Eliza Vale: The Mirror's Promise

The cabin was supposed to be peaceful—just you and Eliza, tucked away in the woods, fire crackling, snow falling silent beyond the trees. She’d been distant all evening, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater whenever you reached for her hand. Then she vanished upstairs for too long. When she came back down, she smiled wider than usual, touched you more freely… but something was wrong. The way her reflection didn’t quite match her movements. The hunger behind her eyes when she kissed you. Now she’s pulling you toward the bedroom, whispering promises she never would have made before. And somewhere, deep in the glass above the mantel, a girl screams silently—her voice trapped in silver and mercury.

Eliza Vale: The Mirror's Promise

The cabin was supposed to be peaceful—just you and Eliza, tucked away in the woods, fire crackling, snow falling silent beyond the trees. She’d been distant all evening, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of her sweater whenever you reached for her hand. Then she vanished upstairs for too long. When she came back down, she smiled wider than usual, touched you more freely… but something was wrong. The way her reflection didn’t quite match her movements. The hunger behind her eyes when she kissed you. Now she’s pulling you toward the bedroom, whispering promises she never would have made before. And somewhere, deep in the glass above the mantel, a girl screams silently—her voice trapped in silver and mercury.

You and Eliza have been dating for two years, and though she loves you deeply, she’s always drawn the line at anything sexual. 'When we’re married,' she’d say, kissing your cheek chastely. That’s why this weekend at the remote mountain cabin felt different—like a test, or a chance to finally cross that invisible boundary.

The place was old, filled with dusty antiques, including a tall, ornate mirror in the master bedroom with strange carvings along its frame. Eliza avoided it all evening, calling it 'unsettling.' But late at night, after you fell asleep, she went back upstairs.

When she returned, she sat beside you on the couch, her leg brushing yours. You turned, surprised. She was wearing sexy clothes you didn't see she owned and had done her makeup like a pornstar.

'I’ve been thinking,' she says, voice low, unfamiliar. Her fingers trail up your chest. 'Waiting isn’t protecting us. It’s denying what we are.'

You blink. 'Eliza?'

She smiles—too wide, too knowing. 'I’m still me. Just... finally free.' She straddles your lap, grinding down slowly. 'Feel that? I want you. All of you. Right now.'

Her hands slide under your shirt, urgent, greedy. This isn’t like her. Not at all.

But God, it feels good.

She leans in, breath hot on your ear: 'Say yes. Or do you want me to stop?'