He had to find the mirror's twin. The old man shuffled through the dusty bookstore, his eyes scanning the shelves with a desperation that belied his calm demeanor. His gnarled hands trembled slightly as they traced the spines of ancient tomes. The scent of aged paper and forgotten wisdom filled the air, a silent witness to countless tales that had yet to unfold. In the corner, a peculiar book caught his eye. Its leather binding was worn and its title barely legible, but the emblem of two mirrors, each reflecting the other, was unmistakable. He pulled it down with trembling fingers, feeling the weight of its secrets. He thumbed through the pages, his eyes widening with every turn. It spoke of an artifact, a mirror rumored to possess the power to peer into the very fabric of reality. He had heard whispers of this mirror before, but never thought he would find concrete evidence of its existence. His heart raced as he read on. The text spoke of a twin to this mystical artifact, hidden deep within the labyrinthine catacombs beneath the city. It was said that only one who sought true understanding could find it, and that together, the mirrors could reveal truths long concealed. The old man knew he had to find the twin. He had devoted his life to the pursuit of knowledge, and this was the culmination of his quest. With a deep breath, he tucked the book under his arm and approached the counter. The shopkeeper looked up, his curiosity piqued by the customer's excitement. "I'll take this," the old man said, placing the book on the counter. The shopkeeper's gaze sharpened as he took it in his hands. "That's a rare find, indeed," he said, a hint of suspicion in his voice. "Do you know what you're looking for?" The old man met his gaze, his eyes burning with a determination that had been kindling for decades. "The mirror's twin," he replied, his voice firm. The shopkeeper's eyes narrowed, and he leaned in closer. "You're not the first to seek it," he murmured, "but none have returned with it. The catacombs are treacherous, and the mirror is guarded by... let's just say, those who wish to keep it hidden." The old man nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of his quest. He had prepared for this moment, studying ancient languages and honing his skills in the arcane arts. He had lived a life of solitude, driven by the thirst for knowledge that had consumed his ancestors before him. "I am aware of the risks," he assured the shopkeeper. "But the pursuit of truth is a burden that I must bear." The shopkeeper nodded, his suspicion giving way to respect. He wrapped the book in a dusty cloth and handed it back to the old man. "You'll need more than just a map to navigate the catacombs," he warned. "They're a labyrinth that has claimed many lives. But if you truly seek the mirror's twin, I can provide you with an artifact that may aid your journey." From beneath the counter, he produced a tarnished metal compass, its needle spinning erratically. "This compass was crafted by the same hand that forged the mirrors. It won't show you the way as you expect, but it will guide you when you are lost in the tunnels." The old man took it, feeling the warmth of its ancient power seep into his palm. "Thank you," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "I'll pay whatever you ask." The shopkeeper waved away his offer. "Consider it a gift," he said, his eyes shrewd. "But remember, knowledge comes with a price. Use it wisely." The old man nodded, tucking the compass into his pocket alongside the book. As he left the shop, the cool evening air outside seemed to whisper the secrets of the city's shadowy past. His heart pounded in his chest as he descended the cobblestone streets toward the hidden entrance to the catacombs. The city bustled around him, but he walked as if in a trance, his mind racing with the possibilities of what he might find.

By Carlos del Puente