My name is Ellen. Once, I played a prank on my love in the sky.
She didn’t find it funny.
As punishment, I was cast down to Earth—trapped as a ghost, bound to wander until the sun burns out. That was a long time ago.
Now, I watch people. I follow them. I see them grow, suffer, die. I see places I once loved crumble to dust. But I can’t speak. I can’t touch. And when someone is gone, they are gone forever.
I don’t know if you’re reading this before I vanish, or after. Either way, I know one thing for certain:
We will never meet.
But this story isn’t about me. This is the story of Caruncle Periwinkle.
That day, the air felt wrong. Not just heavy—thick, suffocating.
Caruncle sat at the dining hall table, staring at the gray sky through a grime-covered window. The walls were stained, the floor dusty, everything worn down like it had been forgotten by time.
At noon, he usually met with Evelyn, Valentin, Felicity, and Percival. They had no classes at this hour, so they gathered to eat and talk.
And I sat at the top of the table, watching. They never minded me.
“You know, I’ve been reading Maxwell McAbe lately,” Percival said, stirring his tea.
“Oh really?” Evelyn asked. “How is it?”
“I’m still waiting for him to convince me. People say he’s one-note, but once his books fall into place, they’re… alluring.”
“I’d agree,” Valentin said. “Someone once told me to read him while listening to Brid Jewele. The result is… interesting.”
“Oh, do you have one of those phonographs?” Evelyn asked, perking up.
“Indeed I do. Quite the invention.”
“I can’t wrap my head around it,” Percival admitted. “I’ve studied how they work, but it’s still practically magic.”
“Where does the music come from?” Felicity asked.
Something about her expression always bothered me.
“They record it somehow,” Percival said. “It’s stored in a thing—a plate, I think. If you put it on a phonograph, it plays back the sound.”
“I see,” Felicity mused. “But how does it move on its own?”
“There’s a spring mechanism. Some kind of engine.”
“An engine?”
“Yes.”
Evelyn leaned in. “Wait, you said they store music on something? What’s it called?”
“Forgot.” Percival frowned. “I saw one the other day. A black plate. You put a needle on it, and that’s how it plays the sound.”
“And you don’t remember the name?” Felicity asked.
“No.”
“What about you, Caruncle?” Evelyn turned to him. The others followed, waiting for a response.
Caruncle sat completely still.
His eyes—hollow.
His voice—a whisper.
“…It’s the same thing.”
“What did you say?” Evelyn frowned.
“It’s the same thing,” he repeated, a little louder. “The same thing.”
The same thing.
Valentin scowled.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” Caruncle muttered, scratching his head. His eyes were glued to the table. “I apologize, I just… the phonograph reminded me of something. And these coincidences—” he exhaled sharply, swiping a hand over his forehead as if wiping off sweat. “They keep piling up.”
“And we’re uneasy with your babbling,” Valentin cut in, voice sharp. His gaze flickered across the table—briefly meeting mine. A cold, crawling sensation ran down my spine.
“If you’re going to say something, say it. Otherwise, shut the hell up.”
“Please,” Evelyn sighed. “We don’t need another argument right now.”
“Let him talk,” Valentin insisted. “I want to hear this nonsense.”
“As exhausting as Caruncle’s rambling is,” Felicity added, crossing her arms, “your whining is worse.”
Percival and Felicity exchanged glances, watching the tension build. Then Felicity leaned forward, voice softer but no less pressing.
“You know, Caruncle, Valentin has a point,” she said. “You clearly have something to say, so say it. Keeping things bottled up hasn’t done you any good.”
Caruncle didn’t look at her. He didn’t look at anyone.
“I’d agree,” Percival said. “And I know you don’t want to hear this from me again, but my offer still stands. If you ever need—”
Caruncle finally looked up.
Valentin sat back, arms crossed. Felicity’s gaze flickered with pity, maybe even irritation. Evelyn and Percival just looked worried.
“I’ve been thinking about how to say this for a while,” Caruncle admitted, shifting his gaze back to the floor. “I… I’m not sure how to explain it.”
“Then get to the point,” Valentin snapped.
“Valentin,” Evelyn shot him a glare.
“I just need him to say it. I don’t have all day.”
“Please, quiet.”
Caruncle’s fingers curled into his sleeve.
“I don’t even know how to explain it,” he admitted.
“Why?” Felicity asked. “What’s so hard to say?”
“Because what happened to me—” He hesitated. “It hasn’t happened to anyone else. There’s nothing I can compare it to.”
“Then just say it. Stop going in circles,” Valentin groaned, rubbing his temples.
Caruncle smirked, shaking his head. “For fuck’s sake.”
“What?”
Felicity raised her hand. “Caruncle, if you’re not going to speak, then let’s move on. But I’d rather not hear you say we didn’t give you the chance later.”
“Okay, okay,” he exhaled, shaking his leg. I moved closer—his heart was hammering so hard I could feel it from here.
“You see, there’s a memory… I don’t know, it was like a dream.”
The smirk was gone.
Caruncle looked at them. All of them. Watching. Waiting. So he looked back down and kept going.
“A dream?” Felicity raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know if it was a dream.” Caruncle’s voice dropped lower. “But when I was a kid… I saw a mirror.”
“Where?” Felicity asked.
“Look, I don’t remember where I was,” he said, irritated. “But I remember the mirror. It had this liquid coating over it. If you made a loud sound in front of it, the surface would ripple—like water.”
Valentin whispered something to Percival. I caught the words not in the mood before Caruncle kept talking.
“I got curious, so I reached for it.” His hands trembled slightly. “I… touched it. And it was cold. Thick and cold.”
He stopped.
No one spoke.
“Go on,” Evelyn said softly, reaching for his hand. Her grip was warm, careful—not exasperated like the others.
Caruncle swallowed hard, staring at their fingers as if he wasn’t sure how they got there.
“I got scared,” he admitted. “So I tried to pull my hand out.”
A deep inhale.
Another glance at his hands. At his legs. Like he was searching for something.
“But I… I couldn’t.”
His voice was barely a whisper now.
“I couldn’t pull it out.”
“You couldn’t get it out?” Felicity leaned in, her eyes narrowing. “As in, was the mirror hollow? Did it have something inside?”
“Yes, like a first aid kit?” Percival added.
“No, not at all.” Caruncle bit his lip before continuing. “I said it had a liquid coating over it. When I first stuck my hand inside, it was like… molasses.”
Felicity raised an eyebrow. “Why the hell would you put your hand in molasses trapped in a mirror?”
“I—look, I don’t remember why—”
“You’re scared to even go outside, and you’re telling us you stuck your hand into some phantom inside a mirror?” Valentin wasn’t even angry anymore. Just tired.
“Just let me finish.” Caruncle rubbed his forehead like he was wiping sweat off, but his skin was dry. His face, however, was burning. “At first, I panicked. I panicked. I tried to pull my arm out, but it wouldn’t budge. So I grabbed my wrist with my other hand and pulled as hard as I could.”
“And?” Felicity asked.
“It didn’t work.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Right.”
Caruncle’s fingers dug into his sleeve. “Then… the mirror started pulling me in.”
“What?”
“It pulled me in.”
“You mean you fell through it?” Percival scratched his head, rolling his eyes.
“Yes. And when I came out the other side, I was in a bathroom.”
“You said you didn’t know where you were,” Felicity pointed out.
“I don’t. But I remember the bathroom.”
“What did it look like? Any windows? What material were the walls?”
“They were… green.”
“Green?”
“Yes.” Caruncle’s voice wavered. “But that wasn’t what scared me.”
Percival sighed. “I don’t think green bathroom walls should be terrifying.”
Felicity burst into laughter. The others chuckled along, even Evelyn. Caruncle scowled, looking away, his face burning hotter.
“Alright, alright,” Percival said, still smirking. “What was scarier than your spooky bathroom walls?”
Caruncle inhaled.
“Everything was mirrored.”
Silence.
He finally looked back at them.
“The door that had been on my left was now on my right. The tarnished window—switched sides. The bathtub. Everything.”
They stared at him.
“And then?” Percival finally asked.
“Yes, did you wake up?” Valentin’s smirk returned, mocking.
“I don’t think I did.” Caruncle’s voice was shaking now. “Because ever since then, everything looks… off. Like it’s still mirrored.”
“Sounds like it must be hell trying to read,” Valentin muttered. The table laughed.
Caruncle didn’t.
“Well, that’s what happened,” he said flatly. His gaze dropped to the table. “I don’t know if it was a dream or not.”
He turned away from them, but then—hesitantly—glanced back at Evelyn. At the others.
“Everything looks weird. Unfamiliar but the same. It’s so… uncanny. I hate it. And I can’t leave. I can’t… leave this place.”
His fists clenched under the table. He made sure no one could see.
“Leave?” Valentin narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean, ‘leave’?”
“How long ago was this?” Percival murmured. “Eight years?”
“Wait—what happened eight years ago?” Felicity leaned forward.
“That’s when Caruncle fell into a well.”
Felicity blinked. Then snorted. Then—
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She burst into full-blown laughter.
“Wait, wait.” She clutched her stomach. “You fell into a well? How? How does that even happen?!”
“He got a bad fever,” Valentin smirked. “Broke his arm. Had to stay in bed for weeks.” He tilted his head. “Honestly, I think he broke his brain too.”
Felicity howled. Evelyn pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a giggle.
Caruncle sat there. Silent. Scowling.
But inside his mind, the well replayed.
No. No. No, please—no.
I had found him crying at the bottom of that well.
I was wandering through town, looking for someone to observe, when I heard him sobbing from far away.
When I reached the well, he was thrashing. Punching at the stone walls.
Fourteen years old. Trapped. Chest-deep in filthy water. Bleeding.
“Uh—” Percival had peered down, trying not to laugh. “You’ll have to wait a bit. We’ll get a rope.” Then he walked away.
Caruncle gasped through his teeth, trying to keep himself together. But he was losing it. Hyperventilating. Shaking.
That was weird to me.
I had seen him fall into this well before. But last time, he hadn’t cried. I looked into his thoughts. And what I saw surprised me. So I followed him. Just because I was bored.
“Caruncle, don’t you think,” Percival began, leaning forward, “that maybe it was just a dream? You spent days mumbling in your sleep. You looked awful.”
“He’s really let some dream mess up his head,” Valentin snorted, glancing at Felicity. Evelyn scowled, but he didn’t acknowledge her.
Caruncle, however, grinned.
“Oh, you want to know what’s really been messing with me?”
Valentin rolled his eyes. “Not particularly.”
“Oh, you know,” Caruncle said, voice light, “just a couple of books I’ve been reading.”
“Like what?”
“The Randolph Suchet Chronicles.”
Valentin’s smirk disappeared.
His body stiffened. His lips pressed into a hard line.
Caruncle watched, pleased.
“Ever heard of them, Valentin?” His voice was mocking now. “Fascinating books. And there’s something… especially interesting about them.”
Felicity glanced between them. “What the hell are the Randolph Suchet Chronicles?”
“They’re satire novels,” Evelyn answered, “circulating through Lucinian underground presses. They criticize the Basilian Dominion. The books are banned. Distribution is getting riskier—especially with the ongoing investigation into the authors.”
Felicity turned back to Caruncle. “And you’re reading that why?”
“Oh, I haven’t read that much.” Caruncle smiled. “Just heard about them.” He turned back to Valentin. “Supposedly, the Dominion executed the author. People say a rebellion might break out.” His voice was casual. “What do you think, Valentin?”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Valentin muttered. “I haven’t read them.”
“Oh, really?” Caruncle’s grin widened. “That’s odd.”
“And I think you’re messed up in the head.” Valentin pushed back his chair. “I’m leaving.”
Caruncle’s eye twitched.
“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He scratched his cheek. “Coward.”
Valentin stopped.
Percival caught his arm before he could storm off. “Come on. Let’s just breathe. No one’s trying to start a fight.”
Valentin yanked his arm back, but he stayed.
“I’d be careful around him, Evelyn,” he muttered. “You don’t know what he’s capable of.”
Evelyn frowned. “What does that mean?”
Caruncle cut in before he could answer. “Nothing. He’s just being an idiot.” He went to bite his nails, but Evelyn grabbed his hand, stopping him.
Felicity turned to Valentin. “Is there something about you that we don’t know?”
Valentin folded his arms. “Caruncle’s just trying to piss me off.”
“I just wanted to rattle him,” Caruncle admitted. “I know he doesn’t like those books.”
Percival sighed. “And what did you expect to accomplish by bringing them up?”
Caruncle leaned back. “I know what he’s afraid of.”
“Oh?” Percival tilted his head. “And what would that be?”
Caruncle shrugged. “I feel like a rebellion is coming soon.”
“You feel?” Felicity repeated flatly. “And what, exactly, gave you this feeling?”
“The air is different,” Caruncle said. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but the whole town feels… off.”
Percival exhaled sharply through his nose. “You’re hiding something.”
Caruncle froze.
“I—I…” He glanced at Valentin. The same scowl. The same stiffness. “I can’t tell you. Not yet.”
“How convenient.”
Caruncle hesitated.
He wanted to say it. Wanted to tell someone close to him. Anyone.
But something in his mind screamed, don’t.
“I—maybe it was just a dream.” He swallowed. “Like you all said.”
Evelyn’s grip on his hand tightened. “What was it?”
Caruncle exhaled.
“My memory of the mirror.”
Silence.
“Did you see something through the mirror?” Felicity pressed. “Is that why you’re saying all this?”
“…Yes.”
Everyone stared at him now.
“On the other side,” Caruncle murmured, “you learn a lot of things.”
Felicity narrowed her eyes. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
Percival studied him for a long moment.
“I don’t know what you’re trying to accomplish with all this,” he finally said.
Caruncle looked him straight in the eye. “I remember a man named Alcairo.”
Percival’s breath hitched.
He covered it with a cough.
“Caruncle?” Evelyn shook his arm.
He blinked. “What?”
“If you know something, you should tell us.”
Caruncle looked down at the table.
The others waited.
The silence dragged.
Finally, he spoke.
“…We should leave.”
“Leave?”
“We should move to Leyva or Salento while we still can.”
Percival scoffed. “For what purpose? Leyva is occupied by the Dominion. If a rebellion is coming, things won’t be any better there.”
Evelyn crossed her arms. “Salento is out of the question, too. You know where I come from.”
“If you think war is coming, we should stay and fight,” Percival said.
They both turned to Caruncle.
Felicity and Valentin remained silent.
“…”
“Caruncle?”
He didn’t answer.
Evelyn frowned. “Why wouldn’t we stay?”
Caruncle exhaled slowly. “What’s even the point?”
Valentin scoffed. “You’re pathetic. You think this is some kind of game?”
“I’m not playing any games.”
“Then say what you know.”
Caruncle raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you haven’t noticed?”
“Noticed what?”
“This morning,” Caruncle said, leaning forward, “you saw our father talking to someone. Did you see who that was?”
Valentin’s jaw tensed.
I didn’t need to read his mind to know he had.
It had been early—raining. Hard to see. But he’d caught a glimpse of a man in a brown, tattered cloak. Their father had been tense, speaking in hushed tones, glancing around as if he expected someone to be watching.
“You know what he’s up to,” Caruncle continued, voice low. “That’s what this is really about.”
Valentin clenched his fists. “If you know something, don’t spoon-feed me scraps. Just say it.”
Felicity sighed loudly, tilting her head back. “Are we still on this?”
Percival checked his watch.
Evelyn was already pushing back her chair.
The conversation had gone in circles for too long.
Caruncle watched them with a dry smile. “So, you’d rather ignore it?”
Valentin’s chair scraped against the floor as he shoved himself to his feet.
“No,” he snapped. “What I’m ignoring is you. You sit here acting strange for weeks. You talk in riddles. You know something, but instead of telling us, you play this stupid game—like we need to beg you for it. Do you know how exhausting you are?”
Felicity stood up as well, adjusting her dress. She glanced around, checking if anyone was watching, but the dining hall had emptied out.
Percival and Evelyn stayed seated.
Caruncle, for once, was silent.
Valentin folded his arms. “So? Are you going to talk?”
Caruncle finally looked up at him. “If I do… then you have to help me.”
Valentin stared at him, incredulous. “Help you? Help you with what?”
Caruncle didn’t answer.
Valentin’s face twisted in frustration. “Are we not family? Isn’t that enough? You know something, and yet you refuse to speak. You demand something in return, but you won’t even say what you want. You go in circles, and you expect anything to happen that way?”
Caruncle’s throat bobbed.
“Because if I tell you,” he murmured, “you’ll stop seeing me as family at all.”
Valentin blinked.
Then, slowly, his expression hardened.
“I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean,” he muttered. “And I’m not playing this charade any longer.”
Silence.
The two brothers stared at each other.
Finally, Percival stood. Evelyn clapped her hands lightly.
“Alright,” she said, voice crisp. “We’re done here. This conversation should continue later, somewhere private. Percival, may we use your residence tonight?”
Percival hesitated. “Well…” He glanced at the ceiling. He always did that when he was stalling.
I could have looked into his thoughts.
But I’d stopped checking his mind a long time ago.
“…Yes,” he finally said. “That should be fine.”
Evelyn nodded. “Then we’ll meet tonight. If the conversation runs past midnight, we’ll stay over. Agreed?”
Neither of the brothers answered.
Evelyn turned toward Valentin. “Will you be coming?”
He barely spared her a glance.
“I’m not in the mood for games.”
Evelyn exhaled sharply. “This is serious.”
Valentin pushed past them, walking toward the exit.
“You’d better talk tonight,” he muttered.
And then he was gone.
The others exchanged quiet goodbyes, heading toward their classrooms.
I didn’t bother following.
