The house remained silent. Empty. Yet something inside was watching.

Months turned into years. The town forgot the missing boy, the vanished college student, the rumors of the mirror. People moved on.

Until one night.

A storm raged outside, thunder shaking the ground. A lone traveler, seeking shelter, found himself at the doorstep of the forgotten house. His bike had broken down a few miles away, and the rain was relentless.

He knocked. No answer.

But the door... creaked open on its own.

Lightning flashed, illuminating the dust-filled space. The traveler hesitated, but the wind howled behind him, leaving him no choice. He stepped inside.

The air was heavy. Wet. A strange chill seeped into his bones.

Then—he heard it.

A faint tapping sound. Rhythmic. Deliberate.

Drip… drip… drip…

He followed the noise down the dark hallway, his footsteps muffled by the damp wooden floor.

And then—he saw it.

The mirror.

Tall. Dust-covered. Its surface rippling, shifting, like a pool of black water.

For a moment, he saw nothing. Just his own reflection.

Then—another face appeared.

Wide eyes. Hollow. Desperate.

Aarav.

The traveler stumbled back, his breath hitching. The boy’s lips moved, though no sound came.

Help me.

The words formed against the glass, fogging the surface.

The traveler’s pulse pounded. This is impossible....