Reflections in Fog

The sirens were distant, muffled by the fog.

Mei sat on the stone steps of the temple, wrapped in a paramedic’s blanket. The fire department had put out the blaze quickly. The damage was minor—mostly smoke.

She looked around frantically. "Wei?"

There was no answer.

The paramedics checked her vitals. "You're lucky, miss. Just some smoke inhalation."

Mei pushed them away. She stood up, stumbling toward the alleyway behind the temple.

"Wei!" she screamed.

A figure stepped out of the shadows. He was deep in the gloom, his hoodie pulled low. He was holding his arm; his sleeve was charred.

"I'm here," he said. His voice was rougher than before.

Mei ran to him. She stopped a few feet away.

"You're hurt," she said, reaching out.

Wei stepped back. "I'm fine."

"Come with me," Mei pleaded. "The ambulance is there. We can go to the hospital. We can... we can go home."

Wei shook his head. He looked down at his hands. The gloves were burned away. His palms were raw, glowing with a faint, unnatural heat.

The entity was gone, but the mark remained. He had touched the void.

"I can't, Mei."

"Why not? We beat it. It's over."

"It's never over," Wei said. "There are other mirrors. Other skins. And now... now I smell like smoke to them. If I stay with you, I put you in danger."

"I don't care," Mei cried. "I don't want to be safe. I want you."

"You have your second chance, Mei," Wei said softly. "You have your life back. Your beauty."

"I don't want the beauty!"

"You need it," Wei said. "It's who you are. And this..." He gestured to his shadowed face. "This is who I am. I fix the broken things. But I stay in the dark to do it."

He backed deeper into the alley. The fog swirled around him, swallowing his form.

"Wei, please!"

"Don't look in the mirror for a while, Mei," he called back. "And if you do... make sure the smile reaches your eyes."

He turned and walked away.

Mei stood alone in the alley. She reached into her pocket. Her fingers closed around a tangled knot of red thread she had found on the temple floor.

She walked past a shop window. She stopped. She looked at her reflection.

Her face was smudged with soot. Her hair was a mess. She looked exhausted, traumatized, and imperfect.

She smiled. A small, sad, real smile.

In the window, her reflection smiled back instantly.

But as she turned to leave, she thought she saw movement in the deep shadows of the glass—a tall, hooded figure walking beside her reflection, keeping pace, watching the darkness so she wouldn't have to.

Mei clutched the red thread tight and walked out into the city lights, alone, but not unprotected.