The car hummed steadily along the endless highway, its engine's soft purr blending with the muffled rustle of trees outside. Tommy sat slouched in the backseat, his chin propped up by a hand as he stared out the window. The countryside blurred past him—a kaleidoscope of golden fields and patches of dense, shadowed forests. His headphones dangled around his neck, though he wasn’t listening to anything. Instead, his thoughts wandered, swirling with uncertainty and muted apprehension.
His mother, Linda, was at the wheel. At 51, she exuded a kind of effortless elegance, her tall frame and thick black hair making her appear years younger than her age. Her hands gripped the steering wheel with precision, her eyes fixed on the road ahead. She’d always had a quiet strength about her, the kind of person who could keep things together even when everything else seemed to fall apart. It was her pragmatic nature, after all, that had pushed the family to embrace this move. A promotion for Dad, a new start, and a bigger house—it all sounded perfect on paper. But as Linda glanced in the rearview mirror at her children, her lips pressed into a thin line. She knew better than to expect perfection.
Bob, Tommy’s dad, sat in the passenger seat. His round, jovial face carried an air of easy cheerfulness. Balding with only a patch of graying hair left above his ears, Bob seemed like the sort of man who would never hurt a fly. He was the heart of the family, always cracking jokes, his laugh booming with genuine warmth. Even now, he was humming along to a country tune playing faintly on the car radio, his broad belly jiggling slightly with each note. To him, this was an adventure, a chance for his family to flourish.
In the row beside Tommy sat his twin older siblings, Tracy and Henry, both 18 and in the throes of preparing for college. Tracy had the polished poise of someone who thrived in the spotlight. Her bright blond hair was perfectly curled, her makeup immaculate even on this long drive. A popular cheerleader back at their old school, Tracy leaned against the car door with her phone in hand, scrolling through social media as though clinging to the last threads of a life left behind. Beside her, Henry was the picture of athleticism—a towering figure with strong shoulders, thick brown hair, and an air of self-assuredness. The star football player, he had the kind of easy charm that drew people to him effortlessly. Despite their different worlds, the twins shared a bond, occasionally throwing playful jabs at each other during the drive.
Tommy, at 15, felt like the odd one out. Not as popular as Tracy, not as charismatic as Henry. His own identity seemed to hang in the balance. His thick brown hair, cropped short enough to stay manageable, often fell over his hazel eyes, and his wiry frame reflected years of playing soccer—not quite muscular, but firm and agile. He wasn’t unhappy, but he wasn’t thrilled either. Moving to a new town meant starting over, and the thought of it made his stomach twist.
Beside him was his younger sister, Sally, only a year younger but so wildly different. She was a tomboy through and through, her baseball cap perched backward over long hair that she always complained about. “Dad won’t let me cut it,” she’d grumble, tugging at the strands as if to emphasize her point. She wore loose, boyish shirts and shorts, her sneakers scuffed from constant wear. Unlike Tracy, Sally didn’t care about appearances. She cared about fairness—why boys got to play the sports she loved, why people cared about who she liked. It had been no surprise when Sally came out to Tommy as gay; he had been the first person she trusted with the truth. That bond between them remained unshakable.
And then there was Max, the youngest at just 8 years old, bouncing in his seat like a bundle of chaos wrapped in bright blue and green clothing, with figers of stick men fighting. His ADHD made him a constant flurry of movement, his legs swinging wildly, and head never staying still making his wiled blond to brown long hair swish around going from one shoulder to the other as he watched cartoons on a tablet. His energy could be exhausting, especially for Tommy, who often found himself pulled into Max’s games whether he wanted to be or not. But Mom always reminded them—“It’s just how Max’s body works,” what Tommy at 15 now undersood, but still does not understand, why he can't just stop him self sometimes.
The reason for this uprooting of their lives was simple: Dad’s promotion. It came with a raise, a larger house, and the promise of new beginnings. Their destination was a sprawling, older home nestled on the edge of a quiet town. The house was rumored to have history—an old Victorian with creaky floorboards, tall windows, and the kind of attic you’d expect in a ghost story. To Tommy, it sounded intriguing, even if a little unnerving.
The house loomed as they pulled up the driveway, its darkened silhouette framed by the waning evening light. Tommy stepped out of the car, his sneakers crunching against the gravel, and gazed up at the imposing structure. It was nothing like their old home—this one felt ancient, alive in a way he couldn’t quite explain.
Inside, the family explored with excitement. Rooms were claimed, laughter echoed through the halls, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything would be fine. Tommy managed to snag a room on the second floor, its large windows overlooking the front yard. It was enormous—three times the size of his old room. But what drew his attention most was the mirror.
It stood against the far wall, draped in a heavy sheet. The frame was ornate, its carvings intricate and vaguely sinister. A curiosity tugged at him, and before he knew it, Tommy was pulling the sheet away. The mirror gleamed faintly in the dim light, its surface flawless but old. At the bottom of the frame was an inscription, written in a language he didn’t recognize. The letters seemed to shift when he stared too long, as if alive.
A creak sounded behind him, the floor protesting under someone’s weight. He turned just as the door burst open, and a figure rushed in. Startled, Tommy stumbled backward, his hand brushing against the mirror's cold surface.
In an instant, a jolt of energy surged through him. The room seemed to spin, his vision blurred, and before he could react, the other person had tripped on something and hand also touched the mirror with falling into it
And everything went black.