The Baleivian Scrolls-The Hidden Realm

Unseen Connections

We slipped out of the supply room, adrenaline still coursing through me like electricity. My mind raced, the image of that mirror seared into my thoughts. It wasn't just strange—it felt alive, like it was waiting for something. For me.

As we walked briskly back to the gym, Lindsay kept stealing glances my way, her brows knitting with the kind of excitement only she could muster after something creepy. "That was insane, Clover," she whispered, half in disbelief. "Did you see how Ms. Henderson acted? She knew. She totally knew."

I nodded, still trying to make sense of it all. "Yeah. And it felt like..." I hesitated, unsure how to explain it without sounding unhinged. "It felt like that mirror wasn't just showing us a reflection. It was more, like it—like it wanted us there."

Lindsay slowed her pace, her expression shifting from playful curiosity to something more serious. "Do you think it's connected to—" She trailed off, but I knew what she was getting at: the weird feeling that's been hanging over me ever since that day with Greigh.

"I don't know," I murmured. "But it's not just some random school mirror. I can feel it." I wrapped my arms around myself, as if that would ward off the cold knot in my gut. "And the way Henderson acted... It's like she's guarding it."

We made it back to the gym just as the festival officially kicked off. Music blared from cheap speakers, students darted between booths, and teachers bustled around, trying to keep everything from descending into chaos. Lindsay gave me a little nudge with her elbow.

"C'mon," she said with a grin. "Let's get our game going. If we win the prize, maybe we'll reward ourselves with extra mocha's—and a strategy session. I have a feeling this is just the start of something big."

Her lightheartedness was like a lifeline. I wanted to dive back into the fun, into the normalcy of running a silly ring toss game and laughing with kids. But even as we set up the booth, I couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching us.

The kids came in droves, tossing rings, competing with each other, and giggling as they shouted trivia answers at the bottles. For a while, I let myself get lost in the chaos of the moment. Lindsay was right: this was fun. It felt good to do something.

But every time I looked toward the hallway where we'd found the mirror, unease prickled at the back of my neck, as though invisible fingers were tracing my spine.

Then, just as I thought I might settle into the rhythm of the day, a familiar face caught my attention. It was Ms. Henderson. She stood near the entrance, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her sharp gaze sweeping across the gym. And for just a second, her eyes locked onto mine.

I felt my stomach flip. She knew. She knew we'd been in the supply room.

Before I could say anything to Lindsay, Ms. Henderson's stern expression cracked, just slightly—a flash of something cold, almost triumphant. Then she turned and slipped through the door, disappearing down the hall.

My pulse raced. I had to follow her.

"Lindsay," I said under my breath, leaning closer to her. "I'll be right back."

"What? Where are you—Clover!" she hissed, grabbing my arm. But I was already moving, weaving through the crowd toward the door.

I didn't know what I was doing, exactly, only that I couldn't let Ms. Henderson slip away without finding out what she was hiding.

I stepped into the hallway, the festival noise fading behind me, replaced by the unsettling silence of the school's empty corridors. Ms. Henderson was nowhere in sight.

But the pull—the same strange pull I'd felt near the mirror—was stronger now, tugging at me like an invisible thread.

Without thinking, I followed it.

The air grew cooler the farther I walked, and the fluorescent lights above flickered as if they were struggling to stay awake. My footsteps echoed loudly, and for a moment, I felt like I was the only person left in the building.

Then I saw it.

The door to the supply room was slightly ajar again, just as it had been before. A soft, silver light seeped from the crack, like moonlight spilling through a broken window.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest. I knew I should turn back—go find Lindsay, or call someone, anyone. But my legs moved on their own, drawn forward by that strange energy, that whispering voice in the back of my mind urging me to look closer.

I pushed the door open—and froze.

The mirror was glowing.

Not just shimmering like before, but glowing with a strange, otherworldly light that pulsed like a heartbeat. And as I stepped closer, the swirling colors within it seemed to slow, twisting and curling into shapes that made my breath hitch.

It was a face.

Greigh's face.

"Greigh?" I whispered, my voice trembling. I reached out instinctively, my hand hovering just inches from the mirror's surface.

Her image flickered, as though she were trapped beneath layers of water, and her lips moved soundlessly, forming words I couldn't hear. But her eyes—her eyes locked onto mine, wide with fear.

Then, without warning, the surface of the mirror rippled like a pond disturbed by a stone—and Greigh was gone.

In her place stood something else.

A figure cloaked in shadow, its features sharp and alien, with eyes that burned like coals in the dark. It grinned—a slow, deliberate grin that sent ice through my veins.

And then it spoke.

"Soon," it whispered, the word slithering through my mind like smoke.

I stumbled back, heart hammering, just as the mirror's glow dimmed and the swirling colors stilled. The room plunged into silence, the air heavy with the lingering scent of something ancient and bitter.

I staggered toward the door, panic clawing at my throat. I had to get out of here.

As I reached the hallway, a hand grabbed my wrist—and I nearly screamed.

"Clover! It's me!"

I turned to see Lindsay, her eyes wide with concern. "What is going on? You just disappeared! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

"I—I saw..." I stammered, struggling to find the words. "Greigh. She was in the mirror. And then—something else. Something wrong."

Lindsay's expression darkened. "Who's Greigh? Clover if you're seeing things we need to tell someone. Now."

"No," I whispered, shaking my head. "We can't. Not yet. This... this is bigger than us."

Her grip on my wrist tightened. "Clover, if you think I'm letting you handle this alone, you're out of your mind."

A small, shaky smile crept across my face. "I wouldn't expect anything less."

Lindsay exhaled sharply, her usual playfulness returning, if only for a moment. "Good. Because whatever's going on? We're figuring it out. Together."

I nodded, the weight of the strange encounter still heavy on my chest—but with Lindsay beside me, it felt a little lighter.

As we made our way back toward the festival, one thought echoed in my mind, clear as a bell:

This wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

And whatever was waiting in that mirror?

It wasn't done with me yet. And the looks I continued to receive from Lindsay were adding to my issues.