Overlapping Mirror Shadows, Entwined Souls

I inherited my great-aunt’s old Republic-era mansion. The antique mirror in the study keeps showing visions of death.

Every reflection shows me being strangled to death.

The old butler says, “This mirror only reflects what it has seen.”

I begin searching the mansion for traces of another “me.”

Then one night, the power goes out, and I see my reflection turn its head with my own eyes:

“Run. She’s right behind you.”

I whip around and see a pair of eyes exactly like mine.

“Found you,” she says, her cold fingers touching my neck. “This time, it’s your turn.”