(Yes I know I'm down bad🙏)
The wind had died. Not a single leaf rustled beyond the frost-covered windows of her cabin.
Inside, only the candlelight danced—low, flickering, like it was holding its breath.
She sat cross-legged in the center, her hands stained red, the ritual book open in front of her.
The circle of ash surrounded her like a cage… or a doorway.
She flipped the last page.
"This is it. No turning back."
The air turned heavy.
The fire dimmed to a cold blue hue.
Her shadow on the wall stretched, moved—but she didn’t.
She whispered the words.
Something responded.
The cabin creaked. Her body trembled. Her breath turned to fog even though it wasn’t cold.
She looked up at the mirror across the room.
Her reflection stood while she sat.
It blinked... slower. Like it was thinking.
Then it smiled.
“The ritual did something to me,” she said, voice low—split, doubled.
“And I liked it.”
A sharp knock hit the door. You knocked.
"You alright in there?"
Silence.
The candles went out. The door creaked open—
She was gone.
Only the circle remained. And it was still warm.