Mirrorgate Wraith

Field account

The gate stood in an open cornfield, a rectangle of reflection with no wall attached. Our images waited inside it, half a breath slower than we were. The Wraith emerged only when Mara stepped through. Tall, unfinished, and silver at every edge, it held no weapon. It raised her reflected arm instead. The blow she had imagined delivering struck her from the opposite side. When I tried to pull her back, the gate produced another me already braced against rescue. We escaped by approaching without agreement. One of us walked backward, one sang, one carried the lantern but refused to look ahead. The mirror could return each intention, but it could not make our contradictions share a doorway. The Wraith split along its perfect center, and we passed through the crack between answers.

Observed behavior

The Wraith waits inside its surface and answers intent rather than motion. A violent approach returns violence; concealment produces a hidden double; rescue summons resistance shaped like the rescuer. It prefers organized groups because shared purpose creates a clean reflection. Contradictory sincere intentions blur the response, but false randomness remains legible as strategy. The sentinel never pursues beyond sight of its gate. Covering the mirror helps only if no reflective fragment remains exposed. Crossing without imagining what happens after passage is difficult, yet often safer than confidence.