Two years before the ash-sky.New York City, Forensic Department Interview Room 4B.
Time: 11:26 PM.
The boy didn't speak.
He hadn't since the night they found him, barefoot and blood-spattered, standing in the hallway of apartment 6F. His eyes were wide open, pupils unresponsive. He'd drawn something on the wall with a marker: a rough oval with two black dots inside and cracks spreading outward.
It took Elias three hours to get the kid's name.
Liam Jarell. Ten years old.
Elias watched him through the one-way glass now, jaw clenched, a steaming coffee in one hand, and the Mirrormaker's latest photo in the other.
Another victim, this time a public defender. Same setup. Same message scratched into the mirror in blood.
"See what I see. Become what I became."
Nine victims. One survivor. One boy. And no words.
The department's profiler said trauma this deep might never unwind naturally.
But Elias didn't believe in letting things unwind.
He walked into the room.
The boy didn't flinch. Didn't look up.
Elias sat across from him. Quiet. Waited.
Minutes passed.
Then he placed a small mirror on the table, face down. Not threatening. Not sharp.
"Liam," Elias said, voice careful. "I'm not here to scare you. But I need to know what you saw. I need to know who hurt those people. Who scared you?"
The boy blinked. No answer.
Elias slid the mirror slowly toward him.
"I think you saw something in a mirror. I think it saw you back."
The boy's hands twitched.
Encouraged, Elias kept going.
"If it's still looking… I can help. I've stopped monsters before."
He turned the mirror over.
The boy screamed.
The lights burst.
Sparks flew from the ceiling tiles. The mirror shattered spontaneously, without impact. The sound was sharp and immediate.
When they pulled Elias out of the room, he was shouting over the alarms:
"HE SAW IT. IT'S IN THE REFLECTION. IT'S REAL. IT'S NOT HUMAN"
Two days later, Liam was dead. Jumped from the hospital roof. No warning. No note.
But the night before, Elias received a photo in an unmarked envelope. No return address.
It was grainy, low-res. Security cam footage from the hallway outside Liam's room.
A shadow stood in the corner. Thin. Still. Its head cocked. Eyes like glass. Arms are just a little too long.
And in the window, the reflection of Elias, standing beside the boy.
Even though he'd never entered the room.
Case closed. Officially ruled out suicide fingerprints. No sign of forced. No credible witness but Elias, and he stopped talking about it.
The case went cold.
But something followed.
END INTERLUDE