Enchanted University of Magemenos

Chapter 78:Flickering Visions

"You'll get to know when it's your turn. Now, you're on your own," she said coldly, already turning to walk in the opposite direction, her silhouette disappearing into the maze of mirrors.

"Wait, brunette!" I called out, my voice slicing through the eerie silence.

She stopped but didn't turn. "WHAT?" she snapped, her tone dripping with irritation.

I hesitated for a brief moment before speaking, knowing this could be my only chance. "Give me the knife—the small one. The one you used back then."

For a long moment, the air hung thick with tension, her back still turned, making it impossible to read her reaction.

"You think I'm a fool to give you a weapon? What if you use it to kill me instead?" she snaps, her voice laced with suspicion and anger.

I take a step closer, my voice barely above a whisper. "Not for when I turn... I want it for now. Just one second, that's all I need."

She eyes me for a moment, her gaze sharp, reading every inch of my desperation. Then, with a frustrated grunt, she throws the knife toward me.

I catch it without hesitation, no time to waste. Without thinking, I bring the blade to my palm and slice it deep, the pain igniting through my entire arm as blood splatters across the mirror maze.

"What the hell are you doing?" Her voice rings with shock and disbelief. "Are you crazy? Suicide?"

I barely hear her over the pounding of my own heartbeat, the blood pooling in my hand, dripping onto the cold floor. Every second counts. The maze could shift again, the curse could return, and I needed something to mark my path, something to keep me from getting lost in this twisted labyrinth.

"Trust me," I mutter under my breath, eyes already scanning the walls, "this is the only way."

"Suit yourself," she says with a sharp glare before turning and disappearing into the maze, her footsteps fading into the eerie silence.

I stand there for a moment, staring at my bleeding palm, but the numbness is already creeping in. What she said makes sense – marking the mirrors is pointless. Every loop shifts everything. The mirrors twist, the paths change. It's a waste. But if I number them in the direction I go, it might work.

I press my bleeding finger to the mirror and begin marking each one, starting from 1, then 2, and so on, methodically counting my way through the maze. My blood stains the glass, the red marks standing out like warnings, each one a breadcrumb in the chaos.

But then, a shiver runs down my spine. It's more than just the cold; it's a strange, unsettling feeling building inside me, like something is stirring deep within, something that shouldn't be there.

My vision flickers. The mirrors blur and twist before my eyes, distorting the world around me. I blink and suddenly, I'm no longer standing in the maze.

I'm back home.

I see Mama and Papa, sitting at the table, laughing together like they always did. The warm, comforting sound of their voices fills the air. They're teasing each other, sharing jokes, and everything feels so... right.

But then, I feel it. A tug, a shift, as if something is pulling me away. The scene begins to flicker. Their faces start to distort.

The laughter becomes a mockery, twisting into something sinister.

The visions blur and shift again, taking me back to that fateful night—one I could never forget. Blood splatters across my face as the violent explosion rips through my memories, searing the images into my mind. I see the short man, his face twisted into a grotesque grin, a mix of squirrel and elf, with sharp, mischievous eyes and globular ears that twitch with his laugh. His voice echoes through the darkness, a creaky, almost inhuman sound.

"Master!" A voice trembles in the distance. "The girl is turning 19 in three months and two days from now! The girl is just like Lord Thanata and—"

Another figure steps into view—a masked man, his dark eyes locked onto me. I can feel his gaze pierce through me, cold, calculating. He's approaching. But just as his hand reaches for me, the vision shatters, and everything goes black.

The air thickens with a voice, whispering, haunting, pulling at something deep inside me.

"Kill the person who killed Mama and Papa. Kill him."