Part 1
The mahogany desk, polished to a mirror sheen, gleamed under the soft glow of Ebony Washington’s office lamp. Behind her, the city skyline stretched, a testament to her meticulous work as a Senior Historic Preservation Analyst at Apex Commercial. Each building she helped save from demolition, each district she championed, was a silent victory against a past she rarely spoke of, a past spent navigating the unpredictability of foster care.
A sharp rap on her door pulled her from her thoughts.
“Delivery for Washington,” a voice announced through the frosted glass.
Ebony pushed her chair back, the soft leather sighing beneath her. She opened the door to find a young intern, sweat beading on his forehead, struggling with a large, oddly shaped package wrapped in thick brown paper and bubble wrap.
“This came for you, Ebony,” he panted, setting it down with a thud that vibrated through the floorboards. “Special handling. Heavy.”
“Thank you, David,” Ebony said, a small smile touching her lips. “You can leave it right there.”
The intern nodded, relieved, and quickly retreated, eager to escape the mid-afternoon rush of deliveries.
Ebony closed the door, her gaze falling upon the package. She knew what it was. Her grandmother, gone five months now, had left explicit instructions for this to be delivered to Ebony’s office, not her home. An heirloom.
She carefully unwrapped the layers of protection, the crinkling paper echoing in the quiet office. Inside, nestled amongst more tissue paper, was a large, ornate bronze mirror. Its frame was intricately carved, depicting swirling vines and mythical creatures, darkened with centuries of patina. The glass, though old, reflected her face with startling clarity.
It wasn’t a practical piece, certainly not for an office, but it held a deep personal significance. Her grandmother had always told stories of its unique history, stories Ebony had dismissed as folklore. Now, holding it, a strange sense of weight settled in her hands, heavier than its actual mass.
She propped it against a stack of architectural blueprints on her desk, admiring the craftsmanship. The smooth, cool bronze felt ancient, humming with a silent energy. She leaned closer, her reflection staring back, a perfectly composed professional in a tailored suit.
Then, the reflection shifted.
Not her face, but the mirror itself seemed to ripple, like water disturbed by an unseen force. The polished bronze frame shimmered, and the glass grew hazy, then shockingly clear, revealing something else entirely.
The office, the city outside—all vanished.
Instead, Ebony saw her beloved historic district, the very heart of the city she fought to preserve, engulfed in a terrifying inferno. Flames licked at the facades of the century-old brick buildings, smoke plumed into a dark, suffocating sky. The elegant wrought-iron balconies melted and twisted, collapsing with sickening crunches.
She saw the familiar clock tower, its hands stuck at an impossible time, surrounded by a ring of fire. The air in the mirror’s reflection pulsed with heat, the acrid smell of burning wood and melting asphalt stinging her nostrils, even though she was still in her cool, quiet office.
A figure moved through the chaos, silhouetted against the orange glow of the blaze. They wore a long, dark coat, hood pulled low, but the way they moved, the confident stride, was instantly recognizable. Her heart seized in her chest.
The figure paused, turning slightly. The hood slipped back just enough, and Ebony’s breath hitched. A face, illuminated by the hellish light of the inferno, sharp and determined.
Nia Hollis.
Her best friend. Her closest work confidante, the lead developer on Apex Commercial’s biggest projects. Nia, holding a flickering match, a chilling smile playing on her lips, watching the district burn. The vision seared into Ebony’s mind, a future less than twenty-four hours away.
The mirror image flickered, then snapped back to her own horrified reflection, the flames replaced by the mundane fluorescent lights of her office. The heat vanished, replaced by a sudden, bone-chilling cold. The smell of smoke gone, leaving only the faint scent of polished wood and old metal.
Ebony stumbled backward, knocking against her chair, the ancient bronze mirror threatening to topple. She caught it, her hands trembling, the metal now feeling scorching hot against her skin. The polished glass stared back at her, innocent and silent, yet screaming with the horror it had just shown.
The office door, without warning, swung open.
Part 2
Nia Hollis stood in the doorway, a friendly smile on her face.
“Ebony, good news,” she said, striding in.
She slapped a thick stack of papers onto the desk, right beside the antique mirror.
“Just some quick paperwork for the historic block. Standard non-disclosure for all lead associates involved in the new valuation.” Her smile tightened, losing its warmth. “Sign the intake receipt, and let’s get you briefed. Any issues, and it’s a breach of contract.”
Ebony’s gaze fell to the top page: a binding legal injunction. This wasn’t good news. This was an immediate career-ending ultimatum.
+ There are no comments
Add yours