The darkness wasn't empty.It was vast, deep, and alive. It pressed against Aerin's skin like water, heavy and cold, carrying whispers that moved beneath the surface of sound. She couldn't see her hands, couldn't see the trees, couldn't even see the faint glow of her lantern. It was as if the forest had swallowed every trace of light — and her with it.
Her breath came in shallow bursts. "Eira?" Her voice cracked, the word falling into the dark like a stone into a bottomless well. No answer. Just the echo of her own breathing.
A faint hum began somewhere behind her. It wasn't human — it was too low, too steady, like the sound of roots shifting deep underground. Then she heard it again — her name. Soft, drawn out, spoken by a voice that was hers and not hers at once.
"Aerin."
She turned sharply, though there was nothing to turn toward. "Who's there?"
The air seemed to move. The shadows rippled and reshaped, revealing faint outlines — trees, maybe, or memories pretending to be them. The ground beneath her feet felt wrong, spongy and warm, pulsing with a rhythm that didn't belong to earth.
Aerin forced herself to take one step forward, then another. She reached out, her fingers brushing air thick as smoke. Every instinct told her to run, but something deeper — something older — whispered to keep going.
Then, out of the dark, a single light appeared.
It was small at first, hovering a few meters away like a firefly caught between worlds. She stepped closer, and the light flickered, revealing a shape — a mirror, standing alone in the middle of the forest.
The frame was carved from white wood, covered in faint writing she couldn't read. The glass shimmered like liquid moonlight, and as she approached, she realized with a cold ache in her stomach — the reflection wasn't hers.
It was the girl again.
The same face. The same hair. But her eyes burned with faint silver light.
"Why are you doing this to me?" Aerin whispered.
The other Aerin smiled faintly. "Because you asked me to."
"I didn't—"
"Yes, you did. Once, long ago."
The reflection began to move on its own, stepping closer though Aerin stood still. When she looked down, the ground beneath the mirror wasn't made of soil at all — it was water, black and still, reflecting the endless night sky.
"You wanted someone to remember you," said the other Aerin. "You said you were afraid of fading away. Of being nothing."
Aerin felt her chest tighten. The words struck something buried deep within her — something raw. "That's not true. I don't remember—"
"Because you traded the memory," the reflection said softly. "You gave it to the forest. That's how it works. You make a wish, and it takes something in return. It always does."
The world tilted slightly. Aerin pressed a hand to her temple. Images flickered in her mind — flashes of moonlight on water, laughter echoing through trees, the warmth of someone's hand in hers — then pain, sharp and blinding.
"I don't want this," she whispered. "I want to go home."
The reflection's smile faded. "There is no home for what was never whole."
Aerin's throat went dry. "What are you saying?"
"I am what you left behind," the other Aerin said. "The forest kept me because you forgot the promise. Now it wants you back. It wants to be whole again."
The mirror rippled, its surface turning liquid. Aerin stepped back, but the reflection reached through — a pale hand emerging from the glass, dripping with light. It caught her wrist before she could pull away.
Her skin burned. Not with fire, but with memory.
Suddenly, she saw — not this forest, not this moment — but another night, years ago, when she had stood beneath the same ancient tree. She was younger, her eyes brighter, her hands clasped in front of her heart as she whispered into the wind.
Please, she had said, don't let me disappear.
The memory cracked like glass, and the forest roared in her ears.
The reflection's grip tightened. "It's time to remember."
"No—!"
The light exploded.
Aerin fell backward, gasping, landing hard on damp ground. The mirror was gone, but the air shimmered around her. Shapes formed again — faint silhouettes of people, hundreds of them, their eyes glowing faintly in the dark. Some were children, some old, all whispering in one broken chorus.
She recognized a few of their faces — from the stories in her village, from the murals she used to see near the town's old temple. People who had disappeared in the forest long ago.
"You made a wish too," one of them whispered, their voice faint and paper-thin. "You just forgot what it cost."
"I didn't mean to," Aerin said weakly. "I didn't know."
The voices answered all at once.No one ever does.
A gust of wind tore through the clearing, scattering leaves that glowed faintly as they rose. The air burned cold against her skin, and in the distance, the ancient tree's heartbeat began again — louder this time, as though it were calling her name.
Eira's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. "Aerin!"
Aerin turned toward the sound. Through the haze, she saw Eira running toward her, her cloak trailing behind like a shadow. She looked frightened — truly frightened for the first time.
"What did you do?" Eira demanded, grabbing Aerin's arm.
"I didn't— she— the mirror—"
Eira's eyes darted to the forest around them. The shadows were moving again, coiling like smoke. "You saw her, didn't you?"
Aerin nodded, her voice barely a whisper. "She said she's me."
Eira's jaw tightened. "She's what's left of you. The forest doesn't let go of those who've given it part of themselves. That's why no one comes back the same."
The ground trembled. The air shimmered. In the distance, the outline of the mirror began to reappear — only now it wasn't glass but water, rising upward, forming a doorway of liquid light.
The reflection stood on the other side, her pale eyes fixed on Aerin.
"She's calling you," Eira said, stepping in front of her. "Don't listen."
"I think… I think she's trapped," Aerin whispered. "She wants me to free her."
Eira turned sharply, her voice sharp with fear. "If you free her, you free the wish. And when a wish wakes, it remembers what it was promised."
The mirror pulsed again, brighter now, filling the clearing with trembling silver light. The reflection smiled — not cruelly, not kindly, but knowingly, like someone who had waited too long.
Eira grabbed Aerin's shoulders. "You have to choose. Leave now, or let the forest claim you both."
Aerin looked past her, into the mirror, into the eyes of the girl who bore her face. For a heartbeat, she couldn't tell which of them was real anymore.
Then the reflection whispered one last time — so softly it might have been her own thought:
You can't run from what you wished for.
And the mirror burst into light.