Chapter 2: Whispers in the Fog

The streets of Velarion were different in the deep night—quieter, as though the city held its breath. Emily hurried through the twisting alleys, the mysterious coin still clutched in her hand, its faint warmth radiating through her palm. She kept glancing back, half-expecting to see the shop reappear or the strange merchant trailing behind her. But she was alone, save for the mist that crept through the streets like a living thing.

By the time she reached her apartment above the Hall of Echoes, her heart was pounding, and not only from the brisk walk. She locked the door behind her, resting her back against the cool wood as she caught her breath. Her mind raced with questions, too many to organize. Who was that merchant? How had he known her father’s name? And most of all—what was the mirror?

Slowly, she opened her hand to examine the coin again. Its spiraling glyph seemed to shimmer in the dim light, as if the pattern were twisting beneath the surface. Every time she looked at it, the spiral drew her gaze deeper, like a whirlpool. She could almost feel a heartbeat within it—steady, deliberate. Alive.

And then, as she stared at it, the glyph began to glow.

Emily stifled a gasp, her fingers tingling. The light was faint, just a dim, bluish aura, but unmistakably real. She turned the coin over in her hand, trying to see if the light was some trick of the metal. But no—whatever power was within the glyph, it was awakening. And as it did, her apartment began to… shift.

The walls blurred at the edges, and the furniture in her room seemed to waver, like she was seeing it all from underwater. The light around the coin grew stronger, casting strange, flickering shadows across the room.

And then, a voice. Low, ancient, and echoing within her mind.

“Emily…”

She froze, staring into the light, her heart pounding so loudly she could hear it echo in her ears. The voice was familiar, achingly so. It was her father’s voice.

“Dad?” she whispered into the silence, her voice barely a breath.

The shadows in the room swirled, forming strange shapes against the walls, like dark figures watching her from another world. The glow around the coin pulsed, as if in answer.

“Find the mirror,” the voice whispered, soft and pleading. “It is the only way…”

A chill raced down her spine. She had seen his face in the mirror, and now she heard his voice, faint but clear, like a message sent through layers of time. He was alive somewhere—trapped, maybe even calling to her from beyond the veil between worlds.

But before she could process the thought, the coin grew hot in her hand, almost too hot to hold. She let out a sharp gasp and dropped it, watching as it clattered to the floor. It rolled, spinning wildly, before coming to a stop beside her bed. The glow faded, but her heart raced with newfound fear—and excitement.

She crouched down, reaching for it, but as her fingers brushed the coin, the world tilted. The room darkened, and a strange pressure settled over her, as though the very air around her had thickened. And then she heard it: a faint scratching, coming from her door.

Emily’s blood went cold. She wasn’t expecting visitors—certainly not in the dead of night. The scratching grew louder, more insistent, as if whatever was on the other side of the door wanted in desperately.

“Who… Who’s there?” she called, her voice barely a whisper.

No response. Just the sound of claws—or nails—scraping against the wood. She swallowed, backing away from the door, but the scratching grew more frantic, as though whatever was out there could sense her hesitation.

And then it stopped.

Silence fell, heavy and tense. Emily held her breath, straining to listen, when suddenly the doorknob rattled, twisting as if someone—or something—were trying to turn it from the other side. Her heart pounded as she watched the knob turn halfway, then stop.

Then, from the hallway, a voice drifted through the door. Faint, almost dreamlike.

“Emily… it’s time…”

It was her father’s voice again, but this time it didn’t sound pleading. It sounded wrong—cold and hollow, almost mocking, as if someone were imitating him.

She stepped back, her eyes glued to the door, every instinct screaming at her to run. But where? She was trapped in her own apartment, with a door that seemed ready to open at any second. And that’s when she realized it: the glyph on the coin had stopped glowing.

A shadow slid beneath the doorframe, inky and thick, pooling around her feet like dark water. She gasped, stumbling back, but the shadow continued to spread, crawling up the walls and covering her apartment in darkness. The scratching returned, now inside the room, echoing from the walls, from every corner.

“No,” she whispered, clutching the coin tight. “This can’t be happening…”

And then the voice echoed again, louder, filling the room as if coming from all directions.

“You cannot escape what calls to you.”

The shadows twisted, forming shapes that loomed closer, arms outstretched, reaching for her. She pressed herself against the wall, her heart hammering wildly, as her grip tightened around the coin. In a last, desperate move, she raised it above her head.

The glyph flared to life, a blinding blue light cutting through the darkness. The shadows recoiled, hissing as the light grew brighter, filling the room until she couldn’t see anything else. And then, in the heart of the light, she saw an image: the mirror, its frame glowing with the same eerie blue hue as the glyph.

The light dimmed, and she was left alone in her room, the shadows gone, the scratching silenced. The coin lay cool and still in her hand.

But Emily knew, with terrifying clarity, that her father was reaching out from somewhere beyond this world, and that whatever was out there—the darkness, the voices, the mirror—they would keep calling to her.

She sank to the floor, breathless and shaken, staring at the coin that had ignited this nightmare.

The mirror was her only way to him.

And it was only a matter of time before she would have to answer its call.