Kacper uncovers a hidden room in an old library and finds a mirror that seems to open onto another world, pulling him and Lila toward something neither of them can explain.
To Kacper, the old town library had always seemed stubbornly ordinary. Dusty shelves leaned under the weight of forgotten books, and the stained-glass windows broke the afternoon light into dull red and blue patches across the floor. Still, it was the one place where he and Lila could disappear for hours, trading theories, half-finished jokes, and plans that had no place in the grey streets outside.
That afternoon, Kacper was hunting for an old atlas in the side corridor when he noticed a narrow door tucked between two cases of ledgers. He was sure it had not been there before. The brass handle was cold and rough under his fingers, and for a moment it refused to move. Then, with a sharp squeal, the latch gave way.
The room beyond was small enough to feel hidden on purpose. A huge mirror stood on the far wall, trapped in an ornate silver frame that looked older than the building itself. Its surface was unnervingly clear, like still water held upright.
"That has to be the oldest thing in here," Lila whispered, coming up behind him. She reached out and brushed the frame. At once, the light in the room seemed to thin. The mirror flickered with a cold blue shimmer, and Kacper took an instinctive step back.
Lila did not.
Her face was fixed on the glass. "Do you see that?"
Kacper looked harder. The library had vanished from the reflection. In its place stretched a maze of pale paths under a sky crowded with floating points of light, as if stars had been trapped just above the ground. Then his own reflection shifted. It was still him, almost. The same clothes, the same height. But the figure in the mirror lifted its head a second too late, and its eyes glowed blue.
Kacper's throat tightened.
Before he could speak, the mirror flared white. A low vibration rolled through the room, deep enough to make the floor tremble under his shoes. Lila's hand hung in the air, inches from the glass, as if something on the other side had just taken hold of her wrist.
"Kacper," she said, without looking away, "I think it's pulling us in."
The whisper came again, clearer this time, sliding out from somewhere inside the mirror, soft as breath against glass...