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Pine Forest

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The Girl in the Mirror

The basement did not stay silent for long.

The moment the piano stopped, the air changed again.

It felt heavier.

Closer.

As if the darkness between the damp stone walls had taken a step toward them.

Lily could hear the rain above, pounding against the roof and windows in wild bursts, but down in the basement the storm sounded far away, muffled by earth and old stone. What she heard more clearly was Clara’s breathing, fast and shaky. Adam’s nervous shifting. The faint drip... drip... drip of water from somewhere unseen.

And another sound.

A soft scrape.

Like something dragging across the floor upstairs.

Leona turned sharply toward the stairs. “We need to get out of here. Now.”

For once, nobody argued.

Jack moved first, placing himself between Lily and the darkest corner of the basement as they headed back toward the stairs. Roy stayed beside Clara, but he seemed distracted, his eyes occasionally flicking toward the carved names in the floor as if he couldn’t stop looking at them.

Adam noticed too.

“Roy,” he whispered, “buddy, not to be rude, but you’re doing the creepy stare thing.”

Roy blinked. “What?”

“The zoning-out serial-killer stare.”

“Adam,” Clara snapped, though her voice shook, “not helping.”

Adam pressed a hand to his chest. “I am a beacon of emotional support.”

Leona muttered, “You are a walking headache.”

That almost made Lily smile.

Almost.

They climbed the stone steps quickly, their flashlight beams shaking over the walls. Lily was the last one up this time, and just before she reached the top, she glanced back.

The basement below lay in wet darkness, silent and still.

But the carved names on the floor—

for one split second—

looked fresh.

As if they’d been cut that day.

Her breath caught.

“Lily,” Jack said from above, voice urgent. “Come on.”

She tore her eyes away and hurried up.

The trapdoor slammed shut the second her feet hit the floor.

Clara shrieked.

Adam jumped so hard he smacked into an old cabinet. “Why does every door in this house have anger issues?”

Nobody laughed.

The room upstairs seemed darker now, though it was still technically daytime. Rain streaked the filthy windows, turning the world outside into a blur of gray and black pine trunks. Thunder rolled low overhead, close enough to rattle the glass.

“We should try the front door again,” Roy said.

They left the room together and hurried back down the hall, past the watching portraits, toward the grand entryway. The dead flowers in the vase beneath the chandelier had tipped sideways somehow. Lily was sure they’d been upright before.

She didn’t mention it.

Jack tried the front door first.

Locked.

He shoved harder, shoulder hitting wood.

Nothing.

Roy joined him. Together they threw their weight against it, but the old doors did not budge even a little.

“It’s jammed,” Roy muttered.

“It’s not jammed,” Leona said quietly. “It’s keeping us in.”

Adam took two respectful steps back from the door. “Love that. Hate it. But love the commitment.”

Clara hugged herself and looked around the hall. “Then what do we do?”

Rain cracked against the windows.

A flash of lightning lit the house white for one violent second, and in that second Lily saw something reflected in the tall mirror near the staircase.

A girl.

Standing behind them.

Lily spun around.

Nothing.

Her pulse went wild.

“What happened?” Jack asked immediately.

She looked back at the mirror.

It stood in an ornate gold frame between two portraits, its glass dim with age and dark spots. The surface reflected the hall, the staircase, the chandelier, their frightened faces—

and nothing else.

“I thought...” Lily swallowed. “Nothing.”

Jack stepped closer to her, lowering his voice. “You saw something.”

Before she could answer, Adam wandered nearer to the mirror and frowned at his reflection.

“Oh wow,” he said. “This house is evil. It made me look stressed.”

Leona folded her arms. “That’s just your face.”

Adam gasped. “Brutal. I’m grieving.”

Clara let out a weak laugh despite herself. Roy looked at her and gave a faint smile, but it vanished almost instantly. His attention drifted toward the hallway again, unfocused, uneasy.

Lily took a slow step toward the mirror.

The glass was colder than it should have been.

She could feel it from inches away.

Her reflection stared back: dark hair, pale face, wide unsettled eyes.

Then the reflection blinked.

Lily had not.

She staggered backward with a sharp gasp.

Jack caught her by the arms at once. “Lily.”

“There’s someone in there,” she whispered.

Adam’s joking expression fell. “Wait, seriously?”

Lily nodded, unable to look away.

For one terrible breath, the reflection was normal.

Then another face appeared over her shoulder in the mirror.

A little girl.

White dress.

Blue ribbon.

Pale hands folded neatly in front of her.

The same girl from the portrait.

Lilith Wren.

She stood behind Lily’s reflection with her head slightly tilted, her dark eyes enormous and unreadable. Her lips moved.

Lily spun around again.

No one there.

When she looked back at the mirror, the girl was gone.

Clara had gone pale. “What did you see?”

Lily licked dry lips. “The girl in the painting.”

Adam whispered, “Nope.”

Leona stepped toward the mirror with narrowed eyes. “Move.”

She inspected the frame, the wall behind it, the floor beneath it. “No hidden screen. No trick angle.”

“Great,” Adam said. “So it’s haunted the old-fashioned way.”

Clara pressed closer to Roy. “I want to leave.”

Roy didn’t answer right away.

Lily noticed and turned to him. “Roy?”

He flinched slightly, as if waking from far away. “Yeah?”

“You okay?”

“Fine,” he said too fast.

Leona noticed too. “You don’t look fine.”

Roy forced a shrug. “This place is messing with all of us.”

Thunder cracked again.

Then, from somewhere deeper inside the house, came a soft chiming sound.

Like a music box being wound.

All six of them went still.

The sound drifted down the hallway to the right of the stairs.

Slow.

Delicate.

Wrong.

Clara whispered, “Please tell me nobody else hears that.”

“We all hear it,” Jack said.

Adam pointed into the hall. “I vote we don’t follow creepy toy music. That feels like a strong life choice.”

But Lily was already looking that way.

Of course she was.

Jack noticed. “No.”

She glanced at him. “There could be another exit.”

“There could be a dead child with a hobby.”

Adam nodded. “Team Jack.”

Lily folded her arms. “You two are annoying.”

“And alive,” Jack said.

She opened her mouth to argue, but Clara suddenly stiffened.

Her eyes had gone distant.

“Clara?” Roy said.

She lifted one trembling hand and pointed not toward the music, but toward the wall beside the staircase.

“There,” she whispered.

Everyone turned.

There was nothing there except peeling wallpaper and a cracked sconce.

Clara’s breathing became uneven. “She’s standing there.”

Roy gripped her shoulders. “Who?”

Clara’s eyes filled with fear. “A woman. She’s—”

Her voice broke.

“Clara,” Lily said softly, stepping closer. “There’s nobody there.”

“Yes, there is.” Clara’s voice rose. “She’s right there, and she keeps... she keeps saying something.”

Leona moved beside her. “What is she saying?”

Clara shut her eyes tight, shaking her head. “I can’t—”

Then she gasped.

When she opened her eyes again, tears had welled in them.

“She says,” Clara whispered, “‘Don’t let him choose again.’”

Silence dropped over the hall.

Roy slowly removed his hands from Clara’s shoulders.

“What does that mean?” Adam asked.

No one answered.

Because Roy was staring at Clara now with an expression Lily had never seen on his face before.

Not fear.

Recognition.

Lily caught it instantly.

“So you know something,” she said.

Roy looked at her sharply. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Clara turned to him, hurt already rising through her panic. “Roy?”

He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “I just... that sentence sounds familiar.”

Jack’s gaze hardened. “From where?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie,” Leona said.

Roy’s temper flashed. “Can you not do this right now?”

“Oh, I’m definitely doing this right now,” Leona snapped back. “My best friend is seeing ghosts, we’re trapped in a murder house, and you’re acting like you’ve heard haunted warnings before.”

Clara stared at Roy. “Tell me.”

Roy looked at her, and for one second he almost seemed to soften.

Then the chiming music box sound came again, louder this time.

A saving distraction.

Or a threat.

Adam looked between Roy and the hallway. “I hate this house. It has timing.”

Lily turned toward the sound. “We need to find where that’s coming from.”

Jack exhaled sharply through his nose. “Of course we do.”

She glanced at him. “Come on. You’d never let me go alone.”

“That is not the romantic argument you think it is.”

Adam clutched his chest. “He admits romance exists! Historic day.”

Jack glared at him. “I’m going to throw you into the wall.”

“That’s fair.”

Even Clara let out a tiny breath that almost sounded like a laugh.

The sound helped.

Barely.

They followed the chiming down the right hallway, moving carefully past old tables draped in dust sheets and narrow windows trembling with stormlight. The corridor ended at a half-open door.

Inside was what had once been a sitting room.

The wallpaper had faded to a sickly cream. A fireplace sat cold and black beneath a cracked mantel. An old sofa crouched beneath a window, and against the far wall stood a tall vanity mirror and a narrow glass-front cabinet.

The music was coming from inside the cabinet.

Lily approached first.

Jack stayed so close their shoulders brushed.

“You really don’t get scared properly, do you?” he murmured.

Lily kept her eyes on the cabinet. “I am scared.”

“You hide it badly.”

She glanced sideways. “And you?”

He looked at her for a second, rain-dim light catching in his eyes. “I hide it by staying near you.”

The answer hit harder than it should have.

Before Lily could say anything, Adam leaned between them. “Hi, yes, some of us are witnessing intense eye contact during active haunting.”

“Adam,” Leona said, “one day your mouth will get you killed.”

“Not today, queen of sunshine.”

Lily opened the cabinet.

Inside sat a small silver music box on the middle shelf.

It was oval-shaped, engraved with roses and thorny vines. The lid had already been opened. The tiny dancer inside did not spin, but the music continued anyway, thin and sweet.

Beside the music box was a folded piece of paper.

Lily reached for it.

Jack caught her wrist again. “Maybe don’t touch random cursed letters.”

She gave him a look. “You catch my hand a lot.”

His face changed for half a second—caught, almost embarrassed.

Adam saw everything and whispered dramatically, “Touch her hand again, bro. The ghost loves tension.”

Jack let go at once. “Shut up.”

Lily unfolded the paper.

The handwriting was old, neat, and faded brown with age.

It read:

The ones who return may choose differently.

This time, don’t let the story end in regret alone.

A chill moved through the room.

Clara read over Lily’s shoulder and whispered, “Return?”

Leona’s face tightened. “That matches the theme of the carvings downstairs. Like this has happened before.”

“That is impossible,” Roy muttered.

But he said it too quietly.

Lily looked up fast. “You keep saying things like that.”

Roy’s mouth hardened. “Because all of this feels wrong in a way I can’t explain.”

Clara stared at him, hurt and suspicion mixing in her face. “Then explain what you can.”

He didn’t.

The music box suddenly snapped shut on its own.

Clara yelped.

Adam nearly climbed onto the sofa. “Nope. Tiny haunted object. No thank you.”

Then the vanity mirror across the room flashed with movement.

Lily turned—

and saw herself standing there again.

Only this time the reflection was not copying her.

It stood straighter.

Colder.

Its hair hung loose around its shoulders.

And beside it stood Jack.

Not the real Jack behind her.

Mirror Jack.

His hand was wrapped around hers.

The image was strangely tender, painfully intimate, like a scene from some future that never happened.

Lily’s breath caught.

Then the mirror changed again.

Jack vanished from the reflection.

In his place stood a dark figure with no face.

Its hand still held hers.

And behind them, the house burned.

The image disappeared with a crack racing through the glass.

Lily stumbled back, hitting Jack’s chest.

He steadied her at once. “What did you see?”

She couldn’t answer right away.

Not because she was frightened.

Because she was thinking about the first image.

About his hand in hers.

About how right it had looked.

Adam, for once reading the room badly and perfectly at the same time, said, “Based on her face, either the mirror was evil or she saw Jack shirtless.”

Lily turned bright red. “Adam!”

Even in all that fear, Jack nearly choked on a laugh.

Leona looked disgusted. “Can this group survive five minutes without becoming embarrassing?”

“No,” Adam said proudly.

The brief stupid moment broke the panic enough for everyone to breathe again.

Then Clara flinched and clutched Roy’s sleeve.

Lily saw it instantly. “What?”

Clara looked near tears. “The woman is here too.”

“Where?” Roy asked.

Clara pointed to the doorway.

No one was there.

“She keeps whispering,” Clara said. “She says... she says one of us already belongs to the house.”