirror had been more than just an object. It had been a trial, a test of everything she was—her fears, her strength, her resolve. And now, she was free to write her own story.
With one final glance at the broken glass, Leela turned
away, stepping into the future with her head held high.
---THE END---
