It had been three weeks since his grandfather's funeral. Three weeks of silence, of unfinished thoughts and unspoken goodbyes. Jackson had searched every inch of the old man's house, but the glowing book was nowhere to be found.
At school, he was a shadow-silent, focused, and increasingly isolated. Even the teachers stopped calling on him.
Except Petey.
"Hey, Prophet Boy," Petey sneered as they crossed paths in the hallway. "Seen the future lately? Still waiting for Grandpa's ghost to beam you up?"
Jackson ignored him. He always had. Petey had hated him ever since middle school-ever since the day Jackson was picked for a math competition over him. Petey never forgot, and never forgave.
Jackson turned the corner and slipped into the empty library. There was one place he hadn't searched-the old mirror in the back room, the one his grandfather always covered with a black cloth.
He never said why.
Dust coated the mirror's edges, and the cloth lay balled in a corner, as though someone else had been there recently. Jackson approached, heart pounding.
The glass didn't reflect him.
Instead, it shimmered. Like a pool of water stirred by invisible fingers.
And there it was again.
The whisper.
Clearer this time:
"Your path begins beyond the glass. Step through, Jackson. Time waits for no one."
He blinked. "What?"
The whisper answered like a sigh:
"We remember... the sight. We remember... you."
Without thinking, Jackson reached forward.
The surface rippled.
Then it pulled him in.
He didn't scream.
Didn't panic.
He just fell.
Through light.
Through shadow.
Through memory.
And when he opened his eyes, the world around him had changed.