They say that reflections are the shadows of truth, but what truth seeks to hide in your mirrorshadow? In the stillness of an evening whispered to sleep, Luna found herself alone in a room that had seen too many secrets unfold.
Outside, the garden's wildness tugged at the edges of her reality—vines creeping between window panes, blades of grass sneaking smiles into the cracked walls. With each heartbeat, each silent breath, a story unfurled like ribbons of fog.
The clock's tick was a gentle reminder, a metronome to the dance of her thoughts. Time unraveled in the soft cocoon of pauses, breaths extricated between the moments where heartbeats forgot to march. There, she discovered the threads of her youth woven into the fabric of shadow.
"Your shadow is but a friend to your reflection," whispered an echo that might have belonged to another time, another Luna. "Do not fear what it hides, for it simply mirrors your essence."
In the cracks of light spilled from the ethereal moon, she saw silhouettes—dancing, laughing, crying. Each a fragment of her soul, illustrious in the mirrorshadow's embrace.
The Secrets of the Garden