The Devil's Mistress

Chapter 10: The Blackened Mirror

The world came back to Lilith in fragments. Darkness first, then cold—a bitter, unnatural chill that seeped into her bones. Her eyelids fluttered open, heavy and reluctant, and she found herself lying on a hard, uneven surface. The smell of damp stone and decay filled her nostrils, and for a moment, she couldn’t remember where she was or how she’d gotten there.

Panic flickered in her chest as the memories clawed their way back: the hallway, the footsteps, the ancient book, the figure in the shadows. She sat up with a gasp, her heart racing, and found herself in a room that was unfamiliar yet hauntingly familiar at the same time.

The stone walls were cracked and uneven, covered in dark, creeping vines that seemed to pulse faintly, as though they were alive. The air was thick and heavy, weighed down by an oppressive sense of dread. Candlelight flickered dimly from sconces mounted on the walls, casting long, distorted shadows that twisted and writhed like phantoms. The room was narrow, almost claustrophobic, with no windows and only one door—a massive, ironbound slab of wood that looked as though it hadn’t been opened in centuries.

Lilith stood slowly, her legs shaky and unsteady. Her breath came in shallow gasps as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. The sense of being watched—of being hunted—was stronger here, more palpable than it had ever been. Every inch of the room seemed to pulse with malevolent energy, as though the very walls were alive, pressing in on her.

There was something wrong with this place. Something deeply, terribly wrong.

The whispers returned, faint and elusive at first, like the rustling of dry leaves on a windless night. But they grew louder with every second, filling the air around her with unintelligible words, a chorus of voices speaking in a language she couldn’t understand. They seemed to come from every direction, their dissonant hum reverberating off the stone walls, curling into her mind.

Lilith backed away from the door, her gaze darting around the room. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but there was nowhere to go. She was trapped.

Suddenly, the whispers stopped, replaced by a low, rhythmic thudding—like the sound of something heavy being dragged across the floor. The noise came from behind the ironbound door, echoing down a long hallway just beyond it. The sound was slow and deliberate, as though whatever was making it was in no rush, fully aware that escape was impossible.

Lilith’s pulse quickened, her body frozen in place. She stared at the door, dread curling in her stomach. The sound was getting closer.

And then, as if in answer to her silent terror, the door creaked open with an agonizing slowness. The thick wooden slab groaned on its ancient hinges, revealing nothing but a yawning black void beyond. The hallway beyond the door was shrouded in impenetrable darkness, its depths seemingly endless.

Lilith took a step back, her hands shaking. Her instincts screamed at her to flee, but her legs refused to move. The darkness seemed to pulse with a life of its own, reaching out toward her, beckoning her forward.

Don’t go, she told herself. Don’t follow it.

But her feet betrayed her. One step, then another, pulling her closer to the door. The darkness seemed to swell, eager to swallow her whole.

Suddenly, something shifted in the shadows. A figure—tall, gaunt, and impossibly thin—emerged from the blackness. Its movements were slow, deliberate, its body distorted and grotesque. It had no face, only a smooth, featureless expanse where its eyes and mouth should have been. Its skin was pale, almost translucent, with veins pulsing just beneath the surface, as though it were filled with something other than blood.

Lilith’s throat tightened in horror as the creature stepped into the flickering candlelight. It didn’t make a sound, but its presence radiated a deep, visceral wrongness, as though it didn’t belong in the world of the living. It raised one skeletal hand, pointing directly at her with fingers that seemed to stretch and curl unnaturally.

Lilith’s breath caught in her throat, her mind racing. She had to move. Now.

She spun around, searching for another way out, but the room offered no escape. The walls seemed to press in on her, the shadows growing longer, darker. Panic surged in her chest, her mind scrambling for a solution, any way to survive.

Then she saw it: a mirror, tall and ornate, hanging on the far wall. Its frame was gilded, covered in strange, intricate carvings that writhed like serpents in the dim light. The glass itself was blackened, the reflection murky and distorted, but it called to her, drawing her gaze like a beacon in the darkness.

Lilith felt a strange pull toward the mirror, a compulsion she couldn’t explain. The whispers returned, louder now, urging her to approach. Her feet moved before her mind could process what she was doing, carrying her across the room toward the mirror. The creature at the door remained motionless, watching her with its faceless gaze.

As she reached the mirror, her breath fogged the glass, but no reflection stared back at her. Instead, the blackened surface rippled like water, distorting and twisting the dim candlelight into strange, eerie shapes. The carvings on the frame seemed to move as well, the serpentine figures writhing and curling around each other.

Without thinking, Lilith raised a trembling hand and pressed it against the glass. The surface was cold—so cold—and yet it gave beneath her touch, like a thin veil of ice ready to crack.

The moment her fingers touched the mirror, the world around her changed.

The stone walls dissolved, replaced by swirling darkness. The ground beneath her feet gave way, and she was falling—falling through a vast, endless void. The air was heavy with the stench of decay, and the whispers became deafening, a cacophony of voices clawing at her mind. Images flashed before her eyes—shadows writhing in the dark, blood dripping from ancient stone, the face of the woman from the clearing, her eyes black and soulless.

Lilith screamed, but the sound was lost in the abyss. Her body twisted and tumbled through the void, the darkness wrapping around her like cold, suffocating tendrils. There was no escape, no way out. She was trapped in this nightmare, and the deeper she fell, the more the darkness consumed her.

Just as she thought she couldn’t take any more, the descent stopped. The air around her grew still, silent. The whispers faded, replaced by a heavy, oppressive quiet.

Lilith opened her eyes and found herself standing in a vast, shadowy chamber. The floor was made of black stone, slick with some kind of liquid that shimmered in the faint light. Massive pillars lined the chamber, their surfaces covered in the same grotesque carvings she had seen on the mirror. And at the far end of the room, standing on a raised platform, was the blackened mirror.

But this time, it wasn’t just a mirror. The surface had cleared, revealing a figure trapped inside the glass—a woman, her face twisted in anguish, her eyes wide and filled with terror. It was her.

Lilith stared at her own reflection, frozen in horror. The woman in the mirror reached out, pressing her palms against the glass, her mouth moving as though she were screaming, but no sound came out.

The realization hit her like a blow to the chest. This was her fate. She was trapped in the mirror, lost in the darkness, a prisoner of whatever malevolent force ruled this place.

And then, from the shadows, came the slow, deliberate sound of footsteps.

Lilith turned, her heart pounding in her chest, as the faceless figure from before stepped into the chamber. Its skeletal hand raised once more, pointing directly at her.

The whispers returned, louder and more insistent than ever.

“You cannot escape, Lilith.”

She stumbled back, her body trembling. The figure stepped closer, its presence suffocating, inescapable.

Lilith's gaze darted back to the mirror, to the reflection of herself trapped inside. And in that moment, she realized the terrible truth: the woman in the mirror wasn’t just her. It was every version of her—every life, every choice, every path she had ever taken, all leading to this moment.

She had always been trapped.

And now, the darkness was coming for her, to claim what had always been its own.

The faceless figure loomed over her, and the last thing Lilith saw before the darkness swallowed her whole was her own reflection, screaming silently from the blackened glass.