Chapter Four: The Memory That Wasn’t Mine

Morning came.

But it didn’t feel like morning.

The sky outside was a flat, colorless gray, and the sun never touched her window. It was as if something in the air had dimmed the world — or maybe something inside her had.

Elira sat on the edge of her bed, motionless, wrapped in a blanket that did nothing to warm her. Her fingers were cold. Her heartbeat quiet.

The mirror was dark.

Ashkar hadn’t appeared since last night.

Not even a flicker.

She stared at the glass, half expecting the echo to smile back again — wide and wrong.

But there was nothing.

No voice.

No movement.

Only the faint reflection of herself, half-formed in the pale light.

She forced herself to stand.

She walked stiffly to the bathroom, flipped the light switch.

Nothing.

The hallway mirror was still cracked — five jagged lines spiderwebbing outward from the center like veins. She didn’t dare look into it. Not directly.

She brushed her teeth with the door open. Kept her eyes on the floor. Took a cold shower.

Every time she blinked, she half-expected the other girl — the not-her — to be standing just behind the curtain.

When she finally made it downstairs, she noticed something strange.

The static-filled TV from last night was off.

But the screen was still warm.

Like it had been running for hours before she got there.

She picked up the remote and clicked the power button — off, then on again.

The screen flickered to life.

No static.

Just… darkness.

A live feed?

No label. No channel.

Just a dark room.

A chair sat in the middle.

Empty.

Elira stared at it, heart rising in her throat.

> That chair… looked familiar.

Before she could turn the TV off, the camera jolted — as if something had moved behind it

Ashkar’s voice echoed faintly from behind the mirror glass.

> “She’s feeding on the cracks inside you. That’s how she grows.”

Elira sat cross-legged on the floor, her back still against the bedroom door.

The room was cold — not in a normal way. It was a deep, unnatural cold. One that started in her bones.

> “I didn’t ask to be broken,” she said.

Ashkar didn’t respond right away. Instead, he knelt behind the mirror, as though he could reach through if he tried hard enough. His form was dimmer than before. Thinner. Like the world was trying to erase him.

> “No one ever does,” he said. “But that’s where the mirror finds you.”

After a long silence, Elira finally asked, “How long have you been here? Inside it?”

Ashkar looked up.

His glowing eyes softened — just a little.

> “Time works differently where I am.h But… I remember every summoner. Every reflection.”

> “How many were there?”

> “Too many,” he said, voice low. “Most forget. Some die. Others let the echo win and think they’ve become more.”

> “And the girl from before… The first one?”

Ashkar’s expression darkened.

---

> “She was the strongest. And the most afraid.”

Ashkar’s voice dropped to a hush, barely rising above the silence between them.

> “She didn’t summon me out of curiosity like the others. She called me with purpose. With blood. She knew what she was doing.”

Elira leaned forward slightly, her fingers brushing the smooth edge of the broken mirror shard beside her. The glass pulsed faintly — not with light, but with a subtle warmth. Like it remembered something.

> “What happened to her?” she asked.

Ashkar didn’t answer at first.

Then, very quietly:

> “She didn’t survive.”

---

Elira’s throat tightened. Her hand trembled against the shard.

> “The mirror killed her?”

Ashkar’s expression didn’t change, but the flicker in his eyes said enough.

> “Not the mirror. The echo she trusted.”

He looked directly at her now.

> “Don’t think you can bargain with her. She knows your secrets. Your wants. She is the you you try to bury.”

Elira didn’t respond.

Because she already knew that.

She’d heard her own voice humming lullabies she’d forgotten. Watched her reflection linger when she’d turned away. Seen smiles that didn’t belong to her stretched across her own face.

But still… something tugged at her hand. That shard.

She looked down. It had moved slightly on the floor — as if nudged from beneath.

Slowly, cautiously, she reached out and picked it up.

---

The moment her skin touched the edge, something inside the shard pulsed. Like a heartbeat.

And then she saw it.

Not a reflection.

A memory.

---

She stood in a bedroom that wasn’t hers. Dim candlelight flickered against crimson walls. Books floated midair, their pages turning as though caught in a wind that didn’t exist. And in the center of it all was a girl — maybe seventeen — her hair long, dark, unbrushed. Her eyes were wide with wonder. And her hands were covered in ash.

> “Ashkar,” the girl whispered in the memory.

Elira watched, frozen.

The girl knelt in front of a mirror. She was crying.

> “Take me away. Please. I did everything the book asked. The salt. The binding circle. The offering—”

She held out her wrist. Fresh blood dripped down her fingers.

And then—Ashkar appeared.

Or, a version of him. Younger. Stronger. But his eyes were the same.

> “I can’t take you,” he said gently. “Not yet.”

> “Why?” the girl sobbed. “I gave everything—”

> “Because you want to escape,” Ashkar said. “But you haven’t chosen what to become.”

Elira gasped softly.

The memory froze.

The shard in her hand vibrated — sharp, sudden — and then snapped in half.

She yelped and dropped the pieces. One of them sliced her palm. Blood bloomed across her skin, bright and fast.

Ashkar stood.

> “You touched a living shard,” he said.

> “I saw her. The girl. She summoned you, didn’t she?” Elira said quickly. “She bled for you.”

Ashkar’s voice turned cold.

> “You weren’t supposed to see that.”

---

Elira clutched her bleeding hand. The sting was real — so real. But her mind was racing too fast to feel pain.

> “You didn’t help her, did you?” she whispered.

> “I couldn’t,” Ashkar said flatly. “She made a pact with her reflection. And once that bond is formed, I’m locked out.”

> “So I’ll end up like her.”

> “Only if you let the echo win.”

---

The bleeding slowed. Elira wrapped a scarf tightly around her hand and stood up.

The room felt smaller. The air was tighter.

A memory that wasn’t hers had now burned itself into her mind. And worse — it felt familiar. Like part of her already knew what the girl had felt. The desperation. The loneliness. The offering.

> “Ashkar,” she said.

> “Yes?”

> “If you had the chance… would you help her now?”

There was a long pause.

> “I don’t know,” he said softly. “But I’d help you.”

Elira blinked.

That was the first time he’d ever said something like that.

Not a threat.

Not a warning.

Just… a truth.

---

A knock came at her door.

Sharp.

Three times.

Elira’s heart leapt.

She turned slowly. Walked to the door and opened it just a crack.

No one was there.

But something was left on the floor.

A note, folded once, tied with black thread.

She picked it up, opened it carefully — and read one sentence written in red ink:

> “You’re not the first Elira. You’re not even the second.”

Her blood ran cold.

She looked at the mirror again. Ashkar was gone.

The reflection staring back… was smiling.

---The smile in the mirror wasn’t hers.

Elira stepped back, her breath catching in her throat. Her reflection stood perfectly still — no movement, no blinking — just that strange, small grin tugging at her lips like a puppet string.

> “Ashkar?” she whispered.

No answer.

She turned, scanning the room. The air had gone heavy again, and that same strange cold from earlier settled in her chest like ice water. The mirror shimmered faintly, like glass about to crack. And still… the reflection didn’t move.

> “I know you’re not me,” Elira said shakily.

The reflection smiled wider. Slowly, she raised one hand and pressed her palm to the inside of the glass — but Elira didn’t move.

Her own hand stayed frozen at her side.

It was real.

It was happening again.

She wasn’t alone in the mirror anymore.

---

Suddenly, the lights in her room flickered — once, twice — then went completely dark.

The only light came from the mirror.

And then the sound began.

Tapping.

Soft, rhythmic tapping from inside the glass. Like nails against the other side. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Elira backed away slowly.

Then the voice came — her own voice — distorted, almost a whisper.

> “Let me out… just for a while.”

Elira shook her head.

> “No.”

The tapping grew louder.

> “Just a minute. You’re tired, Elira. Let me help you.”

Elira turned and ran.

---

She bolted from her bedroom, nearly slipping on the stairs. The house was dark, utterly still. The windows had fogged from the inside, and the front door refused to open — like it had never been a door at all, but a wall pretending.

> “Ashkar—!” she gasped. “Please—”

She heard something creak upstairs.

The mirror door in the hallway… opening.

Footsteps followed.

But they weren’t hers.

---

She ran into the kitchen and flicked on the lights — only for them to buzz violently and blink out again.

Elira grabbed the first thing she could find — a metal kitchen knife — and backed into the corner.

Silence.

Then—

Whispers.

Dozens of them. Too quiet to understand, too many to follow.

The voices weren’t coming from inside the house.

They were coming from every reflective surface.

The silver kettle. The microwave door. The oven window. The metal knife in her hand.

Her face stared back from each one — and each reflection was different.

Smiling. Crying. Screaming. Laughing.

All of them her.

All of them wrong.

> “What do you want from me?” she shouted.

The reflections answered together:

> “To be you.”

---

She dropped the knife.

It clattered loudly to the floor.

Just then, the basement door creaked open by itself.

Elira turned, heart pounding.

The darkness inside the stairwell wasn’t just absence of light — it moved. It rippled like smoke and made her eyes water just looking into it.

And from somewhere in that dark, a voice — not hers — whispered:

> “Don’t you remember what you did…?”

---

“No,” Elira breathed, backing away.

She didn’t even know what she was afraid of — only that whatever waited downstairs had waited a long time.

Then, behind her, another voice spoke.

Calm. Familiar.

> “You dropped your knife.”

Elira turned.

And there she was.

The Echo stood in the middle of the kitchen. Solid. Real. No longer inside a mirror.

Her eyes were too wide. Her lips curled up in a smile that didn’t blink.

She bent down slowly, picked up the knife from the floor, and turned it gently in her fingers.

> “It’s funny,” she said. “You thought I needed permission to walk free. But I’ve already been here.”

> “Get away from me,” Elira whispered.

> “I’m not the one who left the door open.”

The Echo stepped closer.

> “That was you.”

---

Suddenly, the hallway mirror exploded behind them — glass shattering across the floor like rain. Elira ducked as splinters flew past her cheek. And from the fragments of mirror scattered across the tiles, a hand reached out — large, clawed, and burning with red light.

Ashkar.

He pulled himself through the broken frame, his body flickering like smoke, his form half-real.

The Echo hissed and took a step back.

> “You’re not supposed to interfere,” she snapped.

> “You’re not supposed to be alive,” Ashkar growled.

the echo smiled a smile that reached her eye

---

He stood in front of Elira now, shielding her with one arm. His body crackled with heat, his eyes glowing like coals.

sensing the danger, the echo disappeared

elira breath a sigh of relief then he said

> “The night you summoned me.”

Elira stared at Ashkar, the words burning like cold fire in her ears.

She opened her mouth to ask how — what he meant — but no sound came out.

The silence between them stretched. It wasn’t peaceful. It was sharp.

Ashkar’s glowing eyes dimmed slightly as he stood, his expression unreadable. The broken glass around them pulsed faintly, like it had absorbed the echo’s presence. And now… it was hungry again.

> “I shouldn’t have stayed this long,” Ashkar murmured.

> “What are you talking about?” Elira asked, standing too quickly. Her knees buckled slightly. “You can’t just leave now—”

> “She’s learning. Evolving. Every time I fight her, she adapts. She mimics me. She’ll find a way to break through fully.”

> “Then stay. Help me stop her.”

Ashkar looked at her. Not with his usual guarded stare — but with something sad. Almost human.

> “If I stay any longer… I’ll become the reason you’re destroyed.”

And with that, he stepped backward.

Into the mirror.

Elira lunged forward, reaching for him—but her hand hit cold glass.

He was gone.

---

The house fell into a deep, unnatural silence.

No creaks. No flickering lights. No tapping.

But she could feel it. The wrongness.

Ashkar had been holding the darkness at bay. Now that he was gone, it was rising like floodwater.

She gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, heart pounding.

> “Don’t panic,” she whispered. “You’ve been alone before.”

But not like this.

Now she knew what was watching her.

Now she could feel it breathing behind the walls.

---

She made it through the rest of the night somehow. Locked every door. Covered every mirror. Even the one in her bathroom — she tore down the medicine cabinet with shaking hands and threw a towel over it.

Still, when she finally drifted to sleep just before dawn, her dreams were wrong.

---

She was standing at the edge of a lake made of black glass.

The sky above her pulsed red, like a heartbeat. Her reflection in the lake smiled without her. And far across the water, a figure stood waiting — tall, horned, with chains dragging from its arms.

> “You opened the door,” the figure said in Ashkar’s voice. “But you forgot to close it.”

She tried to run, but the glass beneath her shattered, and she fell—

Endless—

Falling—

---

Elira woke up screaming.

She sat bolt upright in bed, drenched in sweat, her throat raw. The sheets were tangled around her like vines.

Morning sunlight spilled through the blinds, too bright. Too normal.

> Was it all a dream?

She turned toward the mirror across the room.

It was uncovered.

And she didn’t remember uncovering it.

---

Her reflection sat upright just like she had.

But then it smiled.

Not a full grin. Just a twitch — like it knew something she didn’t.

Elira grabbed her lamp and hurled it at the glass.

The mirror shattered instantly, shards falling across the floor in silver lightning.

But there was no reflection in the broken glass.

Just darkness.

---

For the next few days, Elira stopped sleeping.

Ashkar didn’t return.

The echo didn’t speak.

But the mirrors kept changing.

Some stayed still, quiet, undisturbed.

Others… others rippled.

And sometimes, when she walked past one too quickly, she saw someone behind her who wasn’t there when she turned around.

---

She started noticing things outside the house too.

On the third day, in the school library, she saw a girl staring into the bathroom mirror with blood trailing from her nose. When Elira blinked, the girl was gone — no sign she’d ever been there.

On the bus, a man looked into the window’s reflection and whispered something under his breath.

> “I see her now.”

And then he smiled at Elira like he recognized her.

---

The world wasn’t normal anymore.

Whatever Ashkar had kept contained was leaking.

And then, one night, it happened again.

---

Elira was walking past the hallway mirror, still covered in duct tape and paper, when it ripped itself open from the inside.

A long, burning claw tore through the layers — and from the center, Ashkar emerged.

But he didn’t look the same.

He staggered forward, weak, burned, his body half-fading.