Mirror

I pull the small bottle of lotion out of the bag, its weight light in my hand, yet somehow it feels heavy with possibilities. Turning it over, I look to Nana for help identifying it, unsure of what new power I’ve just uncovered. She peers at the bottle, her eyes twinkling with recognition.

“Oh yes,” she says with a smile. “That looks like masking lotion. If you rub some onto your face, it will allow you to change your appearance and voice to anyone you desire. The effects last for an hour.”

My eyes widen. The idea of being able to shift into anyone is exhilarating—and a little terrifying. “So, I could look and sound like someone else?” I ask, marveling at the bottle.

“Yes, dear,” Nana replies, “but changing your appearance is only half of it. This won’t change your scent or energy. You might be able to fool someone visually, but those attuned to the magical or supernatural will still sense you beneath the mask.”

I nod thoughtfully. It’s an incredible tool, but I’m not quite ready to use it just yet. “Would I be able to pull out something specific from the bag if I needed it?” I ask, curious about the limits of this bottomless pouch.

Nana nods, her expression turning serious again. “Yes, of course. If you think of what you need while reaching in, you’ll be able to retrieve that item. However,” she adds with a sly smile, “items you are unaware of—those will only appear when the bag decides you require them.”

I take a deep breath, trying to fully grasp the mystery of the bag. It’s like having a lucky dip at my disposal—a source of endless surprises, but also a tool that requires trust. I glance at Nana, who watches me patiently, and then I reach in one more time, letting my fingers roam the void within the pouch. My hand closes around something small and soft, like a tiny pouch. I pull it out and hold it up, puzzled.

Nana’s eyes light up as she sees what I’ve found. “There we have it, dear. That looks like your mother’s unlimited supply of wealth. That little purse will adjust its contents to the currency of whatever dimension you are in, and it will never run out.”

I blink, stunned. “Wait… are you saying this is a never-ending source of money?”

Her smile widens. “Exactly. That purse will always provide what you need.”

A grin spreads across my face, excitement bubbling up inside me. I open the purse and pull out a neat bundle of crisp $100 bills. The texture of the notes feels real, solid. This… this is going to be very handy.

Nana chuckles at my reaction. “Yes, it’s certainly a useful little thing. But remember, dear, the bag contains more than just practical items. There’s no way to be sure exactly what else is in there, but I promise you, it will come through for you when the time is right.”

She’s right. This bag feels like more than just a collection of trinkets. It’s a lifeline, one that connects me to my mother and the world I’m about to face. As if sensing the gravity of the moment, Nana reaches into her own pocket and pulls out something small and silver, handing it to me gently.

It’s a compact, circular, and polished to a shine. I open it, expecting to see something magical, but it’s just a mirror—my own reflection staring back at me. I frown slightly, puzzled by its simplicity. “It’s a mirror?” I ask, looking at Nana.

She smiles softly, her voice tender as she explains. “Yes, dear, but it’s more than that. This is a special communication device. From now on, when you meet someone, you will be able to speak with them through the mirror. If you think of who you want to communicate with before opening it, their reflection will appear.”

My heart skips a beat, the weight of the mirror suddenly feeling much more significant. “So I can talk to anyone? Just by thinking of them?”

Nana nods. “Yes. They won’t be able to see you, but they will hear you in their mind, and you will hear them in yours. It’s a way we can keep in touch, no matter where you are.”

I stare down at the mirror, the idea of such instant, magical communication both comforting and overwhelming. “Thank you, Nana,” I whisper, feeling a surge of gratitude. “This means so much.”

“You are very welcome, dear,” she says softly, reaching over to give my hand a gentle squeeze. “There is one last gift I want to give you before we part.”

Before I can ask what she means, she grabs my arm, her eyes suddenly glowing with a bright, ethereal light. A soft gasp escapes my lips as a warm, radiant aura begins to envelop us both. The glow intensifies, wrapping around me like a cocoon, pulsing with ancient magic. I feel the power, the weight of it pressing into my skin, sinking deep into my bones.

I don’t move. I can’t. My entire body hums with the energy pouring from Nana’s hand. It’s not painful, but it’s overwhelming—like being filled to the brim with something vast and untamed.