House of Horrors[SE]

The speed at which Magi entered the mirror house caused a brief vacuum in the air, enough that the inward pressure to fill the vacuum caused the doors behind her to close. It wasn't a loud shut since the quick rush of wind also cushioned the closing, but it was a noticeable sound. More noticeable was the darkness that followed. The only light sources available were the dimmed, barely functional red lighting fixtures emitting just enough make the path through the mirrors clear and the reflections within them, but not much beyond. The exit signs were still working with a neon green spelling out each letter: one behind her, by the doors she just came through, and one all the way at the other side of the room.

The whole setting was a bit eerie if you were attentive to that sort of atmosphere, but a trained shinigami must surely understand these effects to be the speeding hollow that just ran through. Actually, there was one more thing. If Magi walked up to them she'd notice the mirrors were a bit distorted, each different from the other. People familiar with mirror houses might expect this at an amusement park, but the differences were usually comically drastic. These mirrors were closer to an uncanny valley sort of feeling, each invoking different sorts of feelings or emanating different kinds of personas. One mirror made Magi look a bit taller, a sort of prideful posture to it. Another felt a bit hunched and disgruntled, her hair a bit frazzled. One even looked a bit like her shikai, indistinct and subtle at a closer look but a peripheral view made it seem clearly like her shikai form.

The only other thing to colour the room besides the red and faint green lights and the darkness consuming the whole area was the speakers playing a background music. Each step through the mirror maze made the music feel louder and louder. The percussion rang in the ears and each strum of the bass pulsed a vibration felt in a person's abdomen and back. When you paid attention to the song, the volume seemed to return to normal. Whatever you didn't focus on felt all-encompassing and consuming, like it drowned you in a disorienting pressure, but as soon as you paid it mind you'd realise how distant all these things really were. The further you took steps into the mirror path, the more the mirrors felt like they were reflecting the soul.

Everyone always reacted differently to this. Most would be pushed away by all this. Everything felt all too tangible after all, and it surely was a terrible experience. But some felt a sort of a calling to it. Some, with unbridled ambition had something to prove to others, and going through these mirrors was proving something to yourself. Some might be pushed to go through it as a necessity. For one reason or another, turning back just wasn't an option. Some found this to be a learning experience, and walking to the end surely wouldn't yield you empty-handed. Of course for Magi there were all sorts of reasons to push on forwards, first and foremost being a shadow dancing through the mirrors--the hollow she chased in, surely.

Eventually it almost felt like the reflections in the mirror were whispering towards her, but once again any time you properly focused the whispers would vanish into nothing. The voices were scattered but they all sounded familiar. Sometimes, kind of like Magi's own voice. Pretty often it felt like the voice of her zanpakuto whispering to her, and curiously enough if Magi ever sought a response from her zanpakuto none would be given. As if there were something in the way, a wall, blocking their communion. But by now, perhaps that was natural and for the better. This way, Akuhebi couldn't burden her with unnecessary insults and ridicule.

Other times the whispers were entirely unknown, but soft and empowering, like an angel speaking God's message. If Magi kept walking onwards chasing after the hollow, by the time she hit the centre of the room she'd clearly see one of her reflections act differently, no longer mirroring her own actions. It was entirely unnatural, but perhaps by the point she reached this area, all the disorienting factors tugging at her senses might change the way she thought of natural--just enough to not be surprised by a reflection acting different. The reflection, a bit of a taller, more mature looking version of herself, spoke with a womanly voice.

"I am--we are--the savior."