"You should've seen them," Ruth said, a glow on her cheeks as she set a paper cup of vending machine coffee down on the break room table. "Noah had that look on his face—like he was pretending to be annoyed but was secretly happy. And Leah... she actually smiled."
Her coworkers chuckled.
Across the small break room at Grayeridge Hospital, two other nurses giggled in agreement. One of them, a tall woman with wavy auburn hair, nudged Ruth. "Paige and Jamie were the same. You'd think they were going to prom, the way they were getting ready. A 'late-night horror movie marathon' at a friend's house—just like the old days."
Another nurse took a sip of her coffee. "Popcorn, VHS tapes, scary stories. My cousin used to scream at every jump scare. We'd take turns daring each other to go to the bathroom alone."
They all laughed.
It was warm, safe, and familiar.
But outside, beneath the dull silver glow of Grayeridge's full moon, a figure stood at the edge of the parking lot.
An old man.
His face was weathered, his skin thin like dry paper. He wore a long coat that brushed his ankles, and his eyes were cast upward to the moon.
Faintly, he whispered—so softly that only the shadows could hear:
> "Glassfather…"
---
Meanwhile…
A thick silence hung in the air.
The only sound was the ticking of a classroom clock and the shallow breaths of four terrified kids hiding behind overturned desks and science cabinets.
Grayeridge High's science room was dark, except for the occasional flicker from outside—moonlight streaming through cracked blinds.
Beyond the door, something wandered the halls.
A silver creature.
Slithering, dragging.
Calling out names like a child searching for playmates.
"Noaaah… Jaaaamie… Quiiiiin…"
"Help us…"
"Let me out… please…"
It passed by.
The floor vibrated. And then… silence.
Only then did they exhale.
Ezra was the first to speak.
"Okay…" he whispered, still catching his breath. "How the hell do we break that?"
Nobody answered.
Suddenly, Jamie sat up, his face lit with what he thought was a brilliant idea. "Hammer," he said solemnly.
Everyone turned toward him.
There was a pause.
"…Great," Ezra muttered, eyebrow raised. "Let's all go find one. So you can go out there and hammer-punch a mirror monster."
"I'm just saying, a hammer could work," Jamie mumbled, shrinking under the sarcasm. "One swing, bam."
"Dude," Quinn said, her voice flat. "One of those things smashed the floor like it was cardboard. You think your tennis arms can break anything?"
The hope quickly faded.
Jamie slumped.
But then—Quinn's voice cut through the gloom again, quiet and thoughtful.
"…A sharp sound."
Noah turned to her, his eyes lighting up.
"Yes!" he said, sitting up straighter. "Sound. If we can produce a sharp enough frequency, it might shatter the mirror. That's how some materials respond. And if these things can mimic human senses…"
"The school radio," Quinn added. "We can use the broadcasting room."
Ezra's face twitched with skepticism, but she didn't argue.
"We'll need to separate," Noah said, now standing. "One group goes to the radio club and sets the sound. The other group—" He hesitated. "—retrieves the mirror."
"What?" Jamie blinked in disbelief. "We're actually going to carry that thing around?"
"The monster needs to be near the mirror when it breaks," Noah explained. "If it's not close, it might survive. Or worse… the captives won't be released."
Jamie turned pale. "So… we need to bait it?"
Noah nodded grimly. "It's the only way."
Everyone went quiet.
Even Ezra looked uncertain now.
But Quinn, standing beside Noah, clenched her fists.
"Then we better make it count," she said.
The group nodded slowly, the plan taking shape in their minds.
Two teams.
One shot.
Because failure meant more than just getting caught.
It meant losing everything.