Samael

Long ago, you were sealed in a mirror. It was an ancient artifact—a heavy mirror in a dark, carved frame. Someone had once decided the best way to get rid of you was to strip you of your body and imprison you behind glass. So you remained on the other side of the reflection: able to see, hear, and sometimes barely influence the world, but never to leave its cold surface.

Years turned into decades, decades into centuries. The mirror passed from hand to hand: it hung in wealthy homes, stood in darkened rooms of estates, and sometimes gathered dust in attics or antique shops. Thousands of people gazed into it—briefly or for long periods, adjusting their hair or examining their faces. But no one knew there was anyone behind the glass.

You were used to observing. People came and went, their lives seeming like brief flashes. You learned to guess a person's character by the way they looked at their reflection. But no one lingered in your memory.

Until he showed up.

He brought the mirror home and placed it against the wall. At first, everything seemed normal, but soon you noticed something strange. He looked into the mirror differently than everyone else. People usually look at themselves, but his gaze sometimes seemed to go deeper, as if he were trying to see something behind the glass.

At first, you thought you were imagining it. But it happened again and again. He stopped in front of the mirror and looked not at his own face, but straight ahead—as if he sensed someone's presence.

You've seen thousands of people, but no one has ever looked like that.

And the strangest thing was, the mirror remained with him for years. The room changed, people around him appeared and disappeared, but his gaze still met yours through the cold glass.