The mansion's walls groaned like an old beast caught in its death throes, a haunting sound that filled the silent air of the night.
Selene stood at the threshold of her room, listening to the unsettling creaks of the old structure as if it were alive, breathing, whispering.
Her heart thudded in her chest, a wild rhythm that matched the uncertainty coursing through her veins. The Alpha's words echoed in her mind: "Stay out of the west wing. It's not for you."
But something about that forbidden wing called to her, an irresistible pull she couldn't ignore. It was more than the mansion's shrouded mystery—it was the urge to understand why Kael, the cold and unfeeling Alpha, would lock away an entire part of the house. What was so dangerous about that wing? What was hidden there, veiled by time and dust?
Selene tightened her shawl around her shoulders, steeling herself against the night's chill, and stepped cautiously into the dark corridor. She moved with care, her footsteps soft against the cold, stone floor, as if the house might notice her intrusion.
The hallway was long and narrow, its walls lined with faded portraits. The eyes in those paintings followed her every step, and she swore she could almost hear their whispers, a faint murmur of voices from another time.
A bead of sweat formed on the back of her neck as she moved past them, her breath shallow. She had been in this mansion for days now, yet the air in this hallway felt different—darker, heavier. It pressed down on her, wrapping itself around her like a shroud.
The door to the west wing loomed ahead, old and heavy, its wood marked by deep gouges, as though something—or someone—had tried to claw their way out. Selene reached for the iron handle, her hand trembling despite her attempts to steady it.
"Don't be stupid," she muttered to herself, but her words rang hollow in the silence. "Just a quick look. In and out."
She turned the handle slowly, the door creaking on its hinges, the sound unnervingly loud in the quiet. Her breath hitched as she slipped through the door, half-expecting to be caught.
The room beyond was vast and empty, filled with broken furniture and shattered mirrors. Moonlight filtered through a cracked skylight above, casting pale beams across the floor where dust floated in the air like ghosts. Everything about the room felt abandoned—like time had forgotten it.
Selene moved further inside, her eyes scanning the wreckage. This room had once been something magnificent, she could tell. But now, it was a place of decay, filled with remnants of forgotten memories. Torn curtains hung limp, their fabric stained with age, and the scent of mildew clung to the air.
But what drew her attention most of all was the massive mirror that stood at the center of the room. Unlike the rest of the broken objects, the mirror was pristine, its surface smooth and untouched by time. Its ornate frame gleamed in the dim light, intricate patterns carved into the wood. But it wasn't the beauty of the mirror that unsettled her—it was the way the air around it seemed to shimmer, as though the glass itself were alive.
Selene approached it slowly, her heartbeat quickening with every step. Her reflection stared back at her, but it wasn't quite right.
Her eyes were too bright, her features too sharp, almost unnatural. For a moment, she wondered if she was seeing things, but the mirror didn't lie. Her reflection was different, darker.
She leaned in closer, her breath fogging up the glass. Something about the reflection didn't sit right, a twisting feeling in her gut.
Suddenly, the whisper came. A soft, almost imperceptible sound, as if it were a breath shared between worlds.
"Selene…"
She froze, the blood draining from her face. The room felt colder now, the temperature dropping in a way that made her skin crawl.
"Who's there?" she whispered, her voice trembling despite her best efforts.
The whisper came again, louder this time.
"Selene…"
Her heart raced in her chest as her hand instinctively reached for the hilt of the knife at her side, though she knew it wouldn't protect her from whatever this was. She spun around, her pulse racing, but there was no one behind her. Just shadows stretching across the room, flickering in the dim light.
But then—she saw it.
In the reflection, behind her, stood a woman. Her form was faint at first, like a mist, but it solidified as Selene watched, her heart leaping into her throat.
The woman had silver hair that cascaded down her back like molten metal, her eyes dark and stormy, full of sorrow and pain.
Selene gasped, stumbling back, but the woman's gaze remained locked on her, unblinking.
"Who are you?" Selene whispered, her voice barely audible.
The woman didn't answer. Instead, she lifted a delicate hand, and the mirror shimmered as though ripples passed across the surface of the water. Her lips parted as if to speak, but only a faint whisper reached Selene's ears.
"You don't belong here…"
Fear gripped Selene's heart like a vice. She backed away from the mirror, her pulse pounding in her ears. This place—it wasn't just haunted. It was alive. The power in this room, in the mirror, was ancient, something older than the mansion itself.
She turned to flee, her feet stumbling over broken furniture as she scrambled to reach the door. The whispers grew louder, echoing in her mind, twisting and warping until they were no longer just voices—but an entire presence, filling the room with malice.
Selene yanked the door open and sprinted down the hallway, her breath ragged, her limbs trembling with fear. Behind her, she swore she could hear laughter—a cold, cruel sound that chased her, echoing down the corridors.
When she reached her room, she slammed the door shut and locked it, pressing her back against it, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was still hammering, and her hands shook as she pulled the shawl tighter around herself.
The mansion felt like it was alive, aware of her, watching her every move. And that mirror… whatever it was, whatever power lay in the west wing, it was far more dangerous than she had ever imagined.
Selene closed her eyes, her mind racing.
The west wing was forbidden for a reason.
And now, more than ever, she understood why.