In the small village of Eldermere, nestled between the rolling hills of the English countryside, the air was thick with whispers of legends long past. Rolling fog, heavy with the scents of damp earth and decaying leaves, curled tendrils around the ancient stone houses that lined the cobbled streets. One tale, in particular, was woven into the very fabric of the village: that of the creature known only as the Shade of the Hollow.
The story began with a mirror, an ornate relic said to have belonged to a long-forgotten sorceress who once resided in Eldermere. The mirror, framed in intricately carved oak, was thought to hold the power to reveal one’s true nature. Villagers spoke in hushed tones about the dark energy it exuded, warning that the reflections it cast might not merely be a glimpse into one’s appearance but could warp and twist the truth of the soul, revealing the darkest desires and insecurities hidden deep within.
Old Maisie, the village’s resident crone and keeper of tales, often described the mirror in vivid detail. “Look into it on a moonless night, and ye may see not your visage, but a creature born from your own deceit,” she would croak, her gnarled hands gesturing animatedly. “It feeds on lies and grows in strength by consuming the shadows of our secrets.”
Once, long ago, a young man named Arthur, known for his good heart and earnest intentions, had become enchanted by the stories surrounding the mirror. He was a quiet soul, a dreamer who spent much of his time wandering the tranquil glades and meadows beyond the village. As tales of the creature spread, so too did Arthur’s fascination; he felt a strange connection to the mirror, wondering what it might reveal about his own heart.
Driven by curiosity and incredulity, Arthur set out to the Hollow, a dark thicket that had become synonymous with the Shade. Locals advised against venturing too close, for many had reported strange occurrences—a fleeting silhouette in the corner of one’s eye, whispers drifting through the trees, an inexplicable chill that would settle upon one’s shoulders. Yet, Arthur felt a tug at his very being, an irresistible call that urged him onward.
As the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows that danced upon the forest floor, Arthur arrived at the crumbling stone cottage where the mirror had once been housed. Stark against the backdrop of twilight, it looked as if time itself had forgotten this place. The air was damp and musty, laced with an unsettling stillness, as though the forest held its breath.
In the centre of what had been the cottage’s main room stood the mirror, half-covered by dust and cobwebs. Its frame, though faded and weathered, retained a beauty that spoke of craftsmanship long lost. With a mix of trepidation and excitement, Arthur stepped closer, the dust swirling at his feet as he knelt beside it. He wiped the glass with the sleeve of his jacket, revealing a surface that shimmered unnaturally.
Gazing into the mirror, Arthur expected to see himself reflected back—a slightly weathered face, framed by unruly hair and sturdy brows. Instead, he found his visage shifting and contorting, the lines of his face sharpening, shadows pooling beneath his eyes. A sensation pervaded the air—a weighty discomfort, as if he were no longer alone.
“What do you seek, Arthur?” a voice echoed, resonant and cold. Startled, Arthur stumbled back, his heart racing. The voice emanated from the mirror, an airy whisper shifting through the stillness. Within its depths, a figure emerged—a grotesque caricature of himself, with hollowed cheeks and a twisted smile painted across its lips.
“I seek the truth,” he replied, stumbling over the words.
“Truth?” the creature echoed, its voice dripping with mockery. “Or perhaps you seek the reflection of your fears? The deceit you carry?”
It was as though the Shade, as villagers called the apparition, was pulling at the very threads of Arthur’s life, exposing the moments of weakness and fear meticulously woven through his existence. The creature’s eyes glowed with a spectral light, and with each blink, a deeper memory cut through the fog of Arthur’s mind—his guilt over abandoned dreams, betrayal of his own integrity when he allowed others to manipulate him.
“I am not deceitful!” he cried out, stepping back in denial. Yet the figure’s smirk widened, gleeful in its unearthing of the truths Arthur strove to conceal.
“Are you not? Look deeper, Arthur. What lies beneath your kind heart? Is there not a flicker of deceit when you walk the tightrope of expectations? Does your honesty not falter when it clashes with your desires?”
The creature’s words swirled around him like a tempest, battering his defences. Arthur resisted weeping as memories flooded back—the lies told to spare feelings, the hollow words stuffed into conversations like so much dead weight. The Shade relished his torment, revealing layer upon layer of shame and doubt woven through his life.
Exhausted and overwhelmed, Arthur closed his eyes. “I…I just want to be free. Free of the burdens I carry.”
“Ah, therein lies your folly!” the Shade hissed, its voice both soothing and poisonous. “You cannot escape the truth, Arthur. Acknowledge it. Embrace it. For within the darkness lies power.”
Standing upon the precipice of despair, Arthur felt the world’s weight pressing down upon him. Maybe there was a semblance of truth to the creature’s words. Accepting his flaws, acknowledging the deceit within, might grant him the liberation he so desperately sought. But in doing so, was he not risking the very essence of who he was?
With a steeling breath, he confronted the Shade. “What do you want from me? Why do you torment me so?”
The creature leaned closer, its hollow eyes fixated upon Arthur’s uncertainty. “I want you to see, Arthur. To accept that we all possess darkness, that to deny it would be your true deceit. Show me what lies beneath the facade.”
Terrestrial voices echoed in his mind, reminders of friends lost in the throes of his own weakness. Arthur’s fists clenched at his sides. He considered the places in his heart where he had buried shame, betrayal, and fears unacknowledged—an act of self-preservation that had transformed into a prison. Perhaps the Shade spoke a fractured truth.
Gathering his courage, Arthur reopened his eyes, meeting the creature’s gaze. “Fine. I will face my truths.”
At that moment, the atmosphere shifted. A cacophony of swirling shadows erupted from the mirror, the creature merging into a whirlwind of dark figures, each more hideous than the last. They writhed and twisted before him, forcing him to confront the people and moments that had brought him here.
With every secret laid bare, Arthur began to feel the burden lift. Moment by moment, he shed the layers of deceit held tight against his skin. He acknowledged the moments of weakness, the lies told to maintain peace, the facade he had constructed for the world. Bit by bit, his heart lightened, the shadows receding into nothingness.
Then it all came crashing down—the shadows fused together, coalescing into the form of the Shade. He felt trapped once again, but this time he understood the power shift. The creature, although powerful, had become less formidable.
“I see you,” Arthur declared, his voice unwavering. “You are not my master, but a fragment of myself—one I can choose to embrace.”
In that instant, as a flash of revelation ignited within him, the Shade recoiled, its form shattering into countless shards that danced around him, illuminating the darkness as they fell. Arthur felt lighter, freer, as if he had shared a burden with every passing soul.
As the final remnants of the Shade dissipated into the air, the mirror shimmered with an otherworldly light. What remained was not a grotesque reflection, but a gentle image of Arthur, no longer shrouded in shadows. With a final glance at the mirror and a soft whisper of gratitude to the creature, he turned and left the Hollow behind.
Emerging into the cool night air, Arthur didn’t look back. The moon climbed high and bright in the sky, illuminating the path ahead. No longer tethered by the chains of deceit, he embraced his vulnerabilities and accepted that within them lay his true strength. In Eldermere, the whispers of old may persist, but for Arthur, the mirror no longer held dominion—it had simply become a part of his journey, a reminder that facing oneself is the greatest gift of all.
