The Cursed Reflection of Echo

The mansion loomed over the edge of a cliff, its windows dark as the night itself. The rain beat against the roof like a relentless drum, a rhythm that matched the pounding of Eliza's heart. She had always been drawn to the place, as if it called her name from beyond the veil of darkness. But tonight, she felt a chill that ran deeper than the cold rain, a chill that came from the heart of the mansion itself.

Eliza had come to the old mansion seeking answers, answers to a past she could barely remember. Her grandmother had told her stories of the place, of a witch who had once lived there, her heart twisted into darkness by a curse she had cast upon the land. The witch had been said to have trapped her soul in a mirror, a mirror that held the power to reveal the truth, no matter how dark.

As she stepped through the creaking gates, the rain seemed to follow her, whispering secrets as she made her way to the front door. She hesitated, her fingers trembling as she reached for the handle. The door creaked open, and she stepped inside, the air thick with the scent of dust and decay.

The interior was a labyrinth of rooms, each more eerie than the last. She moved silently through the halls, her eyes scanning every shadow, every crack in the walls. She had no time for fear; she had to find the mirror, to break the curse that bound her spirit.

Finally, she came upon a large, ornate mirror set into the wall of a dimly lit room. The glass was cracked and aged, but it still held a certain allure, a siren's call that beckoned her closer. She approached it cautiously, her fingers brushing against the cool surface.

As she drew near, the mirror seemed to come alive, its surface shimmering with an eerie glow. She pressed her face against the glass, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. She saw herself, but not as she was now. She saw the girl she once was, with eyes filled with innocence and laughter.

The image in the mirror began to change, the girl morphing into an old woman, her eyes hollow and filled with malevolence. Eliza gasped, stepping back, but the image remained, a haunting reminder of the witch's curse.

Suddenly, the room grew dark, and a voice echoed through the air, "You have found the mirror, Eliza. Now you must face the truth."

Eliza turned, her heart pounding in her chest. The room was empty, save for the mirror, which now glowed with an even brighter light. She approached it once more, her resolve steeling with each step.

The mirror's surface rippled, and the image of the old woman vanished, replaced by a vision of the mansion in flames, the witch's voice screaming as she was consumed by the fire. Eliza's breath caught in her throat, the realization hitting her like a physical blow.

She was the witch. The curse had been cast upon her by her own hand, and now it bound her spirit to the mirror, to this place. She was trapped, a ghost of her former self, forever bound to the mansion and its cursed reflection.

The mirror's surface darkened, and Eliza felt a strange sensation, as if the glass was drawing her in. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the cool surface, and then she was pulled through the mirror, her body dissolving into light.

The next thing she knew, she was in the room, surrounded by flames. She tried to scream, but no sound would come out. The witch's voice echoed in her mind, "You have been reborn, Eliza. Now, you must live as the curse demands."

The flames consumed her, and she felt herself being reborn, the pain of the burn mingling with the pain of her realization. She was alive, but she was not the Eliza she had once been. She was the witch, bound by the curse, trapped in the mirror, and now, in this place of fire.

As the flames died down, Eliza found herself standing in the room, the mirror now a charred ruin. She looked at the ruins around her, the evidence of her own destruction, and then she turned and walked out of the mansion, her heart heavy with the weight of the truth.

The rain continued to fall, and Eliza stepped into the night, her reflection in the raindrops a chilling reminder of the curse that now bound her spirit. She had broken the mirror, but the curse remained, and she knew that she would always be haunted by the image of the old woman, the image of the witch, in the cursed reflection of Echo.