The first time Elara saw the mirror, it was in an abandoned antique shop on the edge of town. The shop had been closed for years, its windows fogged with dust and its door creaking in the wind like a dying breath. She had no reason to be there—just a strange pull, as if the building itself were calling her. When she stepped inside, the air was thick with the scent of old wood and something else, something metallic and faintly sweet. The shop was dark, save for a single flickering bulb above the counter. Behind it stood a large, ornate mirror, framed in blackened silver and etched with symbols that seemed to shift when she looked too closely. Elara approached slowly, her boots crunching on the broken glass of a shattered display case. She reached out, her fingers brushing the cold surface, and for a moment, the room felt still. Then, without warning, the mirror rippled like water. Inside, she saw a version of herself standing in the same spot, but the room behind her was different. The walls were painted a deep blue, and the floor was covered in red tiles that glowed faintly underfoot. The mirror image smiled, then turned and walked away, disappearing through a door that wasn’t there. Elara gasped, stepping back. The mirror returned to normal, but the feeling lingered. Over the next few weeks, Elara began visiting the shop regularly. Each time, the mirror showed her glimpses of another world—one where everything was slightly off, like a dream just before waking. In one vision, she saw a city built entirely of glass, where people moved like shadows and spoke in whispers. In another, she saw a forest of trees with eyes, their branches swaying in unison. The more she watched, the more she felt drawn to these places, as if they were waiting for her. One night, she decided to try something new. Instead of just watching, she reached into the mirror, her hand passing through the surface as if it were made of smoke. A rush of cold air hit her, and when she opened her eyes, she was standing in the blue-walled room. The air smelled different here—earthy, alive. She turned and saw the same mirror behind her, but now it reflected the real world, not the other one. She wandered the strange city, following the glow of the red tiles. People moved past her without seeing her, their faces blank, their voices silent. She tried to speak, but her words didn’t come out. It was as if she existed in a space between worlds, neither fully present nor absent. Days passed, or maybe hours—she couldn’t tell. The mirror remained behind her, always just out of reach. She began to notice small details: the way the light changed at certain times of day, the way the trees whispered when no one was listening. It was beautiful, but also lonely. She longed to return home, but every time she tried to step through the mirror, it would shimmer and refuse to let her pass. One evening, she found a journal on a table in the blue room. Its pages were filled with her handwriting, but the entries were written in a language she didn’t recognize. As she read, the words began to shift, forming sentences in English. The last entry said: “I am not sure if I am returning or leaving. The mirror is not what it seems.” She closed the journal and looked at the mirror again. This time, it was empty. No reflection, no glimpse of the other world. Just a smooth, black surface. She reached out, and this time, her hand went through without resistance. But instead of the blue room, she found herself back in the dusty shop, the mirror now cracked down the middle. She sat on the floor, breathing heavily. The shop was silent, the bulb above the counter now dead. She had no idea how long she had been gone. Had she truly traveled to another world, or had it all been a dream? The thought unsettled her. As she left the shop, the wind picked up, carrying with it a whisper that sounded like her own voice. She stopped, turning slowly. The mirror was gone now, but the feeling remained—that she had only just begun to understand what lay beyond. And somewhere, in a world she could not see, the mirror was still waiting.