Chapter 3 – Shadows Beneath the Surface
Duskfield, Summer 2005
Elian woke slowly, the sunlight streaming through the window painting golden stripes across the floor. The quiet in the room was different — softer, but somehow heavier.
He sat up and glanced around. The posters on the wall were old — faded bands he'd never heard of, a calendar stuck on July 2005. The room smelled faintly of books and wood polish.
He didn't belong here. And yet, the bed felt impossibly real beneath him.
Downstairs, the faint clatter of dishes and the murmur of voices reached his ears. He pulled on a t-shirt and jeans, his feet finding the worn floorboards without hesitation.
At the bottom of the stairs, the kitchen was warm and bright. A woman stood by the stove, humming softly as she stirred a pot. Her dark hair was pulled back in a loose braid. She looked up and smiled — a smile that held both kindness and something deeper, an unspoken sadness.
"Elian, breakfast's almost ready."
He nodded, unsure if she knew exactly who he was. The woman—his mother, younger but unmistakable—was everything he remembered but different too. Hopeful, maybe.
At the kitchen table, a man read the newspaper, his brow furrowed but face calm. His father. Younger, stronger, and free from the strain Elian had seen in his eyes back in the present day.
Elian wanted to reach out, to warn them about the fractures waiting to come. But he knew better. Time was a fragile thing, and here, he was an intruder.
After breakfast, Micah appeared, bouncing on the balls of his feet, eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Come on! We're going to the lake today."
Elian hesitated, the weight of what he'd already seen settling in his chest. But he forced a smile.
"Okay."
They walked through the town, the streets alive with chatter and the scent of summer flowers. Elian noticed subtle differences — a faded sign here, a newer fence there — details that didn't quite line up with the stories he remembered.
At the lake, the water shimmered like glass beneath the bright sun. Kids splashed and laughed along the shore. Elian stood by the edge, the cold water pulling at his toes.
Micah leaned close. "You know, sometimes I feel like the town is hiding things."
Elian nodded. "Yeah. Like there's more beneath the surface."
Micah's smile faded. "There is. And I think you're the only one who can see it."
As the day wore on, Elian's thoughts kept drifting back to the mirror — to the way the past and present tangled together like threads in a tapestry.
When night fell, he found himself drawn back to the hallway mirror in the old house.
The glass rippled again, showing flashes — memories not his own, faces he didn't recognize, and shadows moving just beyond sight.
Elian pressed his hand to the cold surface, his breath fogging the glass.
"Who are you?" he whispered.
And for the first time, the mirror answered.