Through the Looking Glass

“Who’s there?â€? Regina whispered, eyes darting around the derelict structure. No voice answered, but she was drawn back to the mirror. Perhaps it was a trick of the waning light, but the reflective surface appeared aqueous, undulating. She moved forward slowly, cautiously, towards the mysterious object.

There must be a trick to it, she thought. Nothing natural could create such an illusion.

Regina. Come to me.

She was drawn to it as if in a trance. There was something about that voice that quieted her fears, drew her forward despite the protest her rational mind was screaming.

As she moved closer, the ripples in the mirror appeared to be taking shape. Faces and scenes that swam beneath the surface, struggling to coalesce into solid form.

“What are you?â€? Reggie muttered, reaching forward as if to touch the mirror. The images snapped together then, her own reflection appearing, hand reaching for her.

“Regina,â€? it whispered.

Entranced, Regina reached out and felt her hand go through the mirror.

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