EMPIRE HIGH: SCHOOL OF SHADOWS

Falling through a mirror didn't feel like falling at all.

It felt like drowning in smoke. Like every part of Seraphina's body was stretched and folded, stripped of light and sound, until her name was just a breath lost in the dark.

Then the world opened.

She landed on marble, cold and wet, and gasped.

Above her, the sky bled black.

No stars. No moon. Only a swirling mass of shadow where clouds should be, moving in slow spirals like oil in water.

Empire High was still there—but not. Twisted. Ruined. The once-proud towers leaned, draped in vines of thorns. The glass windows screamed silently, and the great doors stood ajar, groaning with the weight of their memories.

She stood up, her breath visible in the strange cold.

This was Empire High.

But it wasn't hers.

She wandered the halls. Every step echoed. Every portrait on the walls was blank.

No students.

No life.

Only shadows that slithered along the baseboards like spilled ink.

In the mirror-world dining hall, the chandelier hung by a thread. Tables were shattered. Food molded into ash.

Then, she heard it—a heartbeat. Not hers.

She turned slowly.

A figure stood at the far end of the room. Not a reflection.

A girl.

Pale, barefoot, with long dark hair. Her face was obscured by a veil, and in her hands she held a locket.

Sera stepped forward.

"Amara?"

The girl turned her head.

Not Amara.

Herself.

The veil lifted just enough to reveal familiar eyes. Hollow. Gray. Cold.

"I warned you," the shadow-Sera whispered. "This is where we end."

The room pulsed.

Sera stumbled back, heart hammering.

The world tilted, then snapped

She sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, the sheets twisted around her legs.

But the mirror in her room was gone.

And in its place was a door.

A real, physical door. Old wood. Iron handle. No keyhole.

Etched across it, faint and pulsing:

ENTER WHEN YOU'RE READY TO CHOOSE.

At breakfast, Empire High buzzed with tension.

Another student was missing.

This time, someone from House Ignis. A fire mage named Tessa Korr.

Her bed untouched. Her flame pin left behind.

The only sign of her was a charred scorch mark on the floor in the shape of a rune—the same sigil on Sera's palm.

Whispers spread faster than wildfire.

Sera kept her head down, but she could feel the fear creeping in.

They didn't blame the curse.

They blamed her.

Nyra met her in the East Tower stairwell.

"You vanished last night. Don't lie. I felt it. The mirror pulled you in."

"I saw the other me again. The ruined school. No one was left."

Nyra's eyes widened. "The Hollow Future. It's a prophecy. A possible ending. Only the marked can enter that world."

"How do I stop it from becoming real?"

Nyra's silence said everything.

"You can't. Unless... you make the right choice when the time comes."

Sera clenched her fists. "And no one will tell me what that is."

Nyra touched her shoulder. "Because the choice isn't written. You have to write it."

In Magic Theory, Professor Vellum lectured about forbidden enchantments. His glowing white eyes hovered over her longer than necessary.

"Some spells defy the will of their caster. Some curses choose their hosts. And some doors... open only once."

He tapped the board with his wand, and an image of the mirror-door appeared. The class gasped.

Sera froze.

Vellum stared directly at her.

"If such a door appears in your dreams—or in your reality—report it. Immediately."

She didn't.

That night, she didn't sleep.

She watched the door.

It didn't move. Didn't open. Didn't speak.

But around midnight, the sigil on her palm flared.

And a whisper came from behind it.

"You're not alone."

She turned, but no one was there.

Then she heard footsteps. Not outside the door. Inside.

She stood, heart racing.

And touched the handle.

It was warm.

Inside the door was not the Hollow Future.

It was a library.

Massive. Endless. Thousands of shelves stretched in every direction, filled with books that shimmered in strange colors.

A candle floated beside her, casting soft golden light.

She stepped forward.

A voice echoed from somewhere above.

"Welcome to the Hall of Echoes."

She turned slowly. Elijah was there.

Or a version of him. Dressed in black robes, older, his eyes dimmed with experience.

"You've come farther than most."

"Is this real?"

"As real as your choices. Each book here is a possible life. A branch. A fracture."

She walked to the nearest shelf.

Pulled a book.

Seraphina Cole: The Girl Who Stayed

She flipped it open. It showed her staying at Empire High, refusing the Vault, living a quiet life as a forgotten magical archivist.

She pulled another.

Seraphina Cole: The One Who Burned the World

A future where she unleashed the curse on purpose.

Another.

Seraphina Cole: The Shadow Queen

Her standing atop a dark tower, Empire High in ruins, Elijah kneeling at her feet.

She dropped the book.

Elijah caught it.

"There are infinite versions of you, Sera. But only one walks the thread. You must choose who you will become."

She looked up.

"And if I don't?"

"Then the world chooses for you. And the world always chooses ruin."

She left the Hall of Echoes with more questions than answers.

But something had changed.

When she looked in the mirror the next morning, her reflection no longer flinched.

It nodded.

As if it were waiting.

Not to destroy her.

But to become her.