The first time Elara saw the mirror, she thought it was a trick of the light. It stood alone in the corner of the abandoned library, dust swirling in the shafts of sunlight that filtered through the cracked windows. The frame was ornate, carved with symbols she didn’t recognize, and the glass seemed to shimmer just slightly, as if reflecting something unseen. She had been hired to catalog the collection, but this mirror had no record in any of the old ledgers. It was as though it had always been there, waiting. She touched the glass with her fingertips, and for a moment, the room felt colder. The air smelled faintly of rain and iron. When she pulled her hand back, the reflection in the mirror did not move. It remained still, watching her with an expression she couldn’t quite place—neither friendly nor hostile, but aware. A flicker of movement caught her eye, and when she turned, nothing was there. But the mirror still reflected her, and something about it felt wrong. Over the next few days, Elara found herself returning to the mirror often. She would stand before it, trying to make sense of the strange sensation that tugged at the edges of her mind. Sometimes, the reflection would shift subtly—her eyes would be darker, or her hair longer, or her clothes different. Other times, the mirror showed a version of the library that wasn’t there. Books stacked in impossible ways, shelves stretching into darkness, shadows moving where no one should be. One night, after the rest of the staff had left, she decided to stay behind. The library was silent except for the creak of floorboards and the occasional whisper of wind through the cracks. She lit a single candle and sat cross-legged on the floor, facing the mirror. As the flame flickered, she noticed something new: a small door, barely visible, hidden in the wall behind the mirror. It was painted the same deep blue as the frame, and its handle was shaped like a key. Elara reached out, hesitating for a moment. Her fingers brushed the surface, and the door opened with a soft click. Beyond it was not another room, but a hallway that stretched endlessly in both directions. The walls were lined with mirrors, each one showing different scenes—some familiar, others alien. In one, she saw herself walking down a street she had never been to. In another, she was speaking to someone who looked exactly like her, but whose voice was not her own. She stepped forward, drawn by curiosity. The air here was thick, almost tangible, and the silence was oppressive. She passed more doors, some open, others closed. One door had a sign that read "No Return." Another had a single word: "Wait." As she moved deeper, the reflections began to change. Some showed her as a child, others as an old woman. Some showed her with people she didn’t know, others with people she had never met. Each reflection carried a different emotion—joy, sorrow, fear, confusion. She realized then that these were not just images, but fragments of lives that had once existed, or perhaps still did. At the end of the corridor, she found a final door. This one was larger, and its handle was warm to the touch. Inside, the room was empty except for a single chair and a mirror that looked exactly like the one in the library. But this mirror showed something different—her face, but with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She approached slowly, and as she did, the mirror’s surface rippled like water. A voice, low and calm, spoke from within. “You have come far. But what do you seek?” Elara swallowed hard. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I just wanted to understand.” The voice chuckled. “Understanding is a dangerous thing. It opens doors that cannot be closed.” Before she could respond, the mirror shattered, and the world around her dissolved into darkness. When she awoke, she was back in the library, the candle extinguished, the mirror now blank. The door behind it was gone, as if it had never been there. She never spoke of what she saw, but she kept coming back to the mirror. Sometimes, when the light hit just right, she could swear she saw a shadow move in the reflection. And sometimes, she wondered if she was looking at herself—or someone else entirely.