The Shadow Beneath the Lamp

Li An's breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The room felt like it was closing in on her, the shadows in the mirrors twisting, reaching for her with unseen hands. The whispering voice, now a constant presence, reverberated in her ears, its words slicing through her mind like jagged shards of glass. It was as if the darkness itself had come alive, pushing against her, suffocating her, forcing her to confront something she wasn't ready to face.

You've already made your choice. There is no turning back now.

The reflection in the mirror had faded, but its words stayed with her, looping in her mind, refusing to let her go. Every inch of the room seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as though it was alive—alive with a terrible, knowing presence.

Li An stumbled backward, her pulse thundering in her chest. The cold, oppressive air seemed to cling to her skin, making every movement feel heavier than the last. She was trapped. There was no escape. The walls pressed in from all sides, the shadows casting strange, distorted shapes that seemed to shift with every blink. It was as if she was caught in a nightmarish hallucination, one that wouldn't let her wake up.

No... She thought, her fingers trembling as they grazed the edges of the nearest mirror. I can't let it win. I can't let myself fall apart.

But even as she said it, doubt crept into her heart. What if the darkness was her? What if the twisted reflection in the mirror was the truth she had been running from all along? What if, buried deep inside her, there was no light, only this unrelenting, suffocating shadow?

The air grew colder, the temperature dropping so rapidly that she could see her breath, swirling in front of her like mist. A low hum reverberated through the room, and for a moment, Li An thought she heard something else—another voice, faint, like the flutter of a page turning.

The whispering voice from before returned, but this time, it wasn't just a whisper. It was a laugh, soft and mocking, curling around her like smoke.

"Do you feel it now, Li An? Do you feel the weight of your choices? Your sins? It's all around you. You can't escape it. It's a part of you, as much as the air you breathe."

Her head spun. Her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. She pressed her palms against the wall, desperately trying to ground herself, but the world around her felt as though it were slipping through her fingers, disintegrating into chaos.

She closed her eyes, trying to block out the noise, the disorienting sense of being pulled in every direction. She forced herself to breathe slowly, trying to steady the frantic beating of her heart. She had to focus. She had to think.

Focus... She repeated in her mind. I'm here to find the truth. Not to lose myself in this nightmare.

Her hands still pressed against the cold wall, she could feel a slight shift, like the room was shifting with her touch. Something in the darkness beyond the mirrors stirred. For a moment, Li An felt as though she were standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable—like the room itself was the tip of a much deeper, darker well, one that stretched far beneath her feet, waiting to swallow her whole.

And then, in the silence, she heard it again.

A whisper. A soft, almost imperceptible sound.

"Help me."

The voice was strained, desperate, as though it was coming from somewhere deep inside the house. It was faint—almost too faint to hear—but it was clear enough. Li An's heart skipped a beat. The voice... it sounded like Zhang Xian. Was it really him? Had he somehow found a way to communicate with her, to call out to her from wherever he was trapped?

Without thinking, Li An's body moved on its own, driven by the desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, she could find him, save him, before it was too late.

She turned and sprinted toward the source of the voice, her mind no longer entirely her own. The walls seemed to blur, the mirrors fading into the background as she ran. Every step she took felt like it was pulling her deeper into the heart of this nightmarish world—yet she couldn't stop. She had to go to him. She had to—

Another whisper. Louder this time.

"Help me. It's your fault. You brought me here."

Li An's feet faltered. The words were sharp, jagged, cutting through her with a vicious clarity. She stopped dead in her tracks, her breath caught in her throat.

The voice—the familiar voice—was no longer just a plea for help. It was an accusation. A cold, condemning accusation.

It's your fault.

Her stomach churned. Her head reeled. The guilt... the weight of those words—those truths—pressed down on her like an unbearable weight. She had brought Zhang Xian into this. She had led him down this path, into this web of lies and shadows. And now, as the voice of her past came crashing into her mind, she understood.

She had always known. The truth was always there, just beneath the surface. She had known the danger, the risk, the cost. But she had chosen to ignore it. Chosen to believe that she could control everything.

And now, this—this nightmare—was the price.

Her body trembled, and for a moment, she couldn't tell if it was fear or guilt or both that made her legs shake. Her hand reached out again, gripping the wall, needing something to hold on to as she felt herself slipping away.

The shadows in the room stretched farther than they ever had before, creeping up the walls, whispering, curling, as if they were alive. The mirrors were no longer just reflections—they were gateways, portals into something far worse. They no longer showed her just her face. They showed her everything she had tried to bury, every fear she had tried to suppress.

And in the darkest corner of the room, one mirror gleamed brighter than the rest. It reflected not her face, but something else—something more terrible.

Her own eyes, wide and full of fear, staring back at her, but this time, they weren't hers. They were someone else's—someone she knew all too well.

Zhang Xian.

"You did this to me."

His voice, cold and final, rang out through the room, and Li An felt the world crumble around her.