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There's something in the mirror.
You stare, and stare, and stare. You are quiet, staring some more.
You can't quite make out what it is. Is it you? Is it your shadow, falling over the image and distorting it beyond comprehension?
Gingerly you raise your hand. It crosses the distance. Your fingertips taste the cold surface of the mirror.
You can't see it yet, but there is something in the mirror. Your hand can feel it.
Your dominant hand, it feels the presence in the mirror. It knows there's something in there. It knows what's in there.
You've run out of strength. Your fingers curl inwards, into a loose fist, and your hand retracts from the mirror.
You turn it around, stare at it. And stare, and stare, in complete silence. It doesn't tell you what it's seen, so you don't know what's in the mirror.
The shadows shiver along the room's corners. You barely even notice.
Piano notes slowly drift in, a quiet yet impactful melody. Accompanying come the beat of drums, and if you wait long enough, drum's cymbals ring out in an organized chaos. It happens only once.
The song loops. Seconds drag their feet along the ground.
You believe there should be a singer coming in at this point of the melody. You don't know why you think this.
You just do. You just... Know.
You've turned away from the mirror. You don't know when, just know it happened. You're not looking at the mirror anymore.
Something glitters from the corner of your eye, just a glint. It's all you need.
Slowly you turned to look, neck stuttering in its movements. Your eyes find the glass of the mirror once again.
There's something there. Letters, too small for you to read. White, a phrase on top, two options below. A few coupled specks of red.
It's like a picture clears suddenly. You can see what's in the mirror.
It's far away, you can barely see it. Warm colors intercut by black. It feels like it watches you back.
It knows you're in the mirror. It knows there's something in the mirror.
It looks at you, sees you. Talks to itself, unknowing you can hear it. The piano comes from them.
Their side of the mirror.
... Calling it a mirror is unfitting, isn't it? You know it's not a mirror. You don't know how you know, you just know.
Well. Mirrors certainly don't act like that.
Your body moves on its own, you've given it no input. From the corner, your eyes stare at the... Glass.
Someone is in there. They're controlling you.
You can almost hear their words. They're unintelligible to you.
Your hand squeezes around the handle of your sword, you walk forward. Sprint forward. There's no thought put into it, no choice taken on your part.
It's stubbornness, determination. Thoughtless fun.
You can barely catch what they say in the silence of the Fountain. "I'm beating this motherfucker, no matter what!"
No matter what?
Across from you he stands. He understands, he knows. He can see the person on the other side of the glass, too.
You look into his eyes. Yellow and pink meet your gaze.
You swipe across the air with your sword; the battle has begun anew.
'No matter what'. You can believe it.