Noah's house wasn't big, but it had just enough room for a quiet meeting of curious, terrified teenagers and their equally bewildered older sisters.
The living room lights were dim, and the coffee table was cluttered with notebooks, snacks, and the worn leather journal that had turned their lives upside down.
Noah sat on the couch, flipping through its fragile pages, while Jamie sprawled on the carpet with a bag of chips. Quinn and Ezra sat cross-legged near the fireplace, and Paige stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the wall, ever watchful.
Leah, on the other hand, was more distant—both physically and emotionally. She perched on the armrest of the recliner, arms folded tightly across her chest, lips pressed into a thin line.
"I still don't think we should be doing this," Leah said flatly. "Digging into stuff that doesn't concern us—what if we make it worse?"
"But what if it gets worse on its own?" Paige replied, her voice firm. "I don't know what that mirror thing was, but it nearly took Quinn. We can't ignore that."
Leah frowned. "I'm not ignoring it. I'm saying we're not equipped for this."
Paige gave her a look. "I wasn't equipped to dodge a pipe projectile from a demon mirror, either, but I did. We either figure this out or wait for it to come knocking again."
Leah sighed but said no more.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Ruth—their mother—was practically glowing.
She peered around the corner, grinning like a child on Christmas. "Noah," she whispered not-so-subtly, "are these your friends?"
"Mom—" Noah groaned.
"Two girls?" Ruth beamed, hands on her hips. "One cute, one very mature. I like your taste."
Noah stared at her. "What are you—?"
Jamie, grinning like the devil himself, raised an eyebrow. "Yoo, Noah, you player."
Quinn instantly flushed. "Wha—I'm not—I mean—it's not—!"
Ezra, casually flipping through a book, barely spared a glance. "I'm flattered," she said coolly, "but unfortunately, I don't date guys."
Jamie nearly choked on his chip.
Ruth laughed and waved a hand. "Alright, alright, I'll stop. I have the night shift at the hospital anyway." She kissed Noah's head. "Don't burn the house down with your little cult meeting."
"Thanks, Mom."
As she left, the door closed behind her, and the group settled again, tension fading back into curiosity and fear.
Quinn leaned forward, eyes thoughtful. "There's something that's been bugging me."
Everyone turned to her.
"The mirror that attacked us was in the basement of the abandoned church, but that journal… it mentioned a different one."
Noah looked up. "The one in the school?"
She nodded. "Which means—"
"They're not alone," Noah finished.
A silence fell over them like a heavy fog.
Jamie muttered, "So... it's not a mirror demon. It's mirrors, plural. Like a whole infestation."
Ezra ran a hand through her hair. "How many do you think there are?"
Noah opened the book again. "If these are 'shards,' then maybe each mirror is a piece of something bigger. Like fragments of one being scattered across town."
"Or hiding," Quinn added. "Replacing people. Watching."
Jamie grimaced. "I'm never brushing my teeth again."
"That's nasty," Paige muttered, though her tone lacked its usual bite.
Noah flipped through a few more pages.
There were cryptic notes: names of buildings, a drawing of a crescent-shaped scar, and a map of what looked like Grayeridge with dots marking certain places—one near the church, another by the school, and a third by a bridge.
He paused. "There's a pattern. Look."
He spread the map on the table.
Quinn leaned in. "So far, we've confirmed one at the church and possibly one at school."
Jamie pointed. "That third mark. That's the old stone bridge by Gallow's Creek."
Ezra frowned. "Why would a mirror be there?"
"Maybe it's not a mirror," Noah said, "but anything that reflects."
That sentence made everyone shudder.
Quinn closed her notebook. "Then we need to check each place. One by one."
Leah rubbed her temples. "This is such a bad idea."
"But it's better than waiting for another attack," Paige added.
Noah glanced at the journal again, then back at his friends—his unlikely group of misfits, siblings, and maybe-saviors.
"This town," he said quietly, "has been hiding too much for too long."
As they all stared at the map of Grayeridge, the dots gleaming like marks of buried secrets, they knew one thing for sure:
The shards were real.